Age of Gold Book One to Three: To Claim a King, To Catch a Prince, To Tame a Rogue (Tales of Midgard 1)

by May Sage

  Vincent and his dragon were in agreement: she was to be followed, closely. They were also in agreement about the fact that the self-imposed task was hardly a hardship. The woman was pretty enough to look at and her proximity pleased him.

  At first, he kept his distance. It had been five days since he’d started trailing her steps and she’d never noticed it.

  This morning, she went to the market with her elder sister and a servant. He pretended to look at some incredibly cheap and useless armor: Vincent, like any man with dragon blood in his veins, couldn’t be easily hurt. But that stand just happened to be a few paces away from where the lady was looking at beignets.

  He smiled as he heard her exclaim in ecstasy, “This is the most wonderful thing I’ve ever tasted,” said she.

  “I don’t even care that this will mess with my figure,” Aleria added, making the old and usually grumpy Dreij blush.

  Beignets were common in the south, from the Sands to Farden, but she wouldn’t have been familiar with the pastry where she came from. Vincent half considered joining her then. She didn’t know about golden melts either, and no doubt the salted caramel delish, the signature dessert of Telenar, ought to be tasted by anyone who entered the doors of their city, so that they may fully appreciate the grandeur of their kingdom.

  “Mhhhhh.”

  Or maybe he just wanted to hear her moan like that again. Never had he been so glad of his acute sense of hearing.

  He stayed in place and then followed her progression through the stands. She was mostly interested in the food.

  “We should get a new dress each,” the elder sister suggested, when they arrived in front of a clothes shop. “Unless you’re interested in borrowing something of Demelza’s.”

  “By all heavens, certainly not, I would look quite ridiculous.” Vincent frowned. She never could. “But I’ll be just fine in what I’ve brought with me, as long as there’s no other ball, that is.”

  “Talia, your dress has sleeves. And it’s made of velvet.” Pointing out the obvious, she added, “It’s hot enough to roast chicken out here.”

  Was it? Dragons, like other creatures, felt the heat, but it never bothered them. The cold was another matter altogether, though. It took extreme temperatures to actually affect their health, but snowy winters were unpleasant, nonetheless. Hence, why their kingdom was as southern as the continent went.

  “I have the other one - the red silk Laya gave me back in the capital. I only wore it at the ball. It’ll do very well.”

  “Not for everyday wear.”

  Talia bit her lip. “I’ll pay for it,” her sister offered.

  “I can’t keep relying on your generosity, Aleria.”

  “Nonsense. Big sisters are meant for nothing else. And if you don’t want to ask it of me, Xandrie would certainly not see you uncomfortable, and you know it.”

  That’s when his feet led him to the women, quite against his own volition. It just wouldn’t do to have her worry about money for simple dresses. She was their queen’s little sister.

  “I still have a good half of the money you gave me - I can manage a dress,” Talia sighed. “I’m just attempting to be careful.”

  “A very good exercise,” Vincent told her, now he was close. She turned to him, frowning. “But unnecessary. I’ll see that you’re both granted an allowance from the crown. Today, you’ll allow me to purchase whatever you need.”

  She was going to be stubborn about it, he could just tell.

  Talia and Aleria were impressed, to say the least. In Malek, the dress shop had a handful of used designs they resold, as well as very simple clothing for farmers. When she or her sisters had needed anything new, they’d gone to the part of the store where fabrics were stored and picked whichever one was the least dreadful.

  The attire store on the main street of Telenar, leading right up to the palace, was of a like she’d never seen before. Their jaws fell when they crossed the threshold and didn’t close until they were done.

  The finest gowns and day dresses, riding habits, and pants-attire for ladies she’d ever seen were displayed there. Even Xandrie would have found cause to drool at the soft leather breeches fitted on mannequins. Talia had claimed she wasn’t one to enjoy frocks. She’d lied, for surely, if she’d lived somewhere where such a shop existed, she would have spent every penny of her allowance there.

  Two elegant female employees came to greet them. One look at Vincent and both of them curtsied deep, sinking to the floor elegantly.

  “Commander,” they said reverently, pressing their fists to their hearts.

  The unfamiliar gesture spoke volumes. It was deference, admiration, love, and more. The sort of thing no title earned a man. Talia looked at Vincent, who inclined his own head in greeting. What had he done to deserve it, she wondered. Yet she couldn’t say she felt surprise; just proud, perhaps.

  Which was ridiculous. What business did she have at being proud of a man she barely knew at all?

  “Greetings. I bring you Talia and Aleria, our queen’s kin. They’re in need of clothing.”

  Had he descended from the skies with a rainbow coming out of his derriere and presents for all in his arms, the two shop ladies couldn’t have seemed any happier.

  “And they came to us?”

  “My cousin shops here. That’s recommendation enough. Do for them what you will and charge it on my account,” he said, taking one of the few seats already close to the doors; there were books on a coffee table and a servant appeared to bring him tea as soon as he’d taken his place.

  “The husbands’ seat, no doubt,” Talia jested.

  His eyes shot up from the book he’d just opened, blue now, yet brighter than when they’d been full of dragonfire. A slow smile spread across his features.

  “And who do you propose to be my wife in this scenario?”

  She blushed. Hadn’t she just walked into that one.

  “Come on, tell me. Then, perhaps I ought to take her home and enjoy my husbandly dues.”

  “You’re impossible,” said she - no news to him, she was sure.

  The rake had the gall to wink. “You started it, witch.”

  And she had. Why couldn’t she help pushing him?

  “My lady, this way, if you please.”

  “Talia will do,” she assured the woman who ushered her through the colorful, silk, velvet, and taffeta heaven. “And you are?”

  The woman seemed surprised she’d asked.

  “Raquiel, my la- Talia,” she corrected herself.

  Talia followed her to the back of the store, where adorable small rooms had been set up. As most doors were open, Talia saw that each room had a different hue, although they all seemed extremely feminine. Small round seats, plush carpets, long wall mirrors, dimmer lights. She loved the atmosphere.

  “We generally work by appointment, but with the royal wedding celebrations still underway, it’s very quiet. You may pick your changing room.” Talia chose the red and gold, Aleria, the royal blue room. Raquiel added in a hushed tone, “We considered not opening at all this week, really. But the wedding night was days ago – we were hoping that most of the hangover would be gone by now.”

  Talia smiled. “I danced all night - barely had the time to drink a thing.”

  “Hence why you’re here today, and before noon, too. Well, we’re glad to have you. Now get undressed down to your underthings and we’ll take some measurements. What would you need - dresses, casual wear, lingerie?”

  She blushed. “Perhaps not on Vincent’s account.”

  Raquiel downright laughed at that. “You know, all dragons love treasures, but the Vasili? Even before old King Ryker took the throne, they were known as the richest family in the land. We learn of their lineage at school, of course. When their ancestors saw gold? They conquered it.”

  Talia recalled Vincent saying something of the sort just recently, in fact.

  I’m no man, ma’am. And dragons take their treasures.

  What an arro
gant sod. She lifted her chin. “Then perhaps I should get some underthings with my dresses.”

  The goddess knew those she’d brought with her were very worn. “Very well, Lady Talia.”

  Half blushing, half smirking, Talia knew she’d somehow won this round, although he may perhaps never know it. The man was going to purchase bras, corsets, and panties for her. Looks like the joke was on him and she was the one getting her wifely dues, after all.

  Raquiel measured her and let her roam around the shop for a time - Talia and Aleria pointed out designs they wished to try. When they came back to their respective changing rooms, those clothes hung next to her attendee’s selections. Although no underwear had been on display in the store, there also was a selection of silk and lace lingerie that made her blush absolutely everywhere at a glance.

  The experience was delightful, and stressful all the same, for once she had tried on everything, came the time to make a selection. Truth was, most of the clothes she’d picked could go, but it was impossible to resist anything Raquiel’s expertise had chosen for her. Talia was determined to only let Vincent buy her what she needed now: one simple everyday dress.

  She sighed out loud when a knock made her turn and frown.

  “I come in peace,” Vincent teased, walking in with his hand held up in surrender.

  “I could have been changing, sir.”

  “Your sister assured me you weren’t. And, don’t worry, men know nothing of these things, so I’m certainly not here to advise you on which…” his eyes went to the right, of course, immediately settling on the things she intended to get. The underwear.

  Vincent lost his ability to speak for a time. He straightened his spine. She did her best to not blush or break eye contact.

  “You could ruin a man, witch,” he accused. “I’m told you’re being difficult about choosing and all that. Let it be known that whatever you discard, I’ll have packed up and brought to your rooms.” Talia narrowed her eyes, about to tell him that it was quite ridiculous, as some of the clothes hadn’t suited her. “Raquiel is quite faithless, you’ll find. She’ll tell me exactly what you wanted. Let’s save everyone some time and just get whatever suited.”

  She glared. Then, she sighed. “I can’t even pretend to be annoyed. I just hate being a charity case.”

  Indebted to her sister’s cousin-in-law.

  Vincent sighed. “Fine. Then you’ll work it off, so to speak.”

  Did he just imply he wanted her to work on her back for clothes? Her temper flared at the mere suggestion. Before she started shouting, he cursed. “By my scales, you’re downright impossible to please. I’m doing you a favor, and if you’re not comfortable with taking without giving in return, you’ll do me one. Nothing indecent. When I get you naked and panting under me, it won’t be because you owe me, witch.”

  “When!”

  He just shrugged. Oh, the cheek of the man.

  “Fine. Let us hear what you want of me.”

  “I want you,” said he, “to take tea with my mother and tell her that I’m courting you.”

  Seconds passed. She wondered for a time if he’d just confirm that it was all a big joke, but Vincent remained silent, waiting for an answer.

  “Why?”

  “Because she and my father, are curious about you. That way, her curiosity will be satisfied and she’ll leave us to our affairs, one would hope.”

  That made no sense, to her, at least. She said so.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You don’t need to. All you need to do is agree to meet my family, so that when they hear of my spending so much time with you, they don’t attempt to kidnap you.”

  She lifted a brow. “You do intend to spend time with me, then?”

  “Yes, Talia. I do.”

  She didn’t ask why again, this time. It seemed that, incredible as it sounded, given the fact that she loved nothing as much as getting on his nerves, her Pretty Man might actually like her.

  She found herself attempting to change the subject.

  “What is it like?” she asked. He lifted a brow. “You know, flying.”

  Vincent’s expression grew dim, losing his natural spark. Finally, he said, “I don’t shift, witch.”

  Oh.

  “Not every dragon does.”

  “Of course,” said she. She knew that, and she shouldn’t have assumed, because now the easy conversation had turned awkward. What was she supposed to say? That it was alright? Everything she could think to say would have made her intrusion so much worse.

  “I did, once, though. And from what I recall, flying was exhilarating.”

  “Once?” she asked, her interest piqued.

  Vincent tilted his head. “I can almost see the question marks above your forehead. Yes, I shifted once, a long time before you were even born. I was but a child and a friend was in danger. My dragon burst out and neither of us were much in control. He burned our enemies, along with her.”

  Talia’s jaw dropped.

  “Dragons are our darkness. I’d wager you’d know a little about that.”

  She looked away, all the whole thinking that she might, in fact, know more than he did.

  Her Shadow was destructive, and perhaps dismissive of the suffering of strangers sometimes, but, at the core of things, it was a part of her, a part that loved the same things as she did. Never would it have endangered a dear one. If the dragon had, indeed, burned his friend, it was by accident, she was sure of it. But saying that seemed rather presumptuous.

  “I’m sorry,” was all that came out of her mouth.

  Now Vincent was sullen, and somewhat cold, too.

  “Come, let us talk of it. We’ve spent a few days insulting each other quite naturally, surely by now we should be able to discuss our feelings and all that.”

  “Dragons do not discuss feelings,” he replied, stifling a smile. “And shift or not, that’s still what I am.”

  “Evidently,” Talia said automatically.

  What else could he be? He’d been born with a dragon inside him, a beast that had come to the surface once.

  “You certainly growl and sulk like one.”

  Vincent did manage to smile now. “I don’t see you balking.”

  “Why would I?”

  “Because any sane woman might prefer to be courted by an actual dragon.”

  “Is that what you’re doing? Courting me.”

  “If you have to ask, I’m certainly not doing it right. Perhaps I should amp it up.”

  “Perhaps you should.”

  He moved closer to her, so close she inhaled a potent whiff of his heady scent. Then, he whispered against the skin of her neck, close to her ear, “Careful what you wish for, witch.”

  The Wall

  Three days later, she was awkwardly sipping a lovely tea, and wishing she could disappear.

  “And so, you’ve decided to stay here in Telenar?”

  She should have demanded that he’d let them have tea alone. Talia was feeling quite awkward, scrutinized by dimpled, bubbly Mula Vasili, observed by the woman’s husband, who was pretending to read, and with Vincent standing next to the window, looking out but all of his attention focused on the conversation at hand. She could feel it.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I do owe my sister a great deal and I’ll be glad to be of help to her where I can,” she admitted. “But while her and the king’s invitation was quite genuine, I’d feel awkward here, without a purpose.”

  “Purpose?” Mula asked, intrigued.

  Talia shrugged. “A job, something to do. I’m an Enchantress, of course, but I don’t quite yet know what that entails. Trips away, I’m sure. But what of the rest of my time? Everyone needs something to do.” Then, she blushed, recalling that she was talking to nobles. From what she knew of nobles, particularly women, they did not, in fact, need anything to do at all to feel quite content with their position. “I mean no disrespect to your station. But I’m used to working. I prepared spells at my paren
ts’ practice each morning and visited patients in need of magical assistance every afternoon - sometimes, I wouldn’t get back home until long after dark. Going to the capital, and then coming down to your wonderful kingdom has been different, for sure. A break, of sorts. It did me good, but I couldn’t think of any permanence without some sort of work.”

  She bit her lip and forced herself to keep quiet now. She’d probably made things worse.

  A silence followed. Mula glanced at her husband and then her son. Vincent was done pretending to look out the window at all; he watched her. With amusement, if she wasn’t mistaken.

  “Sorry, I…”

  “I’m a weapon’s master, Talia,” Mula confessed. “I met Viktor in my class. The only man I couldn’t beat in less than three minutes. I still work. Viktor may appear quite the lazy git, but he oversees his principality, down to the welfare of the lowest villager.”

  “Oh,” was all she said.

  So much for her assumptions.

  “And my son,” said she, “Commander of the king’s army, hero of the battle of Norda, is, in fact, so much of a workaholic his cousin has to enforce his vacations.”

  “Exaggeration,” Vincent retorted. “I stay at Norda because it’s my home.”

  “And you remain planted on the guard tower every day of the week because it’s fun, perhaps?”

  Vincent rolled his eyes. “Or perhaps I don’t have much else to do, mother. Besides, you ladies were discussing Talia’s ridiculous assumption that we might expect her to remain seated and look pretty for the rest of time.” He came and pulled out the chair next to hers in the dining room. “If you liked your previous position, we could set up a shop. Mages are valued in our lands. Dragons have elemental magics, but mainly used to fight, and perhaps heal physical wounds. There are bears, wolves, and other shifters in these lands who are often in need of a mage’s science for their ailments.”