“I didn’t want to be eaten by yorkins who’d be attracted to the smell of…” Mede frowned. “Wait a moment, yorkins never come into this part of the mountains.”
Grace wiggled the dress in the air. “Try this on.”
Mede didn’t move to take the garment, instead eyeing it as if it would strike out and bite her like a poisonous givre from the marshes. “So do you manipulate father often?”
“I persuade,” Grace corrected. “When you’re married you’ll understand. Men like to be men. Let them. Let them think what you want them to do is their idea. Stop trying so hard to be a man, Medellyn. You act as if males are the only ones with natural tools at their disposal. Men need women to help them. They don’t always admit it, especially these alpha dragon types, but in many ways a woman’s gifts are so much more powerful than brute strength.”
Mede was speechless.
“Close your mouth, dear,” Grace said.
Mede did. The words stunted with disbelief, she muttered, “You had that dress sewn for me. You knew you would get me to go to the festival.”
“Of course I had the dress made. A lady always plans ahead. Now try it on for me.” Grace pressed the garment against her daughter’s chest forcing Mede to hold on to it. Lowering her tone, she added, “Or come the festival it might not fit right. You don’t want to be naked in the receiving line, do you? Though that might get me grandchildren faster.”
Mede gasped that her mother would even think to utter such a teasing comment. Grace started to hum happily as she moved back to arrange her little plate of biscuits, leaving her daughter to stare after her in stunned silence.
* * *
“Is going naked still an option?” Mede frowned as she stood in the bridal gown feeling like she was being strangled by material. The corset bodice was fitted to her waist so tight she could barely breathe and she was pretty sure her breasts had never been pushed so high in her life. Her mother had cinched her in, pulling strings along her back as if Mede might otherwise escape the horrendous thing and run away. Luckily the dress hid her scar before her mother could see it, though the tight press of the corset did cause it to ache. “Tell the truth. This is really some kind of prisoner device.”
The skirt stirred around her legs as she moved—silk fabric overlaid with more lace. So much lace. It would be impossible to run without tripping.
“I wore a corset when I married your father,” Grace said. “It is good luck to wear something old fashioned.”
“I think breathing is pretty lucky. How about we do that?” Mede panted.
“You’ll get used to it,” her mother said, unconcerned. “It will keep you from running away.”
Her mother knew her so well.
“And this,” Grace said, holding up white gauze, “is your veil.”
Grace slipped a bracelet of silk over Mede’s wrist. A long piece of gauze was attached to it. She first ran the strip of flimsy material behind Mede’s back before attaching a second bracelet to the other wrist. “Beautiful.”
Mede tried to pull her hands forward only to discover the wrist veil limited her movements significantly. She pulled one hand forward which forced the other hand behind her back.
“Get me out of this,” Mede said, trying to wiggle free.
“Is someone outside?” her mother questioned.
“What?” Mede turned, stunned to watch her mother leave her. “No, come back. Untie me!”
The sound of muffled voices caught her attention. Mede reached behind her back, breathing hard as she tried to figure out how to loosen the corset to escape the bridal gown. The effort made her lightheaded and she swayed.
“Prince Llyr, welcome, do come in and sit down.” Grace’s voice carried from the other room. “I’m sorry, but my husband is with the herd. One of the ceffyls is expecting a baby.”
Mede stiffened. What was the prince doing here? Her arm instantly tingled, but she wasn’t sure if it was the memory of his touch, or the lack of blood flow in her body. She pulled at her waist and stomach, trying to loosen the material. Her lungs began to burn. Tiny prickling sensations made her legs weak as she stumbled to the door.
“Can’t…breathe,” she whispered. “Can’t…”
Chapter Five
Llyr tried not to look around too eagerly at the small mountain home. Whereas in his home he was surrounded by carved stone, this house was built of wood. The textured grains of the walls were still evident in the smoothed planks. It was immaculately cleaned and decorated. Though the entire house would easily fit into his wing of the palace, this place felt more welcoming than his did.
Tiny bowls filled with dried flowers were evenly spaced along the length of a short-legged, long table next to a couch. Closing his eyes briefly, he expected to detect their decay. Instead, he smelled a heady perfume mix that seemed to exude from the dried petals. A small fireplace had been stacked with wood, ready to light, though the days had been warm. Floral-print material covered the window. It matched the pattern on the couch. By the softer hues, he guessed the lady of the house did the decorating. Axell didn’t really seem like the house type. Whenever Llyr met Mede’s father, he smelled of the outdoors—a not unpleasant combination of ceffyl and fresh mountain air.
Since officially meeting Mede at the campsite, he had made it his business to learn everything he could about her family, in hopes of initiating conversation when he saw her next. Her father was known to him. As the main ceffyl breeder on the planet, Axell was well respected and liked. His gruff manners did not faze the Draig in the least. Her mother, however, had a charitable reputation. Most of the stories about her consisted of how she brought food to the sick and helped new mothers to clean their homes so that they may rest after labor. Actually, he’d thought maybe the talk of her good deeds was inflated, until today, when he’d met her and looked upon her face. There was virtuousness in her, the kind of decency that reflected through the eyes from the spirit. It couldn’t be faked. When he looked at Lady Grace, he found himself literally wanting to be a better person.
And then there was Grace’s daughter. Mede was a strange mix of her beautiful mother and her fierce dragon father. Even now the nerves in his fingers remembered how she felt against them—and that had only been her arm. He balled his fist tightly together, trying to erase the feeling so he could concentrate.
Lady Grace smiled courteously at him, and waited for him to speak. He had the impression she’d wait as long as it took, without rudely pointing out that he merely gawked at her home after arriving there uninvited.
Llyr walked toward the display of old weapons on the wall. “These are very impressive.”
“My husband’s family—” Grace began.
“Can’t breathe.”
Llyr turned in surprise just in time to catch Mede as she fell toward him. Her limp body draped into his arms. Without thought, he lifted her against him. Her head rolled to rest on his shoulder. Shallow breaths hit the side of his neck, so light that he heard more than felt them. The sudden shock of holding her almost weakened his knees, and he stiffened his legs so as not to fall over.
“Oh,” Grace gasped. She waved that Llyr should put Mede on the couch. He obeyed the lady’s silent bidding. Even as he sat, he didn’t want to release his hold.
“Tomos, a medical unit, quick,” Llyr called to his man waiting outside, knowing that Tomos would hear him with his keen senses.
“Keep her upright,” Grace directed.
Llyr held Mede tighter at the command, pulling her to his chest. He wasn’t sure he could let her go. His fingers kneaded against her skin. The scent of her hair filled him and he breathed deeply, while trying not to have an inappropriate reaction to her nearness. He’d dreamed of holding her, but never did he think this moment would come so soon.
Grace jerked at Mede’s back, loosening the laces of her bodice. As the material gave way, Mede gasped almost instantly for breath. She drew her head up.
“I always wore it that tight,” Grace said. “
You’ll get used to it.”
Mede blinked several times before flinching. “Ow.” Her right arm was trapped awkwardly at her side. She leaned left. He didn’t let her go as she straightened the limb. “What…”
Mede’s grey gaze found his. At first, he thought her eyes were completely monochromatic, but up close he could see the thin threads of violet in them. For a long, wonderful moment, she didn’t fight him. Instead, she merely looked at him, as if content to be held.
“I have the medical unit,” Tomos said, hurrying in the door. His dark brown eyes were hidden by his even darker hair as it fell forward over his face. It was clear the man had rushed to produce the unit from Llyr’s pack. Tomos had a good heart, and often accompanied the prince when he came to the mountains—mainly because he was a son of miners and had been born in Mining Village. He went back as often as he could to visit his parents.
Mede stiffened at the sound and pushed her arms against Llyr’s chest. She eyed the dormant crystal at his neck. The softness left her as she forced him to release his hold. Well, in truth, he could have probably kept her against him with brute force, but he didn’t think that would make the best impression on Mede or her mother.
“What happened?” Mede’s gaze met her mother’s.
Tomos slowly stepped closer to the couch. “Do you need this?”
“Yes,” Llyr said.
“No,” Mede answered at the same time.
“Yes,” Llyr said again, the word coming out forcefully so that Tomos would know it was an order. He rarely used his position to get his way, but this was a special case. Mede’s eyes challenged him. Grace motioned that Tomos should proceed.
Tomos eyed the unit for a moment. He was a miner who had yet to try for a wife, and was not used to medically examining women. The fact that Mede was perhaps one of the first unmated women he’d ever come across would make his situation worse. He glanced at his crystal, seeming to relax a tiny degree when it didn’t glow.
“Tomos,” Llyr insisted, attempting to give the man permission with the sound of his voice, and thus the encouragement he clearly needed to proceed.
Confused, Tomos started to reach forward with the medical unit only to pull his hand back.
“Perhaps I should?” Grace offered.
Tomos practically thrust the unit at the lady in relief, and retreated outside to give them privacy. Llyr chuckled. Whoever was fated for Tomos would have to be strong willed. He doubted the man would make the first move, even if the gods themselves came down and told him who to marry.
“I’m fine,” Mede insisted. Her tone was even but she glared at him from the opposite end of the couch. He wondered if the pleasantness of her voice was for her mother’s benefit.
Now that distance was between them, Llyr was able to look at her gown. The tight bodice of the wedding dress defined her waist and hips, in a way the long tunic shirt she wore the night of her initiation into the brotherhood, had not. It also pushed up her breasts like two very tempting offerings. Llyr wasn’t sure what he wanted to do more—grab them, or jealously hide them from the view of others.
Wait, no, that was a lie. He definitely wanted to grab them more than hide them. They looked so soft.
Grace ran the medical unit over her daughter’s chest and head. The motion broke his fixated gaze. Llyr realized he’d been staring at Mede’s breasts like a fool. He tried to avert his eyes from the women, but it didn’t work. So as a compromise, he looked at Mede’s face.
“It says your heart is racing a little fast.” Grace glanced at Mede and then the prince. “And your temperature is higher than normal.”
Mede snatched the device from her mother. “Of course it is. You tried to strangle me with a wedding gown. I think it’s a sign from the gods not to go to the festival.”
Llyr tensed and had to keep himself from interrupting.
“Nice try. You’re going. I have your word.” Then, grinning, Grace took the unit from her daughter and began scanning herself. When she finished, she turned the screen so Mede could see. “All clear.”
“If I have to go to the festival, then you have to go see a medic. That was the deal, not to simply use a medical unit. I believe the closest medic lives at the base of the mountains near the palace, mother.”
Grace actually paled. “Let me give this back to Tomos.”
“Your mother needs medical attention? I will send Tomos to the palace at once,” Llyr said, moving to stand.
Mede grabbed his wrist. “Don’t you dare. If she wants me to suffer by trying to find a life mate, she can suffer by riding a ceffyl. She hates those things.”
“But your father—”
“Right? And everyone says the gods are so good at making matches. Yet they paired the ceffyl breeder and the noblewoman who gets nervous around large animals. That’s why you don’t see any herds near the house most of the time. If you ask me, the gods are well liquored when they’re pairing us up.” Mede let go of him. He wished she wouldn’t. Her touch sent shockwaves over him. How could she not feel it too? How could he not affect her as fiercely as she affected him? Even now she looked like she wanted to hit him, when all he could do was think about kissing her.
* * *
Mede wanted nothing more than to claw the eyes out of Llyr’s head. Gods’ bones those eyes were dangerous. When he looked at her he made her weak inside. She hated to feel weak. And when he’d held her…oh, when he held her. She took a deep breath, still feeling every inch of his body as if it had never left hers.
Each nerve tingled violently. Her heart raced. And, yes, even her temperature was too hot. She’d almost sarcastically thanked her mother for pointing that embarrassing fact out. As if fainting wasn’t bad enough.
Again she looked at Llyr’s necklace. Nothing. No glow. No destiny standing right in front of her. Just a man—a sexy, aggravatingly perfect dragon man.
Mede stood and moved toward the back rooms so she could take off the ridiculous dress. She tried to think of something clever to say, but nothing came to mind so she stayed quiet and endeavored not to look like she was running away from the prince’s presence.
Once alone, she struggled to get out of the corset. After she’d finally managed to wiggle it down her hips and off her legs, she launched it at the wall. It made a thwap sound before falling on the floor. Almost defiantly, she took several deep breaths. How was a woman supposed to run or fight in that horrific torture device? Mede could barely manage to walk across the house in it.
Going to her trunk, she found herself grabbing a pretty tunic dress instead of her normal pants and shirt. Her mother would be so happy if she wore it. Even as she put the dress back and grabbed a plain shirt instead, she knew she was being childish. She slipped on her pants and boots before heading back out to the living area.
Grace smiled at her. “Prince Llyr is on his way to speak to your father.”
Mede nodded and avoided looking at the prince directly. “He’s not here. Try the north valleys.”
“So your mother told me,” Llyr said.
Did his voice have to be all low and smooth? She trembled.
“Nice of you to come by,” Mede lied. If she never saw him again, never felt all shivery and weak from his touch, it would be too soon.
“Mede,” Grace said firmly. A smile remained on her pleasant features despite the warning in her tone. Undoubtedly, Grace wanted Mede to invite him to dinner, which would turn into twelve unbearably slow courses—delicious courses, but slow. “As I have to prepare to go to the palace to see a medic, you will need to escort Prince Llyr to where your father is in the western field.”
Mede’s eyes rounded. “But—”
“You should be able to track him quite easily,” Grace said.
“But…” Mede’s mind raced for a way out. She stepped closer to her mother and lowered her voice, though she knew Llyr could still hear her if he wanted to. He was standing only a few feet away. “Propriety. You always say women should never go with men unescorted.”
Grace actually laughed as if Mede had told a very humorous joke. “On my Victorian home world with human males. Since when do you recognize propriety?”
Mede knew telling her mother she’d been camping had been a mistake.
“What are you worried about?” Grace whispered. “He’s Draig and his crystal is dormant. Take the prince to see your father.”
Mede looked at the prince, silently begging him to let her out of it.
“Your presence will be a welcome addition to our traveling party,” Llyr said.
Curse him.
“We’ll wait for you to gather whatever belongings you need for the trip,” he added.
“Why? Are you unable to run? The western fields are not that far,” she challenged. “I can run there and back by tonight if we don’t stop.”
“We’re worried about a couple of the ceffyls. We thought it best to bring them to your father, instead of summoning him to the palace away from the herd. They’re traveling slowly.” Llyr did not rise to her baiting.
“My father is not going to be happy with that,” she mumbled, going to pack a bag. Mede hoped it wouldn’t be more than one night—though how she was going to make it through one night in the same campsite as Llyr, she wasn’t sure.
Chapter Six
Var Palace, Attor’s Bedchamber
“What do you mean you don’t know where she is?” Attor demanded, glaring at the guard. “How hard is it to find one female dragon?”
He paced his bedchamber in frustration. It was as if Mede had disappeared. Where were they keeping her? He’d sent his best scouts into Draig territory to find her. He should have her in front of him by now.
“We’ve been watching the skies, but we haven’t seen her,” the guard, Novem, defended.
“The skies?” Attor tried to take a deep breath to calm his outrage. If he wasn’t so disappointed, he would have laughed at the man. Instead, he grabbed the nearest object—a bronzed rendition of the Var royal crest—and flung it at Novem’s head. “She can’t fly, you hurtyn! Those are children’s stories.”
The Dragon's Queen (Dragon Lords) Page 6
