“Her Royal Highness, Princess Serena NicArryan seeking the guidance and advice of her councilors on matters affecting the health and general prosperity of all Dragon Fey clans.”
As Bronwynn spoke, Serena made her way to the throne situated at the head of the table, one hand gripping her father’s sword. She heard the whispers of the men and women seated around the table but did not allow their words to touch her. Stepping in front of her mother’s throne, she reached out and touched the well-worn armrest. Mother, father, brothers mine, give me strength, patience, and guidance to do what is right. For our people… and for myself. The murmuring behind her grew in both volume and frustration. Serena let a slight smile curl her lips and delayed a little longer before turning to face the men and women her mother had trusted.
Each and every one of them were on their feet. Every eye was on Serena, waiting. Following her instincts, she made eye contact with each of them. She took note of who met her gaze and held it, who looked away and who would not meet her eyes at all. When that concluded, Serena took half a step back and settled into her mother’s throne.
“My lords and ladies, we wish to hear what you have to say about the well-being of our people. What say all of you?” She followed the proper, expected form. Whispers of surprise and confusion rippled through the room for several moments.
Altus tapped his knuckles on the table three times to silence the group. “My lords and ladies, the princess has made a request of you.” He paused, scanning the faces, trying to decide where to begin. “We will hear from young Lord Lucca of the Soothsayer clan first.”
The lord, who had winked at her from behind the screen, stood and offered a slight bow to Serena before giving his report.
The next few hours were filled with the accounts from the various clans. Serena listened, paying special attention to those lords and ladies who had spoken against her, wondering what details they were leaving out. When the last of them finished speaking, she stood.
“My lords and ladies.” She paused, uncertain of how to continue. “My ancestors and I thank you for this report. We are pleased to hear our people’s well-being has been cared for in my absence. Thank you for your long years of diligent service to our people. My absence was not by choice because my true lineage and station were hidden from me. Had I known, I assure you, I would have returned to my people sooner. Now that I have come home, I intend to rule as my mother and grandmothers have before me. Keeping that in mind, should any member of this council wish to retire from service, you are free to do so at any time, with my blessing.” She nodded acknowledgment to each man and woman lining the sides of the table. “I bid you good day and charge each and every one of you to continue working in the interest of all my people.” Before any of them had the chance to respond, she glided out of the room, ignoring the whispers that began when she was halfway down the table.
Bronwynn fell into step beside Serena as she exited the room with her other guards falling in behind them. None of the women spoke until they were in the princess’s chambers and the doors were closed. Serena walked into the bedroom of her suite and took off the sword belt Zanna had loaned her. She paused beside the bed and slid her father’s blade from the sheath.
“Bronwynn?” she said, laying the sword on the bed.
“Yes, Highness?”
“I want someone listening in on the council.” She glanced at the others and said, “One of you.”
“That will not be necessary, Highness.”
Serena turned to Bronwynn and folded her arms over her chest. “What does that mean?”
“Do you recall the Soothsayer lord?”
Serena nodded, taking a second to remember his name. “Lord Lucca?”
“Yes.”
Serena thought about the young man. The way he’d winked as though knowing where she was hiding, and the almost cheeky way he delivered the report from the Soothsayer clan. “Can you trust him?”
“He is our brother.”
“Your brother?”
“Yes. Zanna, Lucca and I are triplets.”
“And he’ll tell us what happens in there?”
All three women nodded, but Bronwynn answered, “I know he will.”
“How?”
“It’s what we asked him to do,” Zanna said with a shrug, “and he is happy to serve his future queen.”
Serena bit her lower lip and tapped her fingers against her leg. “I want to meet my people.”
“Then perhaps you should change.”
“What?” Serena stepped back and held her hands out at her sides. “A formal gown isn’t appropriate for mingling among the people?” She spun on the ball of her foot and stepped behind the changing screen.
“There is one other thing, your Highness,” Zanna said.
“Yes?” Serena sighed as she unlaced the bodice of her dress.
“We need to discuss your wings.”
“What about them?”
“Most of our people go about their daily lives with their wings out. I have noticed when we train, you use them because it is what we are working on. Once our training sessions are over, you hide your wings again.”
“I should have my wings out more often?”
“Yes.” All three other women answered.
“Very well.” Serena sighed. “I am going to need to meet with the royal tailor.” She frowned. “Is there a royal tailor?”
Bronwynn giggled. “No, Highness there is not, however, we will see to it you have an appointment with a tailor. May I ask why?”
Serena stepped out from behind the screen wearing her weapons training clothes. “Because I am not certain this is the way a future queen should present herself to her people on a daily basis.”
“Those are the only clothes you have that can accommodate your wings?”
“My wardrobe didn’t seem like a priority,” Serena said with a shrug, the awkward weight of her wings shifting against her back.
“I will see to it something is set up.” Bronwynn glanced over her shoulder. “Now, perhaps we should be on our way unless you wish to explain ourselves to Altus immediately.”
“I would prefer not to,” Serena said through clenched teeth, the anger bubbling just below the surface threatening to spill over. “I still haven’t decided how I intend to deal with my councilors.”
They left the room and headed out of the keep.
Chapter 19
A few days later, Serena sat behind the massive desk in her private study, a sheet of parchment, a quill, and inkwell waiting on the surface, taunting her. Her hands hovered a fraction of an inch above the smooth, dark wood, but she could not make them move.
She reached out and touched the shiny black stone she’d been given the night before. In her mind, she saw the little Dragon Fey girl, old and brave enough to approach her princess alone but young enough to still have trouble balancing with the wings weighing on her back as she did. A wistful smile softened Serena’s features as she took the stone in her hand, running her fingertips over the smooth surface. The little girl was one among dozens of her people who had gone out of their way to welcome her home. Within the clans, she had found love and acceptance of who she was. But she also discovered a people yearning for a return to the way things had been. Men, women, and families all hoping for leadership, searching for something that had been ripped from them the night her family died.
Something she also knew, with the announcement of Killian’s betrothal, she would never have with him. Sitting in the queen’s study, behind her mother’s desk, she bore the weight of responsibility. But she also realized the promise of what could be, one of finding her own way without expectations due to her station.
She touched the cuff of her shirt, fingers tracing the embroidery, remembering the stunned look on Killian’s face when he thought he’d wounded her. A bittersweet smile curled her lips, and she flashed a genuine grin thinking about what she’d seen before he took off his shirt. It was the one she wore now… when he had put it on h
er to protect her modesty.
“I could walk away. Go back to Haven. Resume my role as Governor of Lakeshire.” A slight smile curled her lips for a split second before she remembered. “Killian is contracted to marry Katia.” The official announcement lay on the edge of her desk like a poisonous snake about to strike. She wanted to get rid of it, burn it, but she couldn’t, so it kept getting shuffled closer and closer to the edge. Maybe it will fall off and get stepped on. That would be fitting, I suppose. “What am I going to do? Watch them get married? Live together? Have royal heirs? Leaving me as… what?” She stood and picked up the announcement, walking over to the fireplace. “Maybe it’s for the best. A clean break. No more of this fighting to hold onto a dream.” Tears filled her eyes and numbness radiated out from her heart. “I am sorry, Killian. I will always love you, but I have to do my duty. I think you, of all people, would understand.” Her numb fingers relaxed as the parchment slipped from her hand into the flames. She stood for several seconds, watching the fire consume the words that had destroyed her dreams. Heart aching, she turned and walked back to her desk, knowing what she had to do. It needs to be as clean a break as I can make it. One stroke of the proverbial blade.
Serena released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her lungs burning and throat tight. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Ripping out your own heart and consigning it to the eternal fires never is. I’ve been thinking about it for days and can’t see how. She fingered the embroidery as if he could sense her touch though she knew it was foolish. Perhaps, if you were here, we could find a way. She sniffed. If you were here, we wouldn’t need to. Once I write this, there will be no going back. No more whispered words. No more talking for hours through the darkest hours of the night. No more laughing. No more embraces. No more kisses. No more stolen moments. No more… us. She sat back in the chair, letting her head fall and rest against it.
Serena had always known she was a foundling, that the Harlowes had taken her in after her parents had been killed. Even as a child she’d wanted nothing more than to find her ancestors. She remembered crawling up into Mama Harlowe’s lap and asking about her real family, begging to know what happened to them. The answers never came and, in time, she gave up, determined to make her own way. Now she knew she had people who understood everything she was… she wanted to change it all. To return to the lie and be blind to the truth. To somehow turn the months back and talk to him. To give him the marriage contract she’d had drawn up instead of a ring for his birthday. To stop this madness before it began.
You’re lying to yourself. Her own voice taunted from somewhere inside her own mind.
You and Killian never had a chance. It was Katia’s voice this time, spiteful and gloating.
Your heritage will be revealed on your twenty-third birthday. It was Killian’s mother, her voice full of compassion and understanding.
Your blood alone would be enough to invalidate any marriage. Anastasia.
Marrying a Dragon Fey is fine for a commoner, perhaps even a member of a minor noble family, but not for a provincial governor and certainly not a king. Killian himself this time, haughty, distant, cold. He sounded nothing like himself.
The litany played through her mind, and when it was complete, it began again. Each word a barb striking her heart, digging its frozen claws in and burrowing deeper. She took a deep, shaky breath and released it on a sob. Prolonging this torture is pointless.
Begging the Gods for strength, Serena picked up her quill and began writing.
My dearest Killian,
“Gods. No. That’s not right.” She shook her head, scratched out the greeting and began again.
My dear Killian,
“No better, perhaps even worse.” This time, she swiped her hand across the words, smearing the still wet ink of both lines.
Killian,
My love, my prince, I am afraid we can no longer be together. This is the most difficult letter I have ever written. I do not wish to put these words on the page but know if I did this in person I would see you and lose all resolve. I wish we had followed through on one of our crazy schemes to run away together. I wish I had put forth a marriage proposal. I have spent the last few months feeling as though half of me has been ripped away.
I love you.
There is no more simple truth.
However, no matter how much I love you, the fact remains we cannot be together. I can only pray to all the Gods that somehow you understand … I do not make this decision lightly and will love you until I draw my last breath.
In time, I hope you can forgive me enough to look back on our days together with fondness. I will treasure every memory, every moment, and when I leave this world for whatever lies beyond, your name will be on my lips.
Forever yours,
Serena
Tears streamed down her face, and her breath came in shaky gasps as she signed her name, adding the looping flourish underneath to ensure he knew it was genuine. Tears blurred the writing as she shook sand over the ink to dry it before she could wipe away those words, too. She picked up the letter, stood and walked over to the fireplace.
Tipping the parchment, allowing the sand to flow into the fire, she watched sparks flare where the grains fell. Her eyes scanned the words and her fingers opened. The letter fell into the fire. Deceptively cheery red and orange flames ate away the heartfelt words, blackening the letter before tiny flakes broke off and floated away on unseen currents of air.
Numbness swept over her. Followed by the white-hot fire of rage, and finally, crushing despair.
The situation hadn’t changed. She needed to find words that would cause Killian to hate her. Ones that would shatter everything they’d shared and make him see her in a different, darker, more twisted light.
As she sat at the desk, Serena steeled her nerves and wrote a second letter even as her heart screamed with every stroke of the quill.
Killian touched the letter Ryan had delivered with the missives from Lakeshire. He’d gone through the remainder of his day with the note for him from Serena tucked in the pocket of his long coat, occasionally reaching in to touch the parchment. At the end of the day, he retired to his bedchamber, sending Thomas away, ordering his valet to stay away, to give him privacy. He waited until the doors solidly closed behind him before removing the sealed correspondence. Killian tossed his coat to one side, not paying attention where it landed. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he traced the sleeping dragon seal. He knew he was stalling for time, knowing every curve and line by heart. Since he’d received word she was alive, her letters were a touchstone… a reminder of happier days and the only way he felt connected to her. Taking a deep breath, he broke the seal and opened the parchment. He frowned, the letter was much shorter than any of her other missives. His eyes scanned her elegant hand, not believing what he saw.
Killian,
It is well past time to end my charade. I was only with you because you were the prince and heir to the throne, and I thought I could elevate my position through you. With your impending marriage, that is no longer possible. I am finally free to tell you I do not love you. I never have.
Lady Serena Harlowe
“No,” he whispered, shaking his head, the letter quivering in his hands. “No, not you too.” Killian’s eyes landed on the flourish underneath Serena’s name. He screamed and crushed the letter between his hands. His entire body vibrated with pent-up energy, and he stood and paced, unable to stay still. The one person I’ve completely trusted since my mother’s death has been lying to me. She is nothing like she professed to be. She is no better than my scheming betrothed and her cadre of conniving sycophants.
Lungs burning, throat tight, Killian flung open the doors to his bedchamber and sucked in fresh air that held echoes of her scent, a new dagger to his heart, new fuel for his rage. He caught sight of the wrap she’d worn the night she disappeared laid over one of the sofas. A wordless cry erupted from his throat. He stumbled across the room, knocking
over a small end table as he blindly groped for the shawl. Killian touched the soft satiny material and sank to his knees, fisting it in his hands. “Why?” he whispered, dropping his face into his hands. Feeling the cloth against his skin, he took a deep breath, inhaling the remnant of her scent. Her voice came back to him, assuring him what he knew was true.
She loved him.
His grandmother’s admonitions over the years washed over him in a wave as if his memory had been saving them for a moment like this one. She is a commoner. She is not worthy of a prince of the realm. She is deceiving you. She pretends to love you in order to raise her station.
Serena’s voice was next, something he’d never heard from her lips, but he’d become convinced was true. I do not love you, I never have.
The anger, which had slipped to the back of his mind and festered, raced back to the fore. Killian screamed and jumped to his feet. In three long strides, he was in front of the fireplace. He dropped the wrap, watching as the flames devoured the cloth. Then, staring at the letter in his hand, he heard the words echoing in his mind again. It is well past time to end my charade. Killian threw the letter into the fire and stormed to his desk.
Ripping open the top right-hand drawer, he threw everything it contained not even flinching as ink bottles crashed, shattering against stone. He tore the false bottom free and sent it flying as well. Breath coming in short bursts, his whole being humming, Killian paused. One strangled cry escaped his throat. Years of lies and deceit lay in the drawer. Her laughter taunted him. He heard her whispered endearments twisting into mocking sneers.
The stack of letters was bound by a long, red, satin ribbon. His lower lip quivered as he ran it through his fingers because she’d been wearing it the first time her adopted father brought her in to join their lessons. She had become bored and unwound it from her hair, toying with it throughout the class. When her father dismissed the three children, Serena had run off, the strip of cloth slipping from her fingers.
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