“Whoa, dragons!” someone says. A familiar someone.
My head jerks to where I spot two figures. Arthur and Tesson. Tesson stands tall and muscular. His dark eyes are locked on me. His dark hair is combed into perfection, even though his clothes are dusty. There’s anger and possessiveness in his eyes, neither of which I like, so I look at Arthur, and my heart melts. My best friend’s dirty blond hair is more brown than gold, stained with dirt. He’s wearing his leather traveling clothes, which look as dirty and worn as his hair. But beneath all of that, his look of wonder as he stares at the dragons changes to a grin as his dark eyes fall on me.
“Arthur!” I shout.
Racing away from the princes, I run to my best friend and jump on him. He shouts my name as he spins me around, then pulls into a bone-crushing hug. Tears sting my eyes, and I clench him just as hard. It all kind of hits me at once. How much I’ve missed him. How much I’ve missed my family. I’ve spent my whole life surrounded by love, and I’ve been without it for what feels like forever.
We pull back from each other, and Arthur cups my face, grinning. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, and how very annoying you’ve been, even from far away. Everyone is constantly asking me questions about the Great Female Dragon Rider, and I’ve been making up weird shit to get them to leave me alone.”
I laugh. “I missed you too.”
“What about me?” Tesson asks, angrily.
I don’t even look at him. “What are you doing here?”
“A better question is, who the fuck are you?” Prince Gareth asks, his voice low, even, and dangerous.
I tuck myself under Arthur’s arm, holding onto him. I never want to let him go. “This is Arthur.”
“Arthur.” Prince Gareth says his name like he’s memorizing it.
Prince Alaric looks between Arthur and I, something guarded in his eyes. “You know each other?”
“Yes,” I tell him simply, then grin at Arthur. “I have so much to tell you. So much to show you.”
He pulls me back into his arms for a hug. “Gods, I’ve missed you, Buttercup.”
8
Alaric
I don’t knowwhat’s happening, but this moment feels like a bad dream. This afternoon was easily one of the best times in my life. Relaxing, fun, and happy are hardly words I’d use to describe my life, but that’s exactly what today was for me. Sometimes I honestly just wanted to touch my face to see if I was really smiling. I think I actually did a few times. It was just… magic.
Being withherwas magical.
Since I was a boy, I had this recurring dream of meeting my mother. All I knew about her is that she was a woman that my father promised the world to, but when she got pregnant, he refused to marry her. Ashamed, she remained at court long enough to give birth to me, and then she left me here and ran home, her reputation in ruins. Any chance at marrying another man, or men, was gone. My father, and everyone at court, had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me.
And yet, the dreams never stopped.
I’d picture her having brown hair, the same shade as my own, and my deep brown eyes. I’d see her smiling, laughing, and picking me up and twirling me around as a child. Or, other times, I’d be a man, but she’d pull me into her arms and hug me, and I wouldn’t feel so alone any longer. She would be a soft place I could go. A safe place that I could just… be me.
Today, being with Harper, felt like that dream. Like I was in a safe, warm place. Only, different. Not motherly. Something I couldn’t quite place.
I never spoke about my feelings towards my mother. Never said the things aloud that clawed at my soul. But I said some of those things today. Maybe it’s pathetic, but I’ve never felt closer to anyone than I did to Harper.
And now… now she’s in the arms of another man, and it makes my gut churn. It makes me want to scream, to break things, to demand she get as far from the man as possible. What’s more, I know in my heart that this is her fiancé, a man who earned her heart. Not one who was given her hand because of dragons and myths. And… it makes me sick.
“I’m Prince Alaric,” I manage, extending my hand, even though the last thing I want to do is touch this man.
This Arthur smiles at me, and I notice that he’s a good-looking fellow. “Arthur.”
We shake hands, but he keeps his other arm wrapped around Harper. Like she’s his. Like the crook of his arm is a place for her. A place she’s missed.
“I’m Prince Lucien,” my brother says, and his brow twitches.
They shake hands, but I could cut the tension with a knife. As much as Lucien says otherwise, he’s obsessed with Harper, the same way we both are. I haven’t seen him take a woman to his bed since she came here. Instead, he watches her like a hawk, denying he wants her, even while never taking his eyes off of her.
“Prince Gareth,” my other brother says, and his words are an inch from a threat.
