by Kiersten Fay
At length, Tristan stood, hesitating. “Very well, then. I will send my mother and her guard to watch over you until I return.”
Because he’s concerned for me, or because he doesn’t trust me?
When he left the room, she checked her bra.
The knife was gone.
7
Tristan returned from the hunt, finding no further evidence of a Kayadon incursion. All the while, he could not stop thinking of June. So frail and delicate. It was his fault she’d been hurt. Stupidly, he’d expected her to get herself to a safe distance as he began the transformation—he’d been too preoccupied by the threat of his enemy, the destroyers of worlds and murders of his father, to realize in the moment that she wouldn’t have known she should. He could have killed her.
It was only by the grace of the gods that the damage hadn’t been more severe.
Now the ceremony was about to begin. He didn’t have time to check on her, though that was all he wanted to do. Didn’t have time to drown in the full power of his shame. What had she meant when she’d stated I’ve had worse? The way she’d said it, so cavalier, made him wonder if such wounds as she’d endured were commonplace on her world.
He entered the courtyard where primly groomed trees bloomed with fragrant flowers lined the stone patio. Little lights had been strung up along the branches so they glittered in the evening. Most of the guests joined them from set of stairs that led to a second-floor balcony protruding from the castle
He expected his mother would delight in taking that path to show off what would undoubtedly be her most elegant dress of the season. Was she still with the human? Had the healer come as promised?
He glanced around, spotting a group of servants putting the finishing touches on a spread of appetizers while others handed out drinks to attendees. Perhaps he had time to slip away and check on June after all.
Someone slapped him on the back so hard he nearly stumbled forward.
“Good show back there, mate!” Cale exclaimed. He held out a goblet of something that smelled strongly of alcohol.
Tristan accepted the drink. “Thanks. You too.”
“Those bastards barely got a shot off. ‘Course, I could have taken them on all by myself.”
With anyone else, Tristan would have balked. Having fought alongside Cale, he could attest to his prowess in battle. Still, no reason to flatter him. “As always, your balls are bigger than your brains.”
Cale laughed and clapped him on the back once more. “Don’t sweet talk me like that, mate. I might just fall for you.” He held up his drink. “To burying the hatchet.”
“In one of our skulls?”
“May it never come to that.” They both took a large swig. Then Cale surprised him by saying, “In all seriousness, I’m glad you were there. We have a team going over the surveillance footage to see if we can figure out how they got into the castle, but there’s no cameras set up to watch the border. Portia is looking into that. Luckily, they only shot me, but had you not been there, who knows how many might have been harmed.”
Because Cale was a demon, Tristan knew he was nearly fully healed by now. Without a healer, a Faieara would not have recovered so quickly, but they would have recovered enough to dance and be merry tonight. A human might have never recovered.
The thought sent sharp, icy dread down the back of his spine.
He spotted her then, upon the balcony, peeking down over the banister as through searching the crowd. Her strapless viridescent bodice hugged her curves as through it had been tailored specifically for her. Her dark hair was pulled back by a shimmering studded band and braided down one side with sparkling embellishments woven throughout.
When her gaze found him, she gifted him with a radiant smile that seemed to hit him in the gut like a volley of asteroids. As she started down the stairs, the rest of her gown came into view. Wisps of sheer fabric fanned out from her waist, embellished by azure feathers and jade studs that glittered as she moved. Her beauty seemed to be attracting more than his attention. Several sets of eyes followed her now, and when she reached the landing, a Faieara male was there to greet her and introduce himself. June smiled at him—
Tristan was by her side before he even realized he’d moved, eyeing the male with dark intent. Her would-be suitor smartly backed away, as did the other Faieara who’d lined up behind him. Point made, Tristan took her by the hand and ushered her back to where Cale still stood, an astonished expression on his face as he glanced between Tristan and June.
June pulled her hand out of his. “What was that about?”
“You are not here to flirt. Remain by my side and stay out of trouble.”
Her eyes flashed with indignation and she gaped at him for several moments. Then she snagged a glass from a nearby server’s tray, took a defiant sip, and, with a parting glare, turned to walk away from him.
“Insufferable,” he muttered, then noticed Cale smirking at him. “What?” he snapped.
Cale put his hands up. “Nothing.” Then he merely rumbled out a low mocking chuckle that made Tristan want to punch him in the face. Instead, his gaze to follow June through the crowd.
Excitement had practically tangled in the base of her stomach when she’d spotted Tristan, one out of a handful of people she knew here in this strange land. She wasn’t comfortable in large crowds. Add in the fact that she was surrounded by aliens, her anxiety was next-level heightened. She was good at hiding her emotions, however, had become an expert at a young age, and when Tristan accused her of flirting and ordered her to “stay out of trouble,” the offense had spurred her pride into hyper-gear.
Had he not turned into such a troglodyte, he would have gotten exactly what he wanted. She would have glued herself to his hip just for a small measure of security.
Now the opposite was her goal. No matter how uncomfortable she became, she would bear it and grin. She’d not allow herself to be ridiculed, controlled, and cowed by a man ever again.
One problem. She was like Alice, transported to a land where nothing made sense. Magic, dragons, demons? This place was not made for her. When the healer had come and placed his hands on her, though she had been grateful, she had also been terrified by the rapid changes happening within her body. Her bruises had vanished, and she could literally feel her organs knitting together; only then had she realized she’d had some internal damage that hadn’t yet presented. The sensation has nauseated her and boggled her mind.
Though at first she’d been mad at Tristan for taking her knife, she understood—she was a stranger among a royalty. Of course they’d be protective—but she’d wanted something familiar, someone to talk this through with.
She almost shouted hail Mary, halleluiah when she spotted Zoey across the courtyard. Unfortunately, her only link to home was following the Faieara queen onto a wooden dais, where a large sheet of fabric covered something massive. When the queen called everyone to attention, June realized the ceremony was beginning.
8
As Kyra stood on stage, preparing to begin her speech, Tristan spied June from the corner of his eye. She was weaving through the crowd to get a better view. She ended up standing next to a tall Faieara guard with flowing black hair. The guard gave June a double take and then introduced himself, presenting his hand. When she placed her palm in his, he brought it to his lips for an imprudent kiss. Tristan thought he saw June’s shoulder cinch, even as a blush crept up her cheeks.
Tristan halfheartedly apologized to the Faieara in his path as he barreled past. June must have sensed him coming up behind her because her head snapped around, her iridescent eyes widening before she pointedly turned away. She hadn’t appreciated his behavior before and was now giving him the cold shoulder. No matter. She was his responsibility for the time being. At least until he returned her to Earth. She had best get used to that fact.
He plied the guard with the same look as the last male who had shown an interest in her, but this one was unfazed. “Your Majesty,” he bowed in respe
ct, but then returned his attention to June. “Aside from that nasty business before, how are you enjoying our planet thus far?”
“It’s simply stunning,” she replied, all smiles for the complete stranger. “I never knew such a place could exist. Tell me, do you do magic?”
“I do indeed.”
June practically bounced as she clapped her hands together. “No. Really? Will you show me?”
The guard looked too pleased by the request. “I would be more than happy to after the ceremony.”
Tristan cut in, “You are exceedingly interested in magic.”
She sighed as though he were an annoyance. “Wouldn’t you be if you were me?”
“No’ in the least. If I were you, I’d stay as far from it as possible. Magic has been known to seduce the weak of mind.” June gasped, incensed, and he realized his phrasing had been taken in a way he hadn’t intended. “I don’t mean to say—”
“I am not weak of mind,” she seethed, stabbing him in the chest with her finger.
“I didn’t—”
“In fact, I worked two full-time jobs to put myself through school while taking care of myself and my little brother.” He stumbled back from the potency of her rage. “And I might have blundered my way here, I’ll give you that, but that doesn’t mean I’m incompetent, or stupid, or incapable of staying out of trouble.”
He tried not to notice how the passion of her anger made her eyes flare brighter. Humbling his expression, he gripped her inciting hand in his. “Hey, I’m sorry.”
Her head reared back and she blinked at him twice, as though that was the last thing she expected him to say.
“I didn’t mean to imply any of that. I just—” His words cut off when Kyra began her speech.
“Welcome everyone. Thank you for coming. Tonight, we’d like to honor the sacrifices of our dearest friends and allies and of King Mar himself, leader of the fierce Okora dragon clan. King Mar, like many others, Faieara and dragon alike, gave their lives to free the Faieara from the blight of tyranny and injustice. Their sacrifice can never be repaid. Their bravery will never be forgotten. And I promise, as long as I am on the throne and able to fight, our alliance with thrive stronger than ever and the terrible loss of our loved ones will not be in vain.”
Kyra glanced over, cueing Zoey, who yanked away the heavy tarp to reveal a majestic alabaster dragon statue, body rearing up, wings spread wide as though ready to take off from the ground. The crowd heartily clapped for the display.
When the applause died down, Kyra continued. “This statue, prominently displayed in the heart of our kingdom and carved from the strongest stone found on Evlon, depicts the power and might of our dragon brothers and sisters and will stand as a representation of our undying gratitude to the Okora clan. Whenever anyone looks upon it, they will be reminded of the noble actions not only of those who fought and lived, but of those who fought and died, for those who made it possible for the oppressed and abused to stand up and say no more! For the exploited and abused, chained and enslaved, to rise up! To seize the power that had been stole form them. To demand their freedom! To take their freedom. By might and by right!”
Cheers erupted from the crowd as Tristan fought the tight lump in his throat, and June wiped at her eyes and sniffled.
“And now I would like to invite King Mar’s successor, and treasured friend, King Tristan Okora up with me to renew our longstanding and cherished alliance.”
At mention of his name, June regarded him with warm esteem, her eyes glossy.
“You want to see some magic?” he muttered in her ear.
Her brows shifted in question.
Threading his fingers through hers, he tugged her along as he made his way up the platform.
9
“Wait. Tristan.” Hand trapped in his, June gaze out at the crowd as they crossed the platform, and only then realized how many were in attendance. How many eyes were now upon her. She felt a cold sweat build between her shoulders, even as her skin grew hot.
Not wanting to make a scene, she hurried alongside Tristan and tried to project an air of confidence as if it were every day that she was pulled on stage by a handsome dragon king. Kyra smiled kindly at them both as they approached. As far as June could tell, she didn’t seem offended that Tristan had yanked her up there, but who could tell for sure?
From the opposite side of the platform, three Faieara approached, each carrying an item. The first, a podium that was set near Kyra, upon which the second laid a book and opened it to a page marked by a thin red ribbon. From his pocket, he retrieved an elegant quill, setting next to the book. The third presented a gilded goblet, holding it up for all to see.
Cale stepped forward next, looking oddly disgruntled and brandishing what looked like a very sharp dagger. June sidled closer to Tristan.
“This is blood magic,” he told her, too low for anyone else to hear.
Taking his lady’s hand in his, Cale turned her palm up, then leaned down and placed a delicate kiss on her wrist. Then, with a heart-wrenchingly pained expression, he took the blade and sliced a clean line along her palm. Blood welled. Kyra closed her fist over the goblet, allowing a stream of blood to trickle into the container.
Then Cale, no longer appearing reluctant, turned to Tristan and extended his hand. When Tristan placed the back of his hand in Cale’s palm, he muttered, “You sure you don’t want to kiss it first?”
Cale replied with a devious smirk. “I could use my fangs to draw blood if you like.”
Instead of waiting for a reply, Cale simply sliced Tristan’s flesh open. Tristan didn’t betray any pain, though the cut was much deeper this time. After he filled the goblet with his blood, Kyra dipped the quill in the mixture and signed her name in the book. After each stroke, the blood-ink brightened to the color of white-hot lava and then caught fire, tiny rivers of flame that burned her signature into place. Tristan repeated the action with the same results. When he set the pen down, the book itself began to glow, and the light branched out, like divine tentacles, reaching farther and farther until it engulfed both Kyra and Tristan. June stepped back, amazed and petrified by the sight.
Soon enough, the light faded, and Kyra declared, “The alliance is solidified by the will of my people and yours.”
Once more, the crowd erupted in cheers, and then celebratory music erupted through unseen speakers…and June recognized the song: “We Are The Champions” by Queen?
“Is this one of Zoey’s songs from her music stick?” Cale grumbled.
Kyra smiled. “All hail Queen.”
They exited the stage, joining Zoey and Tristan’s mother, who’d been standing off to the side with towels and pitchers of water to wash away the blood from their hands.
June noticed their wounds already appeared days old. Even still, a healer stepped up and brandished his magic so the cuts closed fully. June was bewildered and astonished by all that had just occurred, but when the chorus hit, she couldn’t resist joining in as Kyra and Zoey belted out the tune. Though none of their voices were particularly great, their enthusiasm amused the others.
Tristan actually laughed, the sound deep and rich and dipped in chocolate. By the way Edel glanced at him, almost in sunny surprise, June got the feeling he didn’t laugh often…or hadn’t in a while. And though it was her silliness that inspired his buoyancy, it made June’s heart soar.
“I picked this for you, June,” Zoey declared.
“Really?”
“I hoped it would make you feel at home. I know it took me a while to get used to the idea of extraterrestrials. Let alone traveling around with them.”
“Don’t lie,” Kyra admonished. “You pestered me for weeks to make this the first song of the celebration.”
“Okay, June, I used you as an excuse to get what I wanted.”
“Glad I could be of service.”
“It does seem befitting,” agreed Edel, who had been caught tapping her foot to the beat. “Even if it is a bit uncouth.”
<
br /> “You should hear some Marilyn Manson,” said Zoey.
“Nope,” Kyra proclaimed, waving her hands back and forth. “Nobody’s ready for that.”
Zoey snickered, just as the song came to an end and another began—June laughed—”Dancing Queen” by ABBA.
Kyra chortled. “Oh, come on.”
“This is your theme song!” Zoey exclaimed. Then, dancing backward toward the dance floor, Zoey crooked her fingers at Kyra. “Come on, dancing queen. Let’s tear it up.”
Needing no more encouragement than that, Kyra followed her friend. “Come on, June!”
June glanced over at Tristan, who gave her a humored yet exasperated nod of his chin.
June adored Zoey’s playlist. After rocking it to “Dancing Queen”, they shook their bodies to a procession of chart-topping songs: “I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas, followed by their hit “Let’s Get It Started”; “Happy” by Pharrell Williams; “Brick House” by the Commodores, which pulled from them the most ridiculous moves one could imagine; “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper; and “One More Time” by Daft Punk.
At one point they’d managed to pull Edel onto the floor, who’d humored them for one song and demurely swayed to the music while the rest of them let their freak flags fly. And it wasn’t just them—many of the other Faieara, taking a cue from their queen, were getting into the spirit as well, though they danced with much more grace and dignity. The earlier attack aside, this was turning out to be one of June’s most enjoyable evenings in recent years.
