I shrug and pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I feel myself turning a telltale shade of red. I can’t bear Emmeric knowing any of my secrets. It would be just like him to announce during our next flying lesson that I’ve been staring at the dragonmaster with hearts in my eyes. May dragons rip me to pieces if Stesha ever hears that.
“Sundra, I have to go. I’ll see you later.”
I shove the cloth I was using into my pocket and hurry across the bridge and up to the castle. I lose myself in a maze of courtyards and walled gardens until I finally feel safe enough to stop and catch my breath.
Only it’s not safe because Emmeric has followed me. Now I’m completely alone with him.
The prince grasps my wrist, pulls me to face him, and backs me against a wall that’s thick with ivy. He lowers his head toward mine, and I realize with horror he’s trying to kiss me.
I quickly turn my face away. “Stop that.”
“Stop pulling away. Look at me.” He tries again.
“Emmeric, don’t.” I’m almost sobbing in fear and confusion as I struggle in his arms.
A horrible thought occurs to me. Did Mother encourage him to do this? Is this what she wants for me?
The prince pins me even harder against the ivy when I try to escape. “Why are you carrying on like this? Don’t you know that Betas are all sluts? No one cares what you do before you’re mated. You should be honored that an Alpha prince wants to fuck you.”
I’m cringing so much at his harsh, ugly words. I’m aware that Emmeric isn’t lying, and that Betas often have a succession of lovers and entanglements, especially when they’re young, but I haven’t felt ready for any of that. I’ve never even kissed anyone. I don’t really know what it means to “fuck,” but even if I did, I wouldn’t want to do it with Emmeric.
He buries his face in my hair, planting disgusting wet kisses on the side of my neck. I feel the scrape of his dragines across my throat, and I beat my fists against his chest. “Even if I had already kissed every man in Maledin, I would sooner cut out my tongue than kiss you.”
He pulls back and stares at me with both eyes wide open. I didn’t think what I said was so shocking. I didn’t even say any bad words.
“Zenevieve, your scent…”
I shove him with all my might. “Getoffme. I said I would never kiss you. Neverever.”
Emmeric stares at me for a long time with narrowed, calculating eyes. His expression grows suddenly stormy, and he shouts, “Who is it? Is it him? That white-haired prick doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve anything. The gods can’t keep favoring him like this.”
What is Emmeric talking about? My scent is nothing special, and if the gods have favored anyone, it’s Emmeric, because he’s the one who was born a prince and has known every luxury, including a family who loves him. By white-haired prick he must mean the dragonmaster. I don’t know Stesha’s whole story, but I remember the sad orphan he was, and I know he couldn’t have had an easy childhood. I’m sure that Stesha has sweated and bled for everything that he’s accomplished. My grandfather wouldn’t have taken him on as his apprentice unless he’d proved he was a hard worker who cared about dragons with every breath he took.
But it would be a waste of breath trying to explain any of this to Emmeric.
I push past him and run all the way home, and to my shame and frustration, the prince has frightened me so much that I cry with every step I take.
A few days later, I’m sitting by myself in the Great Hall eating lunch when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look to my left, but there’s no one there. When I turn back to my food, I see that someone is standing on my right. I feel a jolt of panic as I realize Prince Emmeric is looming over me.
He leans down until he’s speaking into my ear.
“Never say never,” he says coldly, and saunters off among the trestle tables.
I take a sip of silkmallow tea, but trepidation makes it taste bitter in my mouth.
4
Stesha
Ihave to delay flying lessons and all my other duties as my rut overtakes me, suddenly and powerfully, and I retreat to my apartment in the castle. My dragines ache so fiercely that I have to bite down on leather, and my knot aches no matter how many times I relieve myself and spill my seed.
A rut spent alone is a miserable thing. I have only ever spent my ruts alone. If I ever find my mate, I’m certain that taking her into my bed will be the sweetest experience I’ve ever known. Her taking me into her nest, because my mate is an Omega. A soft, dark nest, filled with her scent. So much of her scent that I grow drunk on it. Her thighs are coated with her slick, and then it’s all over me, and I’m deep inside her with my knot gripped tightly in her clenching sex. I drive myself crazy every rut imagining this unknown, unmet woman. I’m nearly twenty-five. I should have met her by now. The gods have ways of driving a fated pair together while they’re still youths. So either she’s very far away, or…
She’s dead.
I grip my head in my hands as waves of despair wash over me. Every sensation is heightened during a rut, and that includes my emotions. My fears. If my Omega is dead, then the gods continue to torment me. I don’t know how I offended them to make them hate me so. Or perhaps the gods have no hand in this at all, and life is just unfair.
Four days later, delirious with exhaustion and thirst, I stumble out onto my balcony, bare-chested and clutching a pitcher of water. I drink clumsily straight from the pitcher, water spilling down my chest. I lower it with a gasp and take a look at the dragongrounds.
