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This is not good.
We walk inside, and though Amelie allows me to walk at her side where my rightful place is, she doesn’t reach for my hand. I don’t offer mine, and I see glances between the attendants as they witness the tension between us.
This is not good at all.
Lord Brantley leads us to his chambers, not his private ones but the ones where he conducts audiences. Technically speaking, he has no subjects as all dragons are my father’s subjects, but he does control lands, and the residents of those lands are required to seek his approval for many things.
He gestures regally to a seat in front of his throne. I try not to smile as I sit. Amelie stands next to me and traces her finger lightly over my shoulder, a very sexually charged gesture. I look up at her, and she offers me a mischievous smile, but one still filled with anger. She’s not trying to titillate me. She’s trying to remind me that I belong to her whether I like it or not.
“Your Highness,” Lord Brantley begins, “I’d like to say again how happy we are to have you. My daughter has been lonely without her betrothed.”
Amelie caresses my cheek, and I resist an urge to throw her arm off of me.
“You are here for vacation, Your Highness,” Brantley continues, “and I promise you, I will allow you time for that, but I do have some pressing matters I would like to discuss with you.”
“Of course, my Lord,” I reply.
“Can’t it wait, Daddy?” Amelie complains. “He just got here. I was hoping I could enjoy an afternoon with him at the pool.” She turns to me and adds, “I have a new swimsuit I think you’ll really appreciate.”
I smile thinly at her.
“You’ll have more than enough time to spend with your betrothed,” Lord Brantley replies. “I only need an hour of his time.”
Her face assumes a pout, and I imagine she believes the look is attractive. As I have on more than one occasion, I wonder how much of her behavior is a carefully considered performance and how much reflects her actual feelings and personality. I find it difficult to avoid cynicism when thinking about her. There is awkward silence that either reflects her rebellion to her father’s will or is intended to make me believe she’s rebelling. Finally, she sighs heavily and says, “Don’t be long,” in a childish voice.
Born into royalty, I can’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve rebelled against the constraints placed on my life. However, I can say without any hesitation that the rebellion is always internal and not expressed to anyone except, perhaps, my father when the two of us are alone. Taught from an early age the tenuous nature of the peace (and, as I understand it, my grandfather and great-grandfather, too, were taught that fact, meaning the peace has always been tenuous), I may choose to be unhappy about my lot in life but I may not choose to dismiss it.
I say that like a good prince. I can tell you, though, that if there are any circumstances that will make me rebel openly and outwardly at my father’s direction, it is this right here, this joining of the Vipera family to the Brantley family and the idea that my mate will be this scheming (or vacuous) offspring to this misguided (or evil) dragon.
She leaves and Brantley says without hesitation. “You must give up your human woman.”
I sigh. “I will not.”
“If you do not, the betrothal is broken.”
“I see,” I say, “Lord Brantley, I thank you. I didn’t want to spend six weeks away from Red Aerie and now, I need not. Give Amelie my regards and my regrets that our marriage will not proceed as planned.”
I turn to walk away and he snarls, “You insolent fool! You would risk the fate of dragon kind over a human cunt!”
I turn around and he blanches from the sight of my face. “Lord Brantley,” I say, “You have already been warned about how you address me. I am my father’s son, and you are fortunate that he has taught me patience and mercy. I am, however, inexperienced in the art of mercy and I will therefore suggest to you that you close your mouth and keep it closed until I am gone.”
I learn that Amelie remains in the room, hidden in an alcove, too late to prevent what happens next.
ChapterSeventeen
Transformation
Brooke
The idea seems simple and obvious. In fact, it seems so simple that for a moment, I can’t focus on it. It seems to me almost as though the answer is somehow outside of my grasp or, for that matter, outside of anyone’s grasp. The more I try to think about it, the more it eludes me until suddenly it’s gone for good. There’s nothing for it but to just stop thinking about it and wait for it to come back to me on its own.
But I know it to be true. I know it to be true and before I think of my behavior or the consequences, I am on my way to Aiden’s house. Perhaps I receive looks from the others at Red Aerie. I don’t know. My mind is consumed with a singleness of purpose that I cannot dismiss. I must have confirmation. I slide my hand into my pocket. The object that means more to me than any other object is both reassuring to the touch and saddening because I know I will lose it.
I rap on the door and soon Petyr opens it. “Miss Fischer,” he says with a smile, “While I’m happy to bring your meals to the parlor, I’m afraid you will wait for many weeks before Prince Aiden will arrive.”
“I must see Valentia, Petyr,” I say.
His expression betrays surprise and it is fair to say that this is the very first time I see such an expression on his face. “I do not think that is a wise idea, Miss Fischer,” he says.
