by Zoe Chant
He barely walked three steps before he was once again halted.
“Congratulations on your marriage,” said a beaming old lady he didn’t recognize. “May you have many fat, healthy babies!”
“Thank you so much,” Victor replied politely, looking for a way out.
“Fat! Healthy! Like you once were!” She pinched his cheek. “Oh, I remember those delicious chubby cheeks you had. Delicious!”
Victor fled. But no sooner had he escaped the old lady than he was pounced on by another wedding guest. And another. And another.
Just when he thought he’d gotten away, a courtier waylaid him. “Prince Victor, I’m so sorry to bother you on your wedding day, but the wedding caterer is demanding immediate payment.”
Impatiently, Victor said, “Then pay him.”
“Yesterday the treasurer resigned without notice, and no one else is authorized to access the treasury.”
It was moments like these that made Victor wish he had run off to America with Debbie. He couldn’t even get away from court problems on his own wedding day! “Why don’t you bring it to the attention of the Queen Regent?”
“I did,” the courtier said with a distinct tone of annoyance. “Yesterday. She said she would appoint an interim treasurer by the close of day. But she has done nothing.”
Aunt Agatha had undoubtedly intended to select a replacement, but had been distracted by Princess Eugenia’s disappearance. But this man didn’t know about that—none of the courtiers did.
“Do you have paper?” Victor asked.
The courtier produced a scroll, a pen, and soft wax from one of his voluminous pockets. Victor scribbled a proclamation appointing the treasurer’s assistant as interim treasurer for a period of one month, signed it, and stamped the wax with his seal ring. “Here you go. Please have the new treasurer pay the caterer immediately.”
The courtier dispatched, Victor once again tried to make his way to his bride. But she was no longer there. He glanced around. Debbie was nowhere to be seen.
Help Debbie!
His dragon’s sudden hiss made Victor jump.
What do you mean? Victor asked inwardly. Where is she?
That way, his dragon hissed.
Victor had no idea how his dragon knew Debbie needed him or where she was or what was wrong. But if his dragon thought his mate was in trouble, then Victor would run to her rescue. He bolted in the direction his dragon had indicated, not caring how strange that might look to onlookers.
His dragon led him away from the crowd of wedding guests, and to a gazebo in a quiet part of the garden.
She is there, hissed his dragon. Hurry! She is frightened.
Victor drew his dress sword from its sheath as he rushed inside; it was ceremonial, but sharp. And he knew how to use it.
A man and a woman stood with their backs to Victor. They seemed to be menacing Debbie, who did indeed look frightened.
Protective rage burned through Victor at the sight. He couldn’t believe that anyone would have the nerve to threaten his mate—and on their wedding day, too!
“Unhand my bride!” Victor shouted.
The man and woman turned around, both looking startled. One was the curvy redhead who had accosted him earlier. The other was a tall, handsome man with the characteristic amber eyes of a golden dragon. The man stepped protectively in front of the woman, laying his hand on the hilt of his own dress sword.
“How dare you frighten my bride!” said Victor. “Debbie, darling, what were these miscreants trying to do to you? Shall I summon the guards?”
“No!” Debbie burst out. He was concerned to see that she didn’t look relieved at his entrance; instead, she seemed even more worried. “Victor, we need to talk to these people.”
“Why? Who are they?”
“I’m Journey Jacobson,” said the woman. “I was trying to get you to come here to talk earlier.”
“I am Lucas,” said the man. “I once was Prince Lucas of Brandusa.”
So that was the famous Lucas!
“You’re Lucas?” said Debbie, sounding even more confused.
Lucas and Journey looked at each other. Then Lucas said to Victor, “Are you aware that the woman you are about to marry is not Princess Eugenia?”
Victor could think of no better response than to bluff. “Of course she is! How dare you suggest that my mate is a liar! Get out and leave our wedding, now. And if I ever hear that you’re spreading false rumors about my beloved mate, you will face the wrath of the dragon!”
Lucas didn’t move. “I gave this imposter a false name, and she accepted it without a murmur. The real Eugenia would not fail to recognize me. But even had my appearance changed so much that she no longer knew me, the real Eugenia would have known my name could not possibly be correct.”
“Why?” Debbie demanded.
“Agne is a woman’s name,” Lucas replied. “Anyone from Doru would know that. It would be as if I had introduced myself as Katherine.”
“I didn’t catch your name,” Debbie put in. “There was a lot of crowd noise.”
Victor raised his sword, furious. “How dare you set traps for my mate! Get out, and never come back!”
Undisturbed, Lucas turned to Debbie. “I’ll believe that you’re Eugenia if you can tell me two male names that are common in Doru.”
The dead silence that fell was broken by something completely unexpected—Journey’s sudden laugh. “Lucas, I just realized something. Victor called her ‘my mate.’ Twice. Whether he knows who she is or not, he doesn’t need to be rescued from marrying the wrong woman.”
“Oh!” Lucas suddenly looked much less menacing. Turning to Debbie, he said, “My mistake. I assumed you were trying to trick Victor.”
Victor and Debbie exchanged glances. Debbie gave Victor a wry smile and a nod. “Put your sword away. I think they meant well.”
Victor sheathed his sword and indicated the chairs scattered around the gazebo. “Please be seated. If you will both swear yourselves to secrecy, Debbie and I will explain. It is a matter which involves the stability of two countries.”
“I swear,” said Lucas, and Journey echoed him.
Victor and Debbie quickly explained the impersonation and its reasons.
Journey gave them both a warm smile. “I get it. Lucas had so much trouble marrying me, he ended up having to give up the throne to do it.”
Lucas laid his hand over Journey’s. “There were other reasons as well. I am much happier in America.”
Better you than me, Victor thought.
Despite the difficulties and annoyances of court life, he loved Rodica. And his mate’s descriptions of day-old coffee in styrofoam cups had done nothing to make him want to move to her country.
Debbie sighed. “I’m going to be in trouble if everyone who’s ever met Princess Eugenia realizes I’m not her.”
Lucas shook his head. “They will not. There are many guests here today who have also met Eugenia. It was not I who discovered you, but Journey. I only tested you after she had already come to me with her suspicions.”
Debbie turned to the red-headed woman. “How did you figure it out?”
“People don’t shake hands in this part of the world,” Journey said. “Men bow and women curtsey. But I’m American, and I forgot and held out my hand to you. If you were really from Doru, you’d have ignored it and curtseyed, or given me a weird look until I dropped it. Or if you’d seen a lot of American movies, you might have taken it, but you’d have given me a dead-fish shake because you don’t actually know how to shake hands.”
“Oh, no,” Debbie groaned.
Journey laughed again. “Yep. You’ve got a nice strong handshake. Bet you get lots of compliments on it back home.”
Debbie gave a sheepish nod. Turning to Victor, she said, “And then I dug the hole even deeper. Journey asked me if I’d been to America, and I panicked and said no.”
Lucas took up the story. “Journey had assumed you had learned to shake hands in Amer
ica. She was merely making conversation. But when you looked alarmed and denied it, she found that very suspicious. She took me aside and asked me what I thought. I had not yet had a chance to greet you, so I too offered my hand.” He smiled. “I have spent years in America, but you still shake hands more naturally than I do.”
Debbie buried her face in her hands and groaned again. Victor gave her a comforting pat on the back.
“And also, your hand was not hot,” Lucas went on. “I thought, ‘perhaps Eugenia has no flame. Or perhaps this woman is not Eugenia.’ So I told you that I had a cousin who wished to begin investing in the stock market, and I wondered if you could recommend a good stock for beginners. You said you would give it careful thought, as a cousin of mine deserved no less, and give me a recommendation tomorrow.”
“That was quick-witted,” said Victor.
“It was digging my hole all the way down to China,” Debbie said glumly. “The real Princess Eugenia would have known instantly, right?”
“No doubt,” replied Lucas. “But it was not your reply itself which convinced me that you were not Eugenia. It was the tone of it. The real Eugenia would have radiated delight at the idea of giving careful thought to selecting a good stock for beginners.”
Earnestly, Lucas went on, “I do undercover work myself, and often need to pretend to knowledge which I do not have. You do not need to become an expert in economics and finance to impersonate Eugenia. Putting it off until you can look up the correct answer should suffice. What you do need to know is that Eugenia loves those subjects. Practice an expression of bliss whenever someone mentions them, and you will fool even someone who knows her far better than I.”
“Thanks, Lucas,” Debbie said. “I really appreciate you giving me tips instead of turning me in.”
Lucas smiled at her. “My pleasure. Journey and I know the difficulties of a relationship between a prince and an American.”
Victor too gave Lucas and Journey his heartfelt thanks. “I look forward to inviting you both to the christening of our firstborn.”
“I look forward to it as well,” said Lucas. Journey echoed his sentiments. Then they went out hand-in-hand, leaving Victor and Debbie alone in the gazebo.
“That was scary,” Debbie said. “But at least it ended well. And now I know: no more handshakes, and Agne is a girl’s name. Hey... how did you know to come here? Journey showed up to guard me while Lucas went and fetched you, but he hadn’t left yet when you showed up.”
“I knew you were frightened,” Victor said. “It is something mates can do.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean, if you’re ever in danger, I’ll get some sort of mental bat-signal?”
After a moment spent figuring out the general meaning of ‘bat-signal,’ he said, “I doubt it. My dragon told me, and you have no dragon.” When he saw her disappointment, he patted her hand. “Do not worry. You will never need to rescue me. It is I who will always be able to rescue you. Though I hope you will never again need rescuing!”
“Hopefully not.” She gave him a slow, wicked smile. “Hey... you looked really hot brandishing that sword. Do it again?”
EIGHT
Debbie
As the last crimson sliver of the sun sank behind the delicate spires of the castle, Debbie hoped the wedding party would finally, finally be over...
...and the wedding night would begin.
Just the thought sent delicious shivers through her belly—and lower down. No more virginity! And, more importantly, at last she and Victor would be one. He had such strong-looking hands. She couldn’t wait to have them all over her. And not just his hands. She’d seen that bulge in his wedding pants. She couldn’t wait to have that—
“A toast!” a wedding guest roared.
“A toast to the wedding night!” shouted another.
“A toast to the dragon’s babies!” yelled a woman.
The crowd erupted in shouts of “to babies!” “to the wedding night!” and a drunken bellow of “TO HUGE HARD HOT DRAGON COCK!” The last one was quickly stifled, to Debbie’s infinite relief. Then, as one, the crowd began to chant, “A toast! A toast! A toast!”
Victor caught Debbie’s hand and led her back to the platform they’d been married on. The Lord Chamberlain handed them each a fluted glass of delicate crystal, which Aunt Agatha filled from a bottle with a yellowed hand-written label.
The stuff she poured flowed from bottle to glass in orange-red ripples, more like a flame than a liquid. It continued roiling of its own accord in the glasses, seething and sending up wisps of smoke.
Debbie didn’t dare ask what it was, in case she was supposed to already know. The intoxicating scent that rose from it told her anyway: it was like the aroma of the forbidden fruits, but alcoholic. It made her senses reel even before she’d tasted it.
“Follow me,” said Victor softly, then raised his glass. Speaking loudly enough to be heard by the crowd, he said, “To the union of two royal lines!”
“To the union of two royal lines,” repeated Debbie, feeling mildly guilty over the lie.
Victor took a drink, and Debbie followed. The liquor burned its way down her throat, filling her mouth with a sweet tang that somehow also tasted of fire itself. When she swallowed it, her entire body flushed hot. Her need for Victor, which had been simmering just below the skin all day, became even more intense. She’d gotten damp between the legs just from standing next to him; now she was suddenly outright wet.
Victor took a shaky breath. His skin was slightly flushed, and there was a mist of sweat on his forehead. She hoped he too was thinking of ripping off clothes.
“To our children to come,” he said.
“To our children to come,” repeated Debbie.
They drank again. The sensation of heat and longing redoubled.
“To the marriage bed,” said Victor, and drained the glass.
“To the marriage bed,” said Debbie, and followed suit.
If we don’t get to that damn bed soon, I’m going to start ripping his clothes off in public. Or mine...
“Bed her!” chanted the crowd. “Bed! Bed! Bed!”
Victor swept Debbie off her feet and into his arms. She let out a squeak of surprise. Then he was marching her, veil and diamond shoes and crystal glass and all, off the platform and through the crowd. Wild cheers and shouts of “bed!” erupted all around them as Victor made his way through the garden and into the palace.
She expected him to put her down once they were inside, but he kept carrying her.
He’s so strong, she thought, dazed.
He showed no signs of tiring as he walked down the corridors and up a grand flight of marble stairs. There a pair of guards opened a set of double doors, then closed them behind him.
At last, they were in the bedroom.
Debbie only had time to take in that, though appropriately princely, it was less lavish and more masculine than the bedroom she’d slept in before, when she was suddenly tumbled on to an extremely large and soft bed.
“Finally,” she said. The word came out almost comically heartfelt.
Victor smiled. “My feeling exactly.”
There was a long, charged silence as she lay on her back looking up at him, and he stood over her. She felt as helpless to resist him as if he was that golden dragon, and she the woman held in his claws.
Except, of course, she had no desire to resist.
She could hear his breathing in the quiet room. When she remembered that she was still clutching the crystal glass and put it on a side table, it made a startlingly loud clink.
“That was forbidden fruit liquor, wasn’t it?” she asked.
Victor nodded. “It’s called dragonfire. And it’s worth its weight in gold.”
The phrase made her remember Aunt Agatha’s warning. She’d kept it to herself all this time. Maybe that was why the marriage had felt so unreal: she’d been keeping a secret from Victor, when he’d kept nothing from her.
“There’s something I should tel
l you...” Debbie began. And told him everything.
Victor looked more and more angry as she went on. When she finished, he swore. “I should never have left you alone with Aunt Agatha.”
“You couldn’t have known what she’d say.”
“I should have guessed.” Victor shook his head. “Well, she’s wrong. Princess Eugenia won’t be back. And it doesn’t matter if she does return. You are my wife. I meant what I said: if it takes giving up the throne to be with you, I will give up the throne.”
“I believe you.” And this time, at last, she did believe him.
“I’m glad you told me. Now we have nothing hanging over us. This is not a time when we should be distracted.”
She lay still and watched as, with infinite care and sensuality, he began to strip her with his long clever fingers. First he removed her veil and set it aside. Then her crown. Then, one by one as she lay trembling with desire, the roses in her hair. He followed them by the jeweled combs holding her hair in place. Freed, it tumbled around her face.
But after he removed her dainty jeweled shoes and her silk stockings, there was nothing left to remove but her gown and underclothes. Remembering her final secrets, she held up a hand to stop him. “Wait...”
He tilted his head inquiringly. “Yes?”
“You remember that I’m a virgin, right?”
“Yes, I do. All those cloddish men in Boonville, of course you wouldn’t want to share with them the treasures of your body. Don’t worry. I will do my best to make your first time everything it should be.”
Debbie bit her lip nervously. “The treasures of my body... That’s the thing, Victor. There’s something about my body that’s not something anyone would treasure. You’re going to be the first man to ever see me naked, and there’s a reason for that.”
“I cannot imagine seeing your body as anything less than beautiful.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen it yet,” she muttered. Now that the pedal was to the metal and it was too late to back out, she was terrified at the thought of letting Victor see her. Oh, sure, he’d love her anyway. But she definitely looked better in clothes than out of them.
