by Lili Zander
7
Aria
Bastian’s standing in the entryway, blocking the door. I give him an exasperated look. “You’re not going to stop me from leaving, are you?”
A smile softens his face. “As Casius frequently reminds me, I can’t pull my Master-of-the-Universe shit on you. I thought I might come too.”
Rhys nods immediately. “Strength in numbers. Good idea. After what happened to you and Erik, we can’t be too careful.”
“Do you even have a car that will fit all of us?” I ask Bastian skeptically. “Everything I spotted in your garage was a two-seater.”
Bastian’s lips twitch. “Mausezähnchen,” he says, a wickedly amused glint in his eyes. “You do realize I’m a dragon, don’t you? We’re not going to drive to Cologne. We’re going to fly.”
I’ve only seen Bastian’s dragon form once, the night that he was attacked. I was too busy then to admire the deep ruby gleam of his scales, his graceful wings and his sinuous tail. I ogle shamelessly now.
Not only do I have five freakishly attractive mates, but they’re also dragons. I’m not entirely thrilled about the prospect of impending death, but this part, Maija Essen got very right. I’m a lucky, lucky girl.
“Hop on, love.” Rhys helps hoist me on Bastian’s back and makes sure I’m securely settled between his spikes. When I’m ready, Rhys nods to Bastian, who springs into the air.
I can fly on dragon-back a million times, and I’ll never get used to the head rush.
Bastian’s wings flap, lifting us high into the night sky. It’s an overcast night, and he climbs until he breaks through the cloud layer. The air feels chilly and damp, but Mateo’s clever warmth spell keeps me from freezing.
Rhys is flying to my right, his strokes lazy and languid, taking advantage of Bastian’s slip-stream to conserve his energy. From this angle, the flight of the dragon looks very different, and I notice things that I just can’t see from the ground. The way their necks and tails curve and bend with the wind, almost as if they’re skimming through the air. It’s exhilarating to watch…
…and over too soon. Bastian swoops low and lands on a flat roof. The moment I slide off his back, he transforms back into his human self, and Rhys comes in for his own landing. Then I realize something. “You’re not wearing any clothes,” I giggle. “You can’t go into a Norm bar butt naked in the middle of winter.” Technically, I guess they can’t really walk into a bar butt naked year-around.
Bastian chuckles. “This building houses one of my offices. I keep a change of clothes for occasions just like this.”
“And Rhys?”
He grins at the other dragon. “I’m sure I can find Rhys something to wear too. For a price.”
Half an hour later, we’re seated in a bar, glasses of Kölsch in front of us. Rhys and Bastian are squabbling about a Picasso, and I’m looking around covertly, trying to spot anything that looks out of place.
Mateo was drinking here. Under pointed questioning, he confessed that he felt wrong the moment he stood up to leave. I’ve been thinking about his attack, and lots of things don’t make sense.
The other dragons are right—there’s no way the three Norms who mugged Mateo should have been able to get a jump on him. In my practice sessions, I’ve tried to fight Mateo with a sword while he holds me off with magic, and I’ve never once been able to get past his shield. He’s incredibly good at what he does, experienced and powerful.
Which means that the knife that almost killed him wasn’t the first part of the attack. I’m absolutely convinced he was poisoned before the mugging. Something prevented him from using magic to defend himself against the three hoodlums who attacked him.
There’s a small chance that this is a wild goose chase, but the hair at the back of my neck is standing up. I’ve got good instincts for trouble, honed by years of practice. And every instinct is telling me that this bar is important.
“Penny for your thoughts, love.” Rhys’ voice interrupts my reverie. I look up to see him on his feet. “Service is really slow tonight. I’m going up to the bar to get another drink. You want one?”
Ugh. Not after last night. Mateo might have magicked away the hangover, but the memory of this morning’s headache remains. “I’m just going to sip this one,” I reply.
Rhys chuckles at my expression, and heads in the direction of the bar.
A sudden, alarming thought strikes me. I lean forward and pitch my voice low. “What if our beers are already poisoned?” I ask Bastian.
He shakes his head. “It’s safe.”
I don’t ask him how he knows. One thing I know about the dragons by now—they’re fiercely protective of me. If Bastian had any doubts about the beer, I wouldn’t be drinking it. Chances are, he’s already taste-tested mine somehow.
“I haven’t really had a chance to ask you how you’re doing.”
I put my hand over his. “I’m not going to lie. Mateo’s announcement was pretty damn scary. But I’m getting back to normal.” I tilt my head to one side and survey him. “I’m pretty surprised you haven’t sent me back to safety.”
“It’s too late for that.” He sighs heavily. “As much as I hate to admit it, the safest place for you is here. Plus, as I said to you back in the castle, I’m really trying not to be as high-handed as I’ve been in the past.” He grimaces. “At the end of the day, this is your life too. Even though my motives come from a good place, I still can’t make your decisions for you.”
My expression must show my shock. “What?” he says defensively. “People can change. I’m trying to be better.”
At the bar, Rhys is deep in conversation with the pretty blonde bartender. I’m ten-percent jealous and ninety-percent hopeful that he’s pumping her for information. Well, maybe twenty-percent jealous. Hey, I never said I was a saint.
“You are.” I turn my attention back to Bastian put my hand over his. “When we were in Manhattan, you wouldn’t have let me come to the bar.”
His lips quirk. “Back then, you’d have sneaked away regardless of the danger. We’ve both changed.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m really sorry my mother got you into this. She had no right to control your destiny.”
“I’m not sorry.”
“You’re not? Why?”
I feel my cheeks heat. “Because if she hadn’t, I would have never met any of you. And meeting the five of you…” I’m really not good at discussions about feelings. “Well, I really wouldn’t exchange it for anything.”
He tugs my hand toward his mouth and presses a soft kiss on my palm. “Every single day,” he says, “I’m so profoundly glad that you decided to steal from us. We were going through the motions, all of us, and me more than anyone else. My life was dull and colorless, and then you came along.”
I can’t meet his eyes. There’s so much sincerity in his voice that I’m afraid I’m going to start bawling. We’re in a bar. That’d be seriously awkward. “You’re just saying that because I’m part of the prophecy.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he replies calmly.
Compliments make me uncomfortable. Unless they’re about my thieving abilities. “I’m not some kind of special snowflake,” I murmur. “I wanted to know the truth about my identity. That’s mostly why I stuck around.”
He snorts. “You’ve known the truth about your identity for a month now,” he says. “You could have left anytime after that, but instead, here you are. You’re taking magic lessons. Sparring with us. You could be shopping in Berlin, you could be spending money in Paris, but instead, you’re at our side, ready to face whatever lies ahead.” His expression, when he looks at me, is tender and loving, and my heart starts to beat faster. “Has it even registered with you how rich we are, mausezähnchen?”
I roll my eyes. “Let me see. A wing of your castle is filled with treasure. Including Odin’s legendary spear. You have a hangar filled with cars that you don’t drive. We flew to Germany on a private plane. I’m not blind, Bastian. Trust me, it�
�s totally registered.”
“Whatever is ours is yours.”
I exhale. “Look, I’m not some kind of saint. I like being rich just as much as the next person. Money is a useful thing. Erik paid off Silas’s hospital bills. You flew Dr. Burdick halfway across the world so he could treat Silas. I couldn’t have done any of that when I was working a minimum wage job in New York.”
I take a sip of my beer. “I don’t want to sound like I’m above it all, because I’m not. After all, I’m spending the million that Raedwulf gave me to steal the Bloodstone, even though I failed to deliver.”
“To set up a scholarship for your friend Beatrice.”
“Casius is far too chatty for his own good,” I grumble.
“Was it a secret?” He raises an eyebrow. “If you’re trying to convince me you’re a materialistic kind, then you’ll do a better job of it if you go on a shopping spree. Take the credit card, go buy yourself a hundred-thousand-dollar handbag.”
“Are you kidding me? Somebody should slap me on my head if I ever spend that much money on a bag.”
He laughs. “I love you, Aria.”
I freeze. Did he just say what I thought he said? Did he mean it, or was it just a figure of speech? Because we’ve never used the L-word before.
He gives me a slight smile. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. After all…” He gestures to my t-shirt.
I look down to see what today’s slogan is, and wince. I don’t want feelings. I just want tacos. “It’s just a t-shirt.” I want to say it back, but I can’t seem to spit the words out. There’s been too much emotional tumult in the last few days, and I’m drained.
Right now, I just want uncomplicated. All action. No feels. Because if I uncork the bottle, everything that’s tightly contained inside of me is going to explode, and I don’t know what will happen.
Bastian doesn’t seem fazed by my reaction or lack thereof. “Rhys looks like he’s got some answers,” he says. “Let’s see what he’s found.”
8
Rhys
I know nothing about magic. I’m a competent fighter, but I’m not obsessive about training, not the way Erik is.
What I’m good at is flirting.
Which is exactly what’s needed right now. A compliment or two, and the girl at the bar is more than happy to tell me everything she knows.
“What’d you find out?” Bastian asks as soon as I set the beers on the table.
I sit down. “The bartender was only too happy to chat.”
“I noticed,” Aria says, a slight edge in her voice.
I bite back my grin at her expression. “Aria, love. You’re my mate. There’s no one else for me. She’s annoyed because they’re short-staffed tonight. She was supposed to have the day off, but she got called in because the usual bartender didn’t show up. He hasn’t shown up to work for the last two weeks. They’ve tried to call him, but he’s not answering.”
That catches Aria’s attention. “He’s missing?”
“Sure looks like it,” I say soberly. “I sweet-talked her into giving me his address.” I hold up a sheet of paper. “He lives half an hour away. Let’s go find him.”
“There’s no need,” Bastian says tightly. “Look who just walked in.”
I turn in the direction he’s pointing and mutter a curse under my breath. I don’t recognize the bald, Mr. Clean lookalike, but I know muscle when I see it. It’s the woman who’s with him that I’m more concerned about.
“That young hot Japanese girl?” Aria asks. “Umm, for the record, I’m not okay with you two checking out other women when I’m around.”
“Trust me, I’m not checking her out,” Bastian replies. “That’s Kioko Yone.”
“The head of the Society of Alchemists?” Aria’s voice is coated with surprise. “But she looks like a teenager.”
“Alchemists have their tricks. She’s older than she appears, love.” I’m about to say something else, but then Kioko Yone looks around the room and sees us.
Trouble.
For a second, wary surprise flickers across the alchemist’s face, and then her expression turns guarded. She makes her way over to us, weaving between the tables. “If it isn’t the dragon princes,” she says coolly. “The pretty one and the boring one. How exciting.”
“I can hardly contain myself,” Bastian replies flatly. “Sit down, Kioko. We need to talk.”
Her jaw tightens. “Must I remind you, Lord Jaeger, that dragons don’t rule over the alchemists?”
“Funny,” Aria remarks lightly. She puts her hand on Bastian’s arm. “Didn’t you tell me that the alchemists had asked for your help? Something about magic being eroded?”
I bite back my grin. My little kitten has razor-sharp claws.
Kioko’s gaze swings to Aria. “You’re Norm,” she says dismissively. “Don’t pretend to understand magic.”
Aria extends her right hand, turning her wrist so that the mating mark is clearly visible. Kioko inhales sharply, as does her bodyguard. For an instant, she hesitates and then pulls up a chair. “You’re their mate, aren’t you?” she asks Aria. “All five princes. As prophesied.”
My shoulders stiffen. “How do you know about the prophecy?” I demand.
Wrong tone. Kioko’s eyes flash fire. “I don’t answer questions,” she says. “I ask them.”
Bastian leans forward. “Three weeks ago, Mateo Valentini was poisoned in this bar,” he says, his voice dangerous. “Last week, Erik Valder was stabbed with a spear that almost killed him. Same poison. I take care of my own, Kioko. Start talking before I assume the alchemists are at war with the dragons and take countermeasures of my own.”
She holds his gaze for a long time. Finally, she nods curtly. “A month ago, someone broke into my private stores and stole some vials of a rare magic-suppressor potion. We’ve been tracking the thief ever since we discovered the loss.”
“Let me guess. Without any success.”
She sighs with thinly-concealed impatience. “Slater is the only one among you with any sense,” she snaps. “Of course not. You think it’s easy to break into a master alchemist’s stores? The thief is dead. Unfortunately, the vials are proving harder to find.”
Aria’s eyes narrow at the mention of Casius, and I suppress another grin. This is a whole new side of my mate, and it’s pretty flattering.
“Gideon Zyrian stole the vials,” Bastian replies bluntly. “Or one of his minions did. He’s using them against us.” He fixes Kioko with a serious look. “If the alchemists ally with us…”
She’s shaking her head before he can finish. “I think not, Lord Jaeger. This is a dragon matter. The alchemists have no role to play in your conflict with the dark mage.”
“A conflict that’ll eventually impact the alchemists,” I reply. “Are you under some kind of illusion that Zyrian will leave you alone if he prevails? Because he won’t.”
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” She gets to her feet. “The man you’re looking for is dead,” she adds. “I’ve doubled the protection around my stores. I’ll find the missing vials. Rest assured. The Dark Dragon won’t be stealing from me again.”
“How many vials?” Aria asks, her voice tinged with desperation. “At least tell us how many vials were stolen.”
The alchemist hesitates and then relents. “Six vials. One dose in each vial.”
Zyrian’s minions used either one or two vials on Valentini. One on Valder. Which leaves three or four vials out in the open.
We wait until Kioko leaves the bar, and then Aria straightens her spine. “I’m not the jealous sort, really,” she says. “But I don’t like that woman. The pretty one and the boring one, she called you. Catty bitch.”
I start to chuckle. Bastian’s phone pings before I can agree with Aria. A relieved smile breaks out on his face as he reads the message. “Great news,” he says. “Erik’s awake.”
9
Aria
Erik’s sitting up in his bed when we get back
. “You’re awake!” I squeal, throwing my arms around him and enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug. “Oh, thank heavens.”
I’m half-bracing for him to push me away, but to my surprise, he doesn’t. “Mateo tells me I have you to thank for it.”
I sniff into his shoulder. “I couldn’t have done it alone.” He’s got a really nice upper body, Erik. I’ve noticed it before, of course. I’m not blind. But this is the first time I’ve touched him, and I don’t really want to let go.
The guy was at death’s door. Stop perving on him, Aria.
I disentangle myself, feeling awkward. “I’m glad you’re conscious. It was a tense few days.”
“Don’t worry, princess,” he teases. “I’ll be up and about in no time. And then, I can kick your ass at pool again.”
A smile spreads across my face, and for the first time in days, I feel completely right. As if all’s well with the world again. “You talk a good game,” I toss back. “But can you back it up?”
He chuckles. “We’ll see, princess. We’ll see.”
Things slowly return to normal. We hear nothing more from the alchemists, but the attacks abate, at least for the time being. I keep holding my breath and bracing for bad news, but none arrives.
I double-down on my magic lessons. Mateo starts to teach me how to heal, which is a lot more complicated than the casual wave of a finger. “You make it look so easy,” I wail in the library as blood gushes unchecked from a wound on Mateo’s forearm, and nothing I do seems to fix it. “Damn it.”
“I’ve had just a little more time to practice,” he replies, as patient as ever. “As you know. I don’t expect you to master it overnight. Concentrate.”
“I am.” I tug the threads of my magic once again and imagine one of the strands stitching the cut together, just like a needle sewing thread, but the blood keeps getting in the way and blurring my vision.
