by Delia Castel
Marigold lowered her gaze, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.
“Mari, what’s wrong?” asked Berrin.
Polaris stepped forward, eager to help.
A pretty flush tinted her cheeks. “I’ve never waltzed before.”
“Have you done any kind of dancing?” asked Polaris.
She shrugged. “The two step or the jig.”
“Waltzing is easier for the female partner,” said Polaris. “You just need to learn to follow the basic steps and read the signals of your partners.”
She raised her eyes and smiled. “Really?”
He swallowed. The hope shining in her emerald-green eyes was beyond endearing. “We will demonstrate. Berrin, take position on the dance floor, and I will turn on the orchestra box.”
Polaris strolled to the corner of the room which housed the oak box. It was a waist-high, magical contraption that had captured the sounds of several orchestral compositions. Like most enchanted artifacts, it was covered in runes, etched within its ornate designs. He transformed the nail of his thumb into a claw and nicked his wrist. Blood poured into the small, funnel-shaped receptacle at the top, and he counted to ten before turning the skin on his arm into scales, fixing the cut.
“Why are you using blood?” Marigold’s voice rose several octaves.
He turned and smiled. “It is the only way to activate this music box.”
“B-but….” Her ringlets danced as she spluttered. “Isn’t there a key you can use to wind it up at the back?”
“This isn’t an ordinary music box.” Berrin placed an arm around her slender waist. “The orchestra box contains the sounds of several compositions.”
“Shifters can’t perform spells like witches and wizards, so the box uses the magic in our blood to power the music.”
“Dragons have magic blood?” she glanced down at herself.
“All shifters do,” replied Berrin. “Ours is more potent, due to the size of dragons and our ability to produce fire.”
The strains of a quintet filled the air, and Polaris stepped towards Berrin and Marigold. When his gaze met hers, a jolt of arousal awoke in his groin. His eyes widened, and she lowered her gaze. He cleared his throat. “The waltz is a simple, box step. Let’s practice that before learning to turn.”
She nodded.
His hands twitched to take her in his arms, but he forced himself to consider his brother’s feelings. “Berrin, how good was the instruction at the Academy?”
“I passed my dance classes, and I can lead and follow.”
“Good. Demonstrate the box steps.”
Berrin complied, and performed the basic steps that made up the waltz. While Marigold watched his feet, Polaris studied her face. She was the most beautiful she-dragon he had ever encountered. If it hadn’t been for her mating with Berrin triggering his transformation, he would have guessed she was a half-blood. Her features were far too soft and delicate compared to the females he had met at court. While most blonde she-dragons’ hair shone like candle flames, Marigold’s curls shimmered like spun gold. His gaze lingered on her parted lips, and an ache of longing pulled at his heart. A she-dragon would never entertain the thought of a relationship with an officer of the King’s Regiment. They had little to offer such a rare and sought-after creature. He lowered his gaze, letting a soft groan reverberate in his chest. If he could kiss those beautiful lips, he would die happy.
She glanced up at him, her eyes swimming with uncertainty. “Am I doing it right?”
Heat crawled up his collar like an army of ants. “Show me again.”
She demonstrated the steps perfectly, and he smiled. “Marvelous.”
Marigold beamed.
“I told you it would be all right!” Berrin wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet.
Polaris averted his gaze. He should be happy for his brother, not coveting his beautiful mate. It was bad enough that Marigold would be bound to Matheson by the King’s Blessing. The poor young lady would likely not tolerate another lascivious and unwanted brother.
When Berrin placed her back on his feet, Polaris clapped his hands. “Excellent. Now dance as partners for a few minutes to get accustomed to doing the steps together.”
They both nodded, and Berrin took Marigold’s right hand and placed his left on the bare skin of her shoulder blade. Polaris wondered if it felt as smooth as it looked. Gazing up at his brother, she slid her left hand on his bicep. Berrin adjusted her hold with a jerky movement of his arm. “Your hand goes on my shoulder.”
She smiled up at him. “All right.”
Polaris swallowed at the innocence and vulnerability shining in her eyes. For someone who had spent time in prison, she was not jaded by her run of bad luck.
Berrin waited for the right part in the music and mouthed at her to begin. Marigold took a small step back with her right leg, but Berrin overstepped and trod on her foot. She grimaced, and his eyes widened. “Sorry! I’m not used to dancing with someone so small.”
“Didn’t they provide local girls for the classes?” asked Polaris.
Berrin rubbed the back of his neck. “We danced with our classmates. That’s why I can both lead and follow.”
“I see.” Not for the first time, Polaris questioned the wisdom of sending Berrin to St. Fafnir’s Academy. Dancing with other men, in particular those of the same size, was no preparation for real life. When Polaris was a fledgeling and living at home, Father had insisted that he learned to dance with an elderly she-dragon. He had wanted Polaris to become accustomed to the female form. Father had always said that being in close quarters and in tight breeches with ladies could lead a young dragon to humiliation. He shook off the memory and walked over to Marigold. “May I?”
Berrin stepped back. “Maybe you should teach her.”
Polaris’ heart exploded into action, and his mouth dried. However, he hid this with an indifferent tilt of his head. “But I insist you both share a few dances, once we’ve covered the basic steps. Tonight, we will practice in a real-life situation.”
“What do you mean?” asked Berrin.
Polaris guided Marigold into a waltz. The moment her hand touched his, arousal jolted straight to his groin. Gritting his teeth, he thought about Uncle Hertz and the High Sheriff to staunch the flow of blood to his stiffening member.
Her steps were awkward and faltering at first, but soon, she kept in time with his movements. “The Florus Dancehall is open during Festival Week. You will both get the chance to practice with strangers and each other.”
After a full day of practicing, Nanny interrupted to take Marigold away to try on another of Kaida’s gowns for their rehearsal at the local dancehall. Although Matheson had refused to attend at first, Polaris had insisted. After all, Matheson needed to put on a performance of being in love with Marigold at the palace ball. He would not be able to do this if Marigold was stumbling about, unaccustomed to his style of dancing.
The Florus Dancehall was four times the size of the mansion’s ballroom, as it held tables around the edges for those who wished to dine. The vaulted wooden ceilings, from which hung three-tier chandeliers, shone soft, dappled light. People, shifters and humans alike, waltzed in their finery on the checkered marbled dance floor, celebrating Festival Week. Polaris glanced at Marigold, who stood between Berrin and Matheson, eyes wide, mouth agape. She wore a pink, scoop-necked ballgown that showcased a modest, gold necklace encrusted with diamonds. He wondered what servants did for entertainment in Boreas, as she seemed dazzled by the establishment.
Matheson bumped Polaris on the shoulder. “There are those shifters from the courtroom.”
He glanced in the direction that Matheson indicated and found the rotund she-bear waltzing with her much taller colleague. Polaris snatched his gaze away, not wanting to ruin the evening by dwelling on those who sympathized with Uncle Hertz.
“I’m going to dance with those two.” Matheson headed towards a pair of blonde humans tittering at him from
behind their fans.
Polaris grabbed his arm. “Not so fast, brother.”
Matheson scowled. “What?”
“People need to see you dancing with Marigold.”
He sighed and turned his gaze to Marigold and Berrin. “Very well. Would you care to dance, Goldilocks?”
“It’s Marigold,” she snapped.
Matheson’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Au contraire. An invitation came through today, addressed to Matheson and Goldilocks Auburn.”
“Stop teasing her,” snarled Berrin.
He shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
Polaris was about to scold his brother for procrastinating when a loud shriek carried over the music. Lady Brimstone’s daughters rushed across the floor, hoisting their skirts and dodging dancing couples.
“Berrin!” screeched the one with the longer face. “How wonderful to see you again. Did you come here in hopes of meeting us?”
Berrin grimaced and was about to speak, when the daughter with the more prominent teeth grabbed Matheson by the arm. “Of course he did! Come along, let’s waltz.”
“What is the meaning of this?” he sneered.
Polaris shook his head. “Never refuse a lady’s offer to dance.”
Matheson allowed the she-dragon to pull him onto the dance floor, while her sister dragged Berrin. As his youngest brother shot him a helpless look, Polaris gave Marigold a courtly bow. “Would you care to dance?”
She giggled and placed her hand in his. Polaris glided her onto the dancefloor. His heart thumped, which was odd, as he had danced with her all day and thought himself now immune to her charms.
“Very good,” he murmured. “You are no longer staring at our feet.”
Her nose crinkled. “I can feel the movements of your body. It’s almost like I can guess what you’ll do next.”
He turned her, and she followed. She was remarkable. After a day of instruction, she was dancing with such competence. It would take another day to polish her skills, and he looked forward to instructing her further. “Dancing is in your blood.”
Her eyes glistened. “I wonder who my parents were.” Her gaze flickered to her wrist. “I feel naked without my bracelet.”
Arousal shot straight to his groin, and he had to think of Uncle Hertz’ smirking face to control his body’s reaction to thoughts of her nudity. After swallowing twice, he said, “We will solve the mystery of your origins. Matheson has the best chance of finding the symbols of your bracelet in the heraldry books.”
She gave him an incredulous stare. “Him?”
“As the heir to both the estate and Lordship, Matheson took a variety of extra lessons. Recognizing the coats and sigils of all the noble families in Igneous is of the utmost importance to a dragon of his rank.”
She sagged. “If he didn’t recognize them, I’m probably not from Igneous.”
“I expect you are from overseas.” At her crestfallen expression, he added, “We will find your family.”
Marigold’s eyes softened, and she parted her lips to speak. Someone bumped into them, giving them an unexpected jolt. It was Matheson. He was about to scold his brother, when Matheson jerked his head at the main entrance.
Standing at the double doors was Lady Brimstone on the arm of Uncle Hertz.
Chapter 7
Marigold glanced up at Polaris’ ashen face. “What’s wrong?”
“Uncle Hertz is at the door.” He turned her around, heading towards the far side of the dancefloor.
She glanced at the doorway and found a young, human couple entering the dance hall. “I can’t see him.”
Polaris turned again, and his hand tightened around her waist. “That’s because he’s dancing towards us with Lady Brimstone.”
Marigold shuddered. It shouldn’t have surprised her that Governor Hertz would keep such vicious company. The dragon had killed his own brother and stolen the inheritance of his nephews. Polaris swung her off the dance floor and headed towards a smaller set of doors. She glanced over her shoulder and found Lady Brimstone. The she-dragon’s crimson eyes glowed at her, but more disturbing than her malicious glare was the flamboyant, gray-haired dragon at her side.
Governor Hertz wore a bronze frock coat that ended at his knees. Its swirling, copper embroidery, the same color as his curled wig, glinted in the chandelier light. From the cruel-sounding voice she had overheard in the storeroom, she had expected him to be a gaunt, ghoulish looking character. However, the long, copper earring dangling half way down his neck gave him the look of a libertine.
Upon meeting the older dragon’s burning, violet gaze, all the blood drained from her face. The Governor’s lips spread into a smile. He let go of Lady Brimstone and pushed his way through the dancing couples. Marigold’s heart jumped. “They are following us!”
“The High Sheriff is also here with his mate. I expect Uncle will make a scene and attempt to engineer your arrest.” Polaris stopped all pretense at dancing, gripped her hand and raced towards an exit. “As soon as the servants’ door closes, you will jump into my arms.”
She huffed out an incredulous breath, jogging to keep up. “What?”
“Do as I say. I have a plan.” Polaris shoved open the door, narrowly hitting a servant carrying wine glasses on a tray. He muttered an apology and lifted Marigold off her feet.
Stomach lurching at the sudden movement, she squealed. Polaris broke into a sprint, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Marigold glanced over Polaris’ shoulder into the empty hallway. With Governor Hertz in pursuit, she needed to focus on self-preservation. “Where are we going?”
Polaris carried her to the end of the corridor, where he flung open another door leading into a stairwell. Bounding up the steps four at the time, he said, “We’re taking to the skies.”
A whimper caught in her throat. She wasn’t exactly afraid of heights, but after jumping from a brothel window and climbing the mansion’s tallest magnolia tree, she now associated heights with escaping for her life. It was a stupid question, and she already knew the answer, but she had to ask. “Y-you’re flying?”
“Afraid?” he leapt across a landing and raced up another set of steps.
“N-no.”
He snorted and reached the top of the staircase. The warm, musty scent of cooped birds filled her nostrils, and she glanced around for signs of swifts kept as messenger birds, but the hallway was too dim. As Polaris headed for a heavy, oak door, voices echoed from below.
“He’s going to fly away with her!” screeched Lady Brimstone. “Hurry!”
Hertz huffed. “We have time. The boy won’t get very far with Merry on his back.”
“You are not exactly the dragon you used to be!”
Polaris shoved open the door and stepped into a moonlit roof terrace. A flock of birds flew off stacked, wooden perches, filling the air with the flapping of wings. The cool night air swirled around her damp skin, and she exhaled. Although Governor Hertz was only moments behind, she felt assured of her safety with Polaris. He placed her on her feet, turned, and lowered himself to his knees. “We don’t have much time. Jump on my back and wrap your arms around my neck.”
“What about your clothes?”
“They can be replaced. You, however, cannot.”
Marigold clung onto his neck, and he stood. The fabric beneath her tore, exposing his heated skin. She clutched his shoulders, the blades of which widened and lengthened into long, sinewy arms that filled the entire roof space. His thumbs turned into deadly-looking claws, and each of his fingers lengthened like spokes of a parasol, ending in talons that curved like scimitars. Thick, leathery webbing formed between each finger bone, creating magnificent wings that reflected off the moonlight like oxblood.
Her breath caught. Although she had seen him in his dragon form the day before, without the shock of having escaped the jaws of death, she could fully appreciate his magnificent transformation. By the time she turned away from the wings, the rest of him had changed. His neck, now as long a
s she was tall, was an armor of thick, horned scales that extended all the way down to his serpentine tail. She ran her fingers over the tough, leathery surface, marveling at the warmth of the furnace that lay beneath.
Her heart thudded. In moments, he would fly off this rooftop, and two dragons would pursue them through the skies. There had to be a way to slow down Governor Hertz and Lady Brimstone! She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, thinking of a solution.
“Polaris, can you melt metal without burning wood?”
He turned a massive head, lined with spiked scales as long as her forearm. Two, massive horns curved from his brow ridges, and he opened his eyes.
Marigold’s throat dried. She had once thought a dragon’s eyes were amber, but in the light of the moon, they looked like the glowing of iron straight of a blacksmith’s forge. Bursts of incandescent white radiated from a slit pupil, cooling into a flame-colored orange and then a burning red. Marigold licked her lips. “I-I need you to melt the lock on that door.”
The dragon paused, his head tilted to the side. A low rumble reverberated in his neck, sending pleasant vibrations through her forearms.
Marigold furrowed her brow. The Polaris she knew would have understood what she was trying to do. Maybe shifters lost some of their personality in their beast forms. It would make sense, as she remembered that the white bear who had wanted to save her had turned murderous the moment he had transformed. She ran her hand down his warm, scaly neck. “If what Lady brimstone said is true, you’ll need a head start. Governor Hertz won’t need to carry her on his back.”
He turned around and let out a gentle stream of warm, crimson flame. The wood blackened but did not burn. As soon as the metal of the lock melted, she patted him on the side of his scaly shoulder. “That’s enough. Let’s go.”
Polaris took a few steps towards the edge of the roof. Marigold’s heart stopped. Would he jump and then glide through the air? Her stomach plummeted at the thought. It was then that she realized she didn’t so much fear heights. She was terrified of falling.
