by Lili Zander
My own magic feels tainted, a lingering effect of what happened in the study. The weight of the curse seems stronger than ever. Is the effect temporary, or has the balance of magic been shifted permanently?
I don’t know.
How are we connected to this? We’ve been chosen as Aria’s mates, but of the five of us, only I have magic. What did Maija Essen see in the future that caused her to manipulate the warps and wefts of fate? What role do we serve?
Everywhere I turn, there are more questions than answers.
It’s late at night, but sleep eludes me. I glance at my phone. It’s one in the morning, and the castle is quiet. I could wake one of the others, but I don’t want to.
What I want to do is forget everything. Forget the weight of the burden I carry as the second-most powerful mage in the world, strong enough to stop everyone but Zyrian. Powerful enough, except when it matters.
A sliver of moonlight shines through my window and illuminates the ring on the table next to my bed. I’d found it last night in the underground chamber. I’d planned on asking Aria if it was the same ring that Maija Essen gave her in her dreams, but I’d forgotten.
Which is strange in itself. It’s not like me to forget something so important.
I pick up the thick golden signet ring and examine the crest. The design is simple. A sword is etched in the center, its hilt carved with a mark that I’ve seen a thousand times. A mark I bear on my right wrist.
The mating mark. A five-pointed star, with a circle running through all five points. Why is it here?
Yet more questions.
With a sigh, I slip the heavy gold band on the ring finger of my right hand. There’s a bar in Cologne near the cathedral that’s open later than strictly permitted by the authorities. Zeus knows I need a drink.
Three hours later, I’m well and truly drunk. There’s a small part of me—a sensible inner voice—that tells me this is impossible. Dragons are not affected by alcohol the same way Norms are, and I shouldn’t be feeling this unsteady, this woozy.
It’s the ring. It’s dampening your magic.
I ignore that voice. So what? I’m allowed to cut loose one night. While there is a blood spell to temporarily remove anxiety and clear the mind, another mage needs to cast it on me, and there’s no dragon I trust enough with what torments me. Beer seems a reasonable substitute.
The barmaid comes by with a tray of Kölsch and sets a glass on my table. “Make that two,” I tell her, looking around the bar. Everyone’s having a good time. All around me, I see people laughing with their friends.
Norms really do live in a blissfully ignorant bubble.
She gives me a saucy grin. “Someone’s having a bad night,” she coos. “Want me to make it better?”
Not even a little. “I’m spoken for.”
“Are you?” She arches her eyebrow, her meaning clear. Why am I in a bar at four in the morning, instead of being in bed with my mate?
Not a thought I want to dwell on.
I don’t reply, and she gets the message. She lifts her shoulders in a shrug and heads to the next table, where two men are giving her admiring looks. One of them says something that makes her laugh as she sets glasses of beer down on their table.
I’m restless again. I drain my two glasses of beer and get to my feet. The room spins around me, and I grab onto the table for support. I tuck a fifty-euro note under the glass closest to me and stagger out. Perhaps some fresh air will do me good.
It’s dark. Quiet. The deepest part of the night has not yet given way to dawn. The sun won’t rise for another two hours. The streetlights provide some faint illumination, but I don’t need it to find my way. Dragons can see perfectly well in the dark.
I make my way to the river, crossing the Rhine on the Hohenzollernbrücke. I’m almost off the bridge when three men appear in front of me. “Gimme your money,” the man in the middle growls. In his hand, he’s holding a knife, the blade six inches long. Painful, but nothing that should cause too much damage. Not to a dragon.
I’m in no mood for a fight. I’m hanging to my temper by a thread, and if it snaps, these men are not going to like the results. “Go away, buddy,” I reply.
“Go away, buddy,” he repeats with a snicker. “That’s an effective threat, isn’t it, mates?”
Some people really do have a death wish. I take a deep breath and let my eyes slit yellow. But it fights me. My magic is sluggish and slow, as thick as a swamp. Even the shift, which is so basic that every dragon can do it from birth, feels like it takes more energy than it ever has.
“Like I said,” I repeat. “Go away, buddy.”
They’ve seen the dragon’s eyes. If they’re magical, they will know what they’re looking at. If they’re Norm, the sight should fill their hearts with fear.
Except that’s not what happens. “Do it,” one of the men shouts, his voice desperate and ragged. “Do it now.”
The man in the middle throws the knife at me. I reach for it, but I’m too slow. Too late. The blade slices into my side, and I fall to my knees as my body is engulfed in agony.
I can’t shift. The knife resists my attempt to tug it free. I can’t access my magic—I grope for it, but it dances away from me, slipping out of my reach. How much beer did I drink, and why is it affecting me this badly?
Cold darkness is everywhere, seeping into my mind and my body, and there’s nothing I can do to counter it.
Use the ring’s magic.
I make one desperate attempt to yank power from the gold band around my finger. There’s a faint whisper there, just enough for me to cast one final, frantic spell to slow the blood seeping from my body.
I have to find the others. Because the longer the knife is inside me, the more harm it causes. And soon, it’ll be too late to do anything about it.
78
Aria
Jetlag is bullshit. Once again, I wake up late. By the time I shower and get dressed, it’s one-forty-five in the afternoon.
Frau Ziegler must think I’m the laziest person in the world. Way to make a good impression, Aria.
I talked to Silas yesterday, and even though I’ve only been in Germany for a couple of days, it was still great to hear from him. “I’m not racking up long distance charges, am I?” I’d asked the dragons at dinner.
They’d burst into laughter. “I own your cell phone provider,” Bastian had admitted. “River Comm has been part of Jaeger Holdings for the last five years. Make all the calls you want, mausezähnchen.”
One of these days, I’m going to get used to how rich they are. I keep telling myself that. So far, it isn’t working. Still, it’s nice to be able to pick up the phone and call people without worrying about outrageous cell phone bills.
I do some math in my head. It’s almost nine in the morning in New York. Bea should be awake. Grinning in pleasure at the idea of talking to my best friend, I dial her number. It rings, and rings, and rings some more. Finally, she picks up.
“The world had better be on fire,” my best friend grumbles into the phone.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
“Why do you hate me?” she whines. “I thought you loved me.”
“Oh stop it, you know I do.”
“Then why in the name of all that is holy are you calling me at… Holy crap it’s eight forty-five!”
I hold the phone away from my ear as her screech of horror fills the room, and I snicker at her reaction. “Yes. I called my best friend thinking she would be on the train heading to work. I figured it would be the perfect time to call so that I didn’t risk interrupting any sexy fun times with Jesse...”
“Good call,” Bea deadpans. “Son of a crack nut, I’m going to be so late. Again.”
“Again?”
Bea laughs and my heart twinges at the sound. It’s only less than three days since the dragons whisked me away to Germany, but it feels like it’s been forever. A wave of homesickness washes over me. I miss Bea and Silas. I miss New York. As much a
s I love hanging out with my dragons, I also miss home.
“Let’s just say that I’ve had my muffin buttered, jellied, frosted, glazed, and sugar-coated within an inch of its life,” she replies. “Things like work schedules and sleep are just not priorities when the greatness that is Jesse’s man-meat is on the menu.”
“Oh my God, Bea…” I laugh. “I’ve missed your sass.”
“Miss your face too, girly. So, how’s everything in Dragonland?”
Let’s see. A powerful dragon mage who died five hundred years ago visited me our first night here. I found out I’m half-Bloodstone. I’m sucking balls at doing magic. I keep getting lost in this massive castle. About the only lessons that are going well are my fighting classes, thanks to Silas and his love of swords.
Instead of any of the many things that are on my mind, I simply say, “It’s great.”
If Bea hears the conflict in my voice, she doesn’t comment, for which I’m eternally grateful.
“How’s New York?” I ask her.
Bea snorts. “Colder than a witch’s titty in a brass bra. Oh man, that reminds me. You should have seen the look on Brooke’s face when she realized you weren’t coming in for your shift at Trendz yesterday.”
I cringe. Fuckity fuckity fuck. I completely forgot about Trendz. Being here with my dragons is a lot like living in a bubble. The real world feels very far away. “Shit,” I groan. “I totally meant to call her. I can’t believe I forgot.”
Bea laughs. “Oh honey, it was epic. It made it worth putting up with shitty customers all day.”
“I should probably apologize…” I trail off. I really don’t want to talk to my bitchy manager. Although, to be fair, this one’s totally on me.
“I’m fairly sure you don’t have a job to come back to at this point,” Bea replies. “So unless you’re super keen on getting your ass handed to you, I’d continue radio silence. Besides, it would be my pleasure to break the news to Brooke. Lord knows I’ll need another pick me up. It’s going to be bedlam today. Some idiot in the head office decided it would be a good idea to have a rack sale. Half the store is marked forty percent off. Kill me now.”
She sighs wearily. I know how much she hates her job. I need to figure out how to set up that scholarship for her beauty school. Not sometime soon, but right away. The future isn’t a guarantee, and I want to make sure that Bea is taken care of, in case… Just in case.
“Well, I would hate to deny you such joy. By all means, pass my sincere regrets to Brooke.” I almost say it with a straight face, but I can’t do it. The two of us burst into fits of giggles.
“No worries, sweet cheeks,” she says when she’s stopped laughing. “I’ll take care of the she-bitch for you. I’ll consider it an early birthday present.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.”
“Duh,” she says. “Ugh, sorry to cut this short, chickadee, but if I don’t get my ass in gear, I’ll be sleeping under the bridge with the trolls after I get fired, and we both know that won’t end well for those poor trolls.”
Ah, Bea. “Man, I miss you,” I say again.
“Of course you do,” she replies cheerfully. “I’m the best. Text ya later. Bye!”
The line goes dead, and I feel wistful. Life used to be so simple.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, I tell myself firmly. Time to track down Casius and see about setting up that scholarship for my best friend. Of all the dragons, he’s the one most likely to know how to do what I need done.
I find Casius in the library, his hair disheveled like he’s been running his fingers through it. He’s pouring over a manuscript, his laptop next to him.
I knock on the door frame to get his attention, and he looks up at me from over his reading glasses. A smile curves his lips when he sees me. “Is it time for your magic lesson already?”
“No,” I reply, flushing when I remember yesterday’s extremely pleasurable training session. “Could you help me with something?”
“Anything you need,” he replies easily.
“My friend Bea is a whiz at hair and make-up,” I tell him, pulling up a chair next to Casius. “She’s always wanted to go to cosmetology school, but she works a minimum-wage job at the mall.”
“And you want to help her,” Casius guesses.
I nod. “I’d like to set up a scholarship for her,” I tell him. “Something that will cover tuition and living expenses.”
“That should be easy enough,” he replies.
“And I want to use the money from Raedwulf,” I clarify. “Not your money.”
“Our money is your money,” he replies immediately.
I cross my arms over my chest and give him a death glare. Instead of looking intimidated, Casius looks amused. He shakes his head and mumbles something about stubborn mates, but the playful look in his eyes takes away any heat from the comment. Pulling his laptop toward him, he starts typing. “I’m assuming you’ll want the donation to be anonymous.”
“Yeah. Bea won’t take the money if she knows it comes from me.”
“Annoying, isn’t it?” he replies blandly. “Especially when you have more than enough treasure for the rest of your life, and all you want to do is see your mate happy.”
“This is not the same situation.”
“Really? It seems pretty identical to me.” He continues typing. “Okay. First, we need to set up a foundation. Unless you’d be okay with it coming from my company? We give a reasonable amount of money every year in need-based scholarships.”
I’m about to argue when he helpfully adds, “It’ll also make it harder for Bea to trace it back to you.”
That’s true. “So I transfer money to your foundation, and then you’ll handle getting it to Bea?” I’m not exactly saying I don’t trust Casius to make sure the money comes from me… Actually, who am I kidding? That’s exactly what I’m saying. The black AMEX card in my wallet is a reminder that the dragons and I think very differently about wealth.
“Sure,” he says. “Bastian opened a bank account in your name and deposited a million dollars in it. He thought currency would be more useful than gold bars. If you’d like, I can pull the cash from there.”
I have a bank account with a million dollars. Surreal.
“Yes, please.”
In ten minutes, Casius transfers forty-thousand dollars from my account into his foundation’s and sends an email to the director of his company’s corporate citizenship arm. “I’m sending Alex Bea’s information,” he explains as he types. “He’ll handle the details this week. Okay?”
I don’t think I’ve ever spent forty thousand dollars as quickly as I just did. But Bea is family, and she totally deserves a break.
Of course, if she ever finds out that it was me, I’m in deep, deep shit. But I’m good at keeping secrets. She still doesn’t know I’m a thief.
I’m about to thank Casius when the door to the library is flung open, and Bastian strides in. “Have you seen Mateo?” he asks, his voice tense. “He’s not picking up his phone.”
“Is that unusual?”
Bastian nods. “Very. We were supposed to look at a potential investment opportunity this morning. It’s not like him to blow off meetings. Wasn’t he supposed to be giving you a magic lesson this afternoon?”
“Yes, but it is at three. There’s still time.”
“Not that much time.” Casius looks worried too. “And Mateo is usually here early.”
Before their worry can overtake my good judgment, I reach out with my senses and search out Mateo’s golden light. At first, I can’t sense him at all. He’s always been the easiest for me to find, his magic calling to me like a beacon, but when I scan for him, I sense nothing.
I push down the building panic and try again.
There. The golden threads that weave themselves around him are noticeably, frighteningly dimmer. What the hell happened to him, and where is he?
“Is he alive?” Bastian asks, his voice coated with anxiety.
I n
od. “He’s close...” Without a word I run out of the room, following the invisible connection that I know will lead me to my dragon. I burst through the front door, the other two at my heels, and gasp when I see a bloodied Mateo staggering up the drive, clutching his blood-crusted side.
“Call a healer,” Bastian shouts out to a nearby Wilhelm, his face white. “Now.”
An hour later, the healer finally judges Mateo well enough for visitors. We all file into his bedroom. “What happened?” Bastian asks as soon as he walks in.
Mateo looks sheepish. “I’m not really sure,” he confesses. “I was out drinking. I was walking back home when three guys tried to mug me.”
Erik frowns. “You couldn’t fight off three men? Were they shifters?”
Mateo shakes his head. “As far as I could tell, they were Norm. They just got the jump on me.”
“That’s impossible,” Bastian says flatly. “You should have been able to fight off three Norms with a blindfold and a hand tied behind your back.” He gives me a chagrined look. “No offense, mausezähnchen.”
I’m too concerned about Mateo to be offended. “None taken.” I perch on the edge of the bed and lace my fingers in Mateo’s. “What about your magic?”
“I couldn’t heal myself,” he replies quietly. “I tried to shift, but my dragon wouldn’t come.”
There’s a sharp inhale of shock from around the room. “Has that ever happened before?” I ask.
Mateo shakes his head. He pulls a ring from his pocket—Maija’s ring—and holds it out to Bastian. “I found this ring in the Silver Mage’s underground chamber,” he says. “Maybe I’m crazy, but I think it prevented me from reaching my magic.”
“Why would my mother want to harm you?” Bastian asks skeptically. “Are you sure it wasn’t the booze? Or something else?”
“Maija’s wards have always fought against me,” Mateo replies. “You know that.” He sighs heavily. “I don’t know for sure,” he admits. “It could have been anything. And the ring did help in the end. I tugged magic from it to cast a slowing spell. Without it…” He grimaces. “Anyway. All’s well that ends well. Aria, give me about ten minutes, and we’ll have our lesson.”
