Waiting for You

by Megan Derr

  A NineStar Press Publication

  www.ninestarpress.com

  Waiting for You

  Copyright © 2017 Megan Derr

  Cover Art by Natasha Snow ©Copyright 2017

  Edited by: Amanda Jean

  Published in 2017 by NineStar Press, New Mexico, USA.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, NineStar Press, LLC.

  Warning

  This book contains sexually explicit content, which is only suitable for mature readers, and depictions of emotional abuse.

  Waiting for You

  Lifesworn

  Megan Derr

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  For Isabella

  Prologue

  Shanna sighed in the gloom of the stables, enjoying the dark and quiet, even the smell of horse, dragon, and manure.

  Gingerly touching her sore cheek, the result of a stepfather who’d succumbed to a rare fit of temper and struck her, she went to get some treats for the animals.

  After she’d given apples to the horses and hazelnuts to the dragons, she pulled out the small flask of wine she’d brought with her, upended a bucket to make a seat, and settled in front of her favorite dragon’s stall for a night of drinking.

  She’d prefer to be making merry, a proper ceremony honoring her mother, two years dead now, but of course her worthless stepfather, Mercen, preferred a much smaller, quieter, and more somber affair. Just one more occasion for him to do what he needed to further his own goals while paying token respect to the woman who’d made him consort.

  At least it was late enough she’d be left alone out here. Everyone else was asleep or on duty. The only person who’d be in the stable at that hour was Tikki, the stable boy, and even if he woke and realized she was there, he’d leave her alone.

  All the problems of the day—week, month, past two years—tried to rise up, but Shanna had endured more than her fill of them for the present. They’d have to wait until tomorrow. Instead, she drank wine and tried to focus only on happy memories of her mother, the sorts of things her mother would tell her to think about.

  She’d almost managed to achieve a good mood, or something close enough, when she heard voices outside. Voices that were not speaking Remnien. If she wasn’t mistaken, they were speaking Morentian, which was bizarre. Morentians didn’t travel this far north very often, and certainly not in the dead of a winter night.

  Pushing to her feet, Shanna headed for the stable doors—and barely jumped back in time to avoid being whacked in the head by one.

  Two figures, accompanied by horses, hurried into the stables and closed the doors behind them. The shorter of the two said something, and Shanna caught snatches of “finally” and “snow” and something she didn’t understand but suspected was a curse. Her mother had never taught her those words, though Shanna had tried to learn them.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  They spun toward her, going still a moment before removing the snow-crusted wrappings from their faces—which revealed extremely handsome men, tired and travel-worn though they were. Shanna swallowed, painfully aware suddenly of her own unkempt state: the old, ragged dress she’d thrown on, her hair only loosely knotted back, the bruise slowly forming on her cheek.

  Oh, what did it matter? She was a princess—a queen in waiting—what did it matter if she looked good to a couple of travelers she’d never see again?

  “I am sorry to disturb,” the shorter man said, mouth curving in a smile that reminded Shanna of the kitchen boy, Benni, who caused no end of trouble but always charmed his way out of it with smiles like that. “We are humble peddlers from Morentia and not accustomed to your wretched snow. We were hoping to reach the royal castle tonight, but I honestly have no idea where we are right now.”

  Shanna laughed. “You’ll be relieved to know you’ve reached your destination, though you’ll have to wait until morning to peddle your wares. But come, there are places aplenty for you to stay the night, and the kitchens can give you a meal.”

  “We’d be most grateful, Lady…”

  “Shanna.”

  Both men stilled again briefly before venturing farther into the stable, closer to Shanna. She moved backward a few paces and nearly collided with one of the two lanterns that lent the stables light.

  The shorter man said something in Morentian she didn’t understand, the words spoken too low and fast to catch. “You are no lady, but the fine princess herself,” the man said, his wickedly charming smile returning. “We are most honored to make your acquaintance, my princess.”

  Shanna shivered. My princess. She liked the way he said that.

  “Shall we tend the horses before you attempt to flirt with someone too good for you, Kallaar?” the second man asked gruffly.

  “Yes, Ahmla.” Kallaar glanced back at Shanna. “Where should we put our horses, Your Highness?”

  “This way.”

  Once the horses were tended, Kallaar returned to her side immediately, almost but not quite standing improperly close. “Now then, what brings a lovely princess to the stables so late at night? And all alone. Surely there are better places to be in this terrible weather? I should think anywhere else at all would be better.”

  “It’s not that cold.”

  Kallaar looked at her like she had lost her mind. “There is snow.”

  Shanna laughed at his affronted tone. “Yes, but it’s early winter yet. Soon it will be so cold every breath feels like knives in your lungs, too cold even for snow, and everything that ventures outside unprotected freezes immediately.”

  “How can it be too cold for snow?” Kallaar sounded affronted. “That sounds like a nightmare come to life.”

  Ahmla made a noise that sounded like agreement.

  “I’m certain many people say the same about the heat of Morentia. What brings you so far afield this time of year? Surely your wares could wait to be traded in weather you find more pleasing?”

  “I come from a very bossy family, and there are things that must be done, and I am the one to do them,” Kallaar said, looking oddly intent for a man who probably traded in bobbles and knickknacks. “Not that I mind, of course. I am just as bossy and demanding as the rest of them—” He gave a snickering Ahmla a look. “Anyway, despite our grousing, we are happy to be here, my princess. Now, I do not suppose there is anywhere in this place where a couple of frozen strangers might thaw?”

  “I think I can help with that,” Shanna said, smiling in a way she hadn’t since her mother had died two years ago. Hard to find anything to smile about when she was a prisoner in her own castle, constantly afraid she would join her mother in the afterlife while Mercen stole their kingdom.

  “Splendid!” Once they were outside, Kallaar offered his arm.

  Amused and charmed despite herself, Shanna made to accept—and slipped on a patch of ice, but even as she drew breath to scream, she was scooped up before she hit the cold, hard ground.

  Shanna blinked at Ahmla, who held her like she weighed nothing, and was shockingly warm for a man who had seemed cold and miserable. “Are you all right?” he asked.

&nbs
p; “Um. Yes. Thank you, Master Ahmla. That would have been a nasty fall.”

  “My honor to serve, princess.” Instead of setting her down, though, Ahmla carried her all the way to the castle and only put her on her feet once they reached the stones of the kitchen yard, which were kept clean by the staff so they could work safely.

  “Thank you again,” Shanna said and hastened inside to hide her flushed face.

  In the kitchen, she found the late-night cook in the pantry and requested she see about food and beds.

  Returning to Kallaar and Ahmla, she said, “You’ll be taken care of quite well from here by the staff.”

  “It’s most appreciated, my princess. You are even kinder and more gracious than rumors say.”

  Shanna highly doubted any such rumors existed, but she smiled all the same. “It’s sweet of you to say so.”

  “No, it’s not. Don’t encourage him,” Ahmla said. “He’s enough of a brat.”

  “You wound me,” Kallaar said with a pout.

  Shanna laughed. “I will leave you to charm sweets from the cook, for I must to bed. It was a pleasure to meet you both. Perhaps I’ll see you again before you continue your travels.”

  “Count on it, my princess. I could never leave here without seeing your lovely face at least once more.”

  Ahmla lifted his eyes to the ceiling, and even the cook snorted as she brought them bowls of the soup kept on the fire for staff and soldiers working through the night.

  Smiling again, Shanna bowed her head as they bowed. “Goodnight, dear sirs. Sleep well.”

  “And you, my princess,” Kallaar said. “Sweet dreams.”

  As she headed off to her room, still smiling at Kallaar’s antics and how nice it had felt to be held so easily by Ahmla, Shanna thought maybe for the first time in a long time, her dreams just might be sweet.

  Chapter One

  Shanna stormed into her room and slammed the door behind her and leaned against it and pressed her palms to her temples until her trembling finally eased. Nothing to brighten the day like getting into an argument with her stepfather—and right on the cusp of her consort selection.

  “Are you all right, Your Highness?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Shanna finally pushed away from the door. She mustered a smile for the three women anxiously watching her, maids who had served her faithfully for years even though being too close to her was never a good thing. Shanna should have ladies-in-waiting, but the more friends she had, the more weaknesses there were for her stepfather to exploit. She’d learned that lesson after he’d essentially banished Astira, her childhood friend, the girl who’d grown up alongside Shanna, learned beside her, played with her…and been far too loudly opinionated and defiant. Mercen had wasted no time in getting her out of sight and mind the very moment he was able. Shanna still received letters from Astira every month or so, but they would not likely see each other again until Shanna was securely on the throne—assuming she ever got that far.

  Her stepfather had let her live this long only because her death would be too suspicious to overlook. But letting her live didn’t equate to letting her become queen. He’d schemed and plotted far too hard for that.

  “Could you bring my work clothes to me? I’ve had enough of court today, and I wanted to see the new green dragon for myself.”

  “Of course, Highness.” The head maid, Lia, sent one of the others off while she went to pour Shanna a glass of wine from the carafe on the sidebar.

  She offered it, and Shanna took several sips. “Thank you.”

  Together with the remaining maid, Kari, Lia got Shanna out of her elaborate, cumbersome court clothes, laid them aside, and dressed her in much simpler breeches, shirt, and tunic when Gwyn brought them.

  After tugging on her boots and binding her hair in a quick braid that she pinned up, Shanna thanked them and headed off out of the castle to the enormous stables in the southeast yard. There was nothing quite like an afternoon of cleaning out the dragon stables to burn off anxiety and worry.

  First, however, she checked on the new green dragon. She was a beauty, long and lean, meant for speed. She’d been bought to replace another courier dragon recently lost to illness—and better still, this one was young enough for breeding. The dragon rumbled inquisitively and flicked out its long, split tongue to taste her, black eyes shimmering. Without another rumble of approval, the dragon settled down and promptly started scratching and burring for attention that Shanna was happy to give.

  Eventually, she had to leave the sweet little thing to get to work. Normally there were hands aplenty to keep the stables running smoothly, but with the consort selection beginning that night, the castle was overrun with far more guests than usual. Even with extra help hired, there was too much work and not enough hands.

  So Shanna pulled a kerchief from her pocket to wrap around her head, grabbed a shovel, and started cleaning out stalls.

  Unfortunately, it did not burn away the long evening looming before her: a hateful stepfather and piles upon piles of suitors from which she must pick a consort she didn’t want. Well, no, that wasn’t true. She wanted a consort, someone she could love and trust and rely on the way her mother had always relied on her father. But a consort was also one more thing her stepfather could use against her. If he had his way, her consort would be somebody to benefit him and help control her. So right now, no, she didn’t want a consort. But the law was the law, so old and entrenched even Mercen couldn’t abolish it, and that meant that at some point in the next two weeks Shanna would have to pick a consort from all the suitors arriving to vie for the honor. Twenty-one men and women had accepted invitations, from all over the world—including those kingdoms her mother would have never invited, but her stepfather most certainly had for his own ends.

  Her only hope was to outsmart him and force, through her own choice, someone who hopefully would be able to help her stand against Mercen. More than likely, whoever it was would simply be neutral, useless to them both, leaving them exactly where they had been for the last six years: neither able to get rid of the other, quietly moving pieces, always waiting for an opening to strike.

  This was not how her life was meant to have gone, but she’d thought the same thing years ago when fourteen and in love for the first time, and the love of her life had died of illness only months later. She’d thought it again when her mother had fallen ill and never recovered. She and life were clearly never going to agree on how things were meant to be.

  “Excuse me, girl.”

  Shanna finished with the latest shovel of shit she’d just scooped and turned around, staring at the handsome, imperious man standing several paces away, arms folded across his chest. Prince Bryant, if she wasn't mistaken. A young woman stood beside him, exhausted and sweaty, clutching the reins of a dragon that looked to be in even worse shape. “Yes?”

  The man’s brows rose in disapproval of her casual reply. “Take this dragon, please, and you may want to remember to mind your manners better when before your superiors.”

  Laughing, Shanna replied, “By your definitions of superiors, who in the world is more superior in this castle than its future queen?”

  “What?” The man looked her up and down. “Enough of your foolishness.”

  “Tikki!” she called.

  The stable boy came bustling out of the back, still holding the tack he’d been cleaning. “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “Take Prince Bryant’s dragon and get it cleaned and fed—but first show his dragon handler where she can refresh herself and get food.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Tikki motioned for the girl and dragon to follow him.

  Shanna smiled bitingly at Bryant. “Good day to you, Highness.” She moved on to the next stall and started shoveling, leaving Bryant sputtering until he finally fled.

  And so it went the whole rest of the afternoon, suitors and other guests trickling in as the hours passed, from the imperious and tiresome Prince Gorna from Ashta—who’d taken her fo
r a servant happy to double as a prostitute—all the way down to Princess Nina—who’d taken her for a servant, and therefore invisible.

  So far, she was none too pleased with most of her options, to judge by the way they thought servants were to be treated. A few had been polite, though, even cordial, so she had some options, even if they were lackluster.

  Tikki brought her a cup of cool water, and Shanna thanked him, smiling warmly. “How is your mother?”

  “Starting to walk again, thank the Goddess. If she’d been stuck abed much longer, we’d have killed her or she’d have killed us.” He grinned.

  Shanna laughed. “I remember being that pleasant to deal with myself when I broke my ankle as a young girl.”

  Most would argue she was a young girl still, and she might agree, because twenty-three left a lot of life and learning to do. But with her mother dead from suspicious circumstances, a stepfather determined to put himself on the throne and forever keep her off it, a court and council who refused to see her as a woman grown, and still two years from being old enough to claim her throne, Shanna didn’t feel young.

  She felt alone, tired, and afraid. Her mother had been dead six years now, but Shanna missed her more than ever. The way they always had breakfast together, and shared a drink while talking about their days before bed as often as they were able. The way her mother had always taught her, brought her to meetings and along on trips out of the castle, seeing Shanna got as much instruction as possible, never letting anyone doubt for a moment that someday Shanna would be a good queen. They’d been mother and daughter, and friends, and queen and heir.

  Since her death, Shanna mostly felt like a mouse cornered by a cat. Her only allies were her maids, her friend Penli…and they weren’t allies exactly, but the two men from the kingdom of Morentia who passed through frequently on their travels were friends of a sort. Gods knew she could stand Kallaar’s strange talent for always knowing how to cheer her up.