Wyvern's Prince

by Deborah Cooke

  “You could do with some charm of your own,” she noted.

  “This is hardly the time to criticize…” The pavofel batted him to one side. Its claws were retracted, and he realized it was playing with him. He could still get hurt, but was slightly reassured that the beast didn’t mean to consume him. Maybe she knew the creature better than he did.

  Since it was her pet, that wasn’t out of the question.

  That hardly improved his mood.

  “She likes being rubbed on the stomach,” Gemma said, a tinge of impatience in her tone. “Right where the blue blends to green. Maybe you could manage to make friends while I’m busy saving our lives.”

  Make friends. With a pavofel.

  Or really, with any creature intent upon injuring him.

  While Gemma saved their lives. Venero hated that he had to admit his reliance upon his companion. He was a prince! He was supposed to save damsels in distress.

  But Gemma was doing just fine on her own.

  “I hate pavofels.”

  “So you’ve said. What do you have against them?” Gemma chuckled. “They’re beautiful and charming, and Felice is female.”

  Venero would have liked to glare at her. “They hunt.”

  “Rather well, too.”

  “Warrior or beauty, not both.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Gemma said, as if she might be mocking him.

  Felice gave a little growl and moved her paw closer. Venero met the pavofel’s brilliant gaze and swallowed his pride. Desperate times called for desperate means. He would be trapped in this bag with this creature for a while.

  Venero crept closer to Felice’s heat, well aware that he risked everything in the approach. He eased up against her belly, she hissed, but he stretched out a foot and rubbed.

  Right where the blue blended to green.

  The pavofel adjusted its position and Venero feared the worst. He retreated but Felice yowled softly, as if in invitation.

  She was just giving him better access to its stomach. She was making demands of him. Venero moved closer and rubbed again, as the pavofel lounged contentedly over the provisions.

  Venero rubbed in a gentle rhythm, right where the blue fur changed to green. It was far less than what he wanted to contribute to their success, but there wasn’t much else he could do.

  Felice stretched out, yawned, closed her eyes, and began to purr.

  * * *

  Not feminine.

  Gemma would let that comment pass for the moment, but she certainly wouldn’t forget it. She was doing all the work and taking all the risks, and the toad was criticizing her! If she hadn’t suspected that she needed his knowledge of Regalia to succeed in capturing the antidote, she might have tipped him right out of the satchel and let him fall.

  No. She wasn’t mean. She’d wait until they landed and then tip him out of the bag.

  Warrior or beauty, not both.

  That burned. How dare he imagine that because she was attractive, she couldn’t be effective, too? She could have simpered and fluttered her eyelashes at those men on the farm, and they wouldn’t be soaring across the sky on the pegasus. She was taking him where he wanted to go, but he wasn’t giving her any credit for that.

  Maybe she didn’t need the toad badly enough to put up with his comments. She’d managed to find shelter and a meal by herself, after all, as well as provisions and directions to the Citadel. He wasn’t quick to admit his secrets, that was for sure.

  Could his objective be different than he’d admitted?

  Could he be using her for his own purposes, whatever they might be?

  Could he be encouraging her to leap from the fat to the fire?

  Gemma didn’t know and she didn’t like it. She wished she had the power of the bearded man in the hut to read the thoughts of others. Then she’d know for sure what the toad had planned.

  After the initial thrill of taking flight with the pegasus—which made her feel like her old self again, and increased her determination to get her shifter powers back—she’d been wondering. She’d been told to send the horse back when she saw the watch tower. But if she could see the watch tower, surely those guards in the watch tower would be able to see her? She had to think that a black pegasus would be hard to miss.

  She shook the satchel. “How will I know when we’re getting close?” she asked. “I want to send the pegasus back before there’s any chance of it being seen.”

  “Are you following the road?” the toad asked.

  “Of course.” She refrained from rolling her eyes. Maybe being logical or following instructions weren’t feminine traits either, according to this toad. Maybe he’d rather be lost.

  Maybe she could help with that.

  “What’s beneath us now?”

  “Tilled fields. To the far left, there’s a town. It’s pretty far away, but something is glinting in the sun. Maybe the spire of a metal tower. It looks as if there are a lot of buildings clustered together there.”

  “That would be a town, then,” the toad commented. “Well done.”

  “Are you always so cranky?”

  “Only when I’m trapped in a bag with a predator that wants to eat me when I’m unable to do much about it.”

  “Rub the spot…”

  “I know, I know! Can’t you hear the noise this thing is making?”

  Gemma smiled. Felice was purring louder than she had in a while. “You must be doing it right.”

  “My life is reduced to finding the right spot to rub on a pavofel’s belly.”

  “As opposed to being at the nexus of politics and diplomacy, where a toad rightfully belongs?” Gemma asked, then caught herself. “Actually, on this planet, that might be exactly where a talking toad belongs.” She wondered again who he really was.

  Not everyone was taught Latin, after all.

  She surveyed the land before them. “There are foothills rising in the distance.”

  “And a broad river flowing before them.”

  “Have you been here before?”

  The toad seemed to hesitate before replying. “Someone brought me here once,” he admitted, and Gemma sensed a half-truth.

  “You’re pretty well traveled for a toad.”

  “I told you: I wasn’t always a toad.”

  “But of course, you won’t actually tell me anything about yourself, because you never do.”

  “Maybe I can’t,” he retorted with some annoyance.

  Maybe. If he was trying to win her sympathy and interest, he’d lost it with ‘not feminine.’ “Looks like a mill to the right, and maybe a village.”

  “Go left,” the toad said sharply. “There’s a spur that comes down from the foothills.”

  “I see it! It’s heavily forested, so we’ll fly lower and maybe not be seen.”

  “That would be better.”

  Gemma thought she detected sarcasm in his tone. She bit back a retort because she still needed his help. “So, the Citadel is at the end of the road, and this spur will hide us from view?”

  “You know that.”

  She allowed her own tone to become irritable. “But what I don’t know is how we get to the Citadel without being seen, even on foot.”

  “There’s a tunnel. Of course.”

  “Under the spur of the mountain.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, won’t anyone guarding the Citadel be guarding the tunnel, too?”

  “Of course, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad way in.”

  Another half-answer. Gemma sighed and frowned. “I suppose you’ll only tell me more when you think the time is right.”

  “Information is valuable. If I told you everything right now, you might not take me with you.”

  “Because you’re such delightful company.”

  He didn’t reply to that.

  Gemma guided the pegasus far to the left and urged it to fly close to the ground. There was a coniferous forest with very old growth that spread from the flanks of the mount
ain spur and across the land to that broad river. She rode up the side of the spur until the trees thinned, then tugged on the mane of the pegasus. It landed elegantly and shook its head, lingering only long enough for her to slip from its back and kiss the star on its brow in gratitude. Then it took flight again and turned back, heading for the warmth of a familiar stable.

  Gemma shaded her eyes to watch it fly, admiring its grace and beauty.

  At least she did until her satchel squirmed. She opened the top and Felice leaped out. The pavofel shook itself, then sat down on the path. Its tail swished.

  “Peace at last,” the toad muttered.

  Gemma ignored that comment. She slung the bag over her shoulder and surveyed the side of the mountain. “Are you going to give me any hints, or do I have to find the tunnel entrance myself?”

  The flap of the satchel was nudged open and she saw the nose of the toad. “It’s up there,” he said, and she supposed he was pointing with his injured foot. “There was a little track that came out of the last of the forest, probably used by goatherds and their flocks.”

  “Was,” Gemma echoed. She strode through the forest, eyes on the ground. “How long ago were you here?”

  “It doesn’t matter. The track will still be there.”

  “Who brought you here?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What happened to the person who brought you here?”

  “That really doesn’t matter.”

  Gemma found the track and halted. “What if I say it does?”

  “That doesn’t matter either.”

  Gemma swung the satchel around and opened it, peering down at the toad. “I don’t know who you think you are or who you were, but you’re cranky, you’re bossy, and you’re a lot of trouble. I don’t know for sure that you’re on my side, and I’m not going into the Queen’s Grotto in the Citadel without being sure that I can trust whoever goes in there with me.” She gave him a determined look. “I need to know more about you.”

  “I liked you a lot better when you were trying to charm Urbanus.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I thought for a moment that Urbanus had made a good choice of bride…”

  Gemma bristled that this toad expressed any admiration for Urbanus who had, after all, drugged her on their wedding night. “Then why did you befriend me to take you to the Citadel?”

  “Desperation, plain and simple.” The toad seemed to wince. “When you wait for opportunity as long as I have, you have to make the most of whatever comes along.”

  “Even a warrior who isn’t feminine?”

  “Even…” he began but Gemma had heard enough.

  She didn’t need his help nearly so badly as he thought she did. She reached into the bag, picked up the toad and lifted him until she was looking him in the eye. He seemed to almost be smiling, and she had the sense he was quite satisfied with his situation.

  “This is much better than that bag,” he began, but Gemma didn’t let him finish.

  “Too bad then that you didn’t take your own advice.” She could have flung him down, but she didn’t like to hurt any creature unnecessarily. Instead, she put him down on the track, and turned away. Felice looked between her and the toad, ears flicking.

  “What advice?” he croaked and took a hop toward her.

  “To make the most of whatever comes along. Insulting me is a pretty bad choice when you need my help.” Gemma waved. “See you in the Citadel, maybe.” She turned to walk briskly up the mountain track, knowing he’d never be able to catch up with her. Felice loped along behind her, matching her pace.

  “Hey!” the toad shouted and she heard him hopping behind her. “Hey! You need my help!”

  “Not badly enough to listen to you,” she retorted, striding on. “And if you need me, your manners could use some improvement.” She paused and looked back, barely able to discern him far behind her. “How’s this for demure?”

  She didn’t wait for a reply, just hiked more quickly up the side of the mountain, seeking the entry to the tunnel. Anger gave her energy and she covered ground quickly. The sky was getting darker and it would be good to find shelter before night fell. Gemma couldn’t begin to imagine what might lurk in the wilderness of Regalia.

  She felt a twinge of guilt about the toad, left to defend himself in the wilderness, but refused to turn back for him.

  Demure. That word alone was enough to make her growl.

  * * *

  Venero had to admit that speaking his mind at this particular juncture might not have been the smartest choice.

  But he’d been under duress.

  Trapped with a pavofel.

  Enchanted as a toad.

  Powerless to affect his own fate.

  Reliant upon his brother’s wife.

  Who pretty much defied his every notion of what a woman should be like, and yet, and yet, was remarkably attractive. Troublingly so, in fact. Venero couldn’t understand it, and that irked him most of all. She was a dragon shifter—well, she would be again, if she got the antidote—and she fought like Arista. She was decisive and blunt and still incredibly beautiful. She challenged his assumptions and made him glad, in a strange way, that he was cursed to be a toad, so he couldn’t make an inappropriate advance.

  Never mind that he was willingly returning to the site where everything had gone wrong in the first place. It was only natural to feel some concern in venturing close to his mother’s sanctuary—where he’d been caught in league with a traitor to the crown and had paid the price.

  Venero knew he had to accompany Gemma to Queen’s Grotto in the Citadel for the sake of the greater good, but he didn’t have to like it.

  He hopped after Gemma and admitting that traveling with her was a lot easier than journeying alone, even accounting for the pavofel.

  At least he knew where she was going. He could find the tunnel entrance, and suspected she would as well. She seemed to be quite competent, which was a good trait in a comrade.

  It might even be a good trait in a romantic partner, if he was going to need to outrun his mother and brother for the foreseeable future.

  She had also given him some of his powers back, with a touch of a fingertip. Even if they were still compromised, that was better than nothing at all.

  The conclusion from that was obvious and unwelcome. It defied everything Venero believed that a woman like Gemma could be his true love.

  He didn’t even believe in true love.

  He sighed and hopped, considering the merit of trying to cast Gemma a dream. It seemed like a bad idea, given her prejudice against MindBenders.

  He sensed that such a course of action could go badly awry.

  But Gemma would need his advice to survive the Grotto and he needed her help to break his own curse. They needed each other—but more importantly, Venero knew that he owed her an apology.

  Never mind that Gemma might perish, because he’d led her this far and she didn’t know—she couldn’t know—what was ahead.

  Venero had to catch up and make this right.

  * * *

  The cave entrance wasn’t immediately obvious, but Gemma finally found it just as the sun was sinking. It was a good thing, actually, that it was hard to find, as that meant it was less likely she’d be pursued.

  Well, except by the toad.

  She climbed the side of the mountain instead of following the long switchbacks of the path, wanting to reach shelter before darkness fell completely. Felice jumped ahead of her and finally, the darkness of an opening loomed before them. Her hands were scratched and her feet were sore. She glanced down at the long route she’d traveled and wondered, just a little, what had happened to the toad.

  If he wasn’t smart enough to cultivate alliances where necessary, she decided she shouldn’t worry about him.

  Even if she did.

  Gemma crouched at the threshold of the cave and opened the satchel. To her relief, there were a couple of candles and a flint. She
took one and lit it, then hoisted the satchel and entered the cave with caution. There was only silence from within, but without knowing its depth and dimensions, she couldn’t be sure she and Felice were alone.

  If nothing else, this might be the cave that led to the tunnel that led to the Citadel, and if so, it would be guarded at some point.

  The candlelight illuminated a space that was more like a hollow etched out of the side of the mountain. It wasn’t very deep, and wouldn’t offer much protection if the wind turned. Felice sauntered toward the back corner with a confidence about the cave that Gemma didn’t share, then disappeared. The pavofel mewed and the sound echoed.

  Gemma followed, only to discover that there was an opening in that back corner. It was only a narrow slit, but the shadows from the rocks surrounding it had disguised it from view. She peered through it, then surveyed the short and low corridor beyond. Once she stepped through, she could barely stand upright. There was a stream running in a crack in the floor along the length of the tunnel and it sloped upward.

  Maybe it wasn’t the tunnel to the Citadel.

  Felice was marching onward, her tail high.

  Gemma looked left and right, then hugged her satchel closer and followed. The tunnel turned twice then terminated with a small and low hole. The water bubbled through this hole, that crevice carved in the bottom of the opening as well. Felice, who usually disliked water, continued through the hole. The diameter of the hole was big enough that the pavofel didn’t even have to lower her tail.

  Gemma hesitated only a moment, then dropped to her hands and knees. It was difficult to carry the candle when she had to crawl through the gap—never mind avoiding the water that flowed down the middle—but she managed it.

  When she stood up in the chamber beyond, she caught her breath in astonishment at the sight before her eyes.

  She stood in a natural chamber shaped like a hemisphere. The highest point was probably twice her height and the walls were quite smooth. The rock looked to be a pinkish-gold in the light of her candle, with glimmers of crystal embedded in the stone. A pool had formed at one end of the chamber, and it emanated a refreshing chill. The water splashed a little, because it flowed down that back wall and into the pool. Beyond the pool was another narrow slit, probably offering access to more tunnels and caves.