I hear his feet hit the floor, the rustling of his suit as he stands. “Then you succeeded? Why did you not tell us immediately? You are the Lord Regent, Theo. You know how greatly the desire to see you succeed extends far beyond a personal need.” He pauses, coming nearer, tone softening. “Theo. That is not all that happened between you.”
We know each other far too well to require a question from him. “Cait does know she loved me, but she remembers nothing she felt for me. That love remains lost to her, and she still lost to me, Oliver.”
“You realize, mere moments ago in our existence, had someone dared to say we’d stand here having this conversation, we’d declare them stark-raving mad.” He laughs, sharp and quiet. I do as well. “Dragons in love, marrying for such notions, concerning ourselves with romance and the hope of eternal bonds beyond those of honor and duty. We all knew the prophecy of the North Star, but can you honestly say you expected to be such a part of it any more than I?”
My brother steps around to face me, grasping me by the wrists, pulling my hands away to look me in the eyes, though I do not wish to face him. “Oliver—”
“No. Look at me,” he demands with a kind firmness. “I truly believe Cait will come back to you, brother. But should she not, we are graciously honored to be those she considers her family … and you will always be more to her, of that I am sure.”
“And that should be enough? Should she never remember me as her chosen husband and allows Dante to seal their bond, Cait will recall nothing. Then I act as what? A brother just as Claaron or Liam. It’s no secret you have the paternal role firmly taken. Do you truly believe that possible after everything she has been to me?” I jerk my hands away from him, keeping my eyes on his. “She told me never to forget she wanted me. She chose me. Why? Why would she say that? What does she know that I do not, Oliver?”
His voice falls low. “Then that is why you called me in here.”
Closing my eyes, I hang my head in sorrow. “Everything she is has long surpassed my ability to guide on whatever path she belongs. What might she see ahead that I do not? Her words were not …” I swallow hard, seeking a way to explain that which I have no desire to say. “As tenderly as they were spoken, they were words of caution, a warning of what lies ahead.”
“Have you spoken to Dante about this? What of his mother? Did she reveal anything of importance?”
“Dante? No.” He is the last person to whom I wish to reveal such unnerving conversations with Cait. “The Mother told him nothing he found of great use. She did indeed allow this, though we feared as much. However, he said his mother shared nothing he truly cared to hear and left it at that.”
“To say he personally found it of no great use or that he truly did not care to hear it does not necessarily imply it was not important, Theo.” I cross my arms over my chest, glaring at my brother, daring him to claim my closest friend might withhold something from me. “I mean no disrespect to Dante or to your relationship with him, but consider his position as well. This matter does not simply affect you, or Cait, or the Dracopraesi. In the deepest and most personal ways, Dante cannot win in this.”
With a huff, I shake my head. “She could very well become his for eternity, Oliver.”
“And to what end? So that until the sun returns us all to dust, he shall know his wife’s choice was never truly him? Caitie’s heart has only ever belonged to one, and Dante knows that is not, and never will be, him. His blood can fool her mind, her body, her memories, yet her heart, in truth, he cannot hold.” Turning away, Oliver paces a few steps across the room as he speaks and thinks. “Even if she cannot return to you, you know she chose you. She wanted you. Her true decision was to be yours. Without her memories, she still knows this to be true. This … this is yours always, this knowledge. Dante has nothing of Cait but his own desire. It may very well be that his mother told him something he did not care to hear; however, that does not mean it was not important. And Falcon quite helpfully made complaints regarding Dante spending too much time alone speaking with Cait earlier today. I do believe he shared more with her than he may have with anyone else.”
Snorting derisively at the thought, I nod. “Ah, for once, perhaps Falcon’s profoundly misguided notions regarding the entire situation with Cait may find use after all.”
“You intend to confront Dante?”
I laugh outright. “Oliver, Dante may be younger than we, but he is the most intelligent being I know. If he does not wish me to find out what he knows, I doubt gaining that information from him, old friend or not, would be a simple task. Nothing he does not intend to share is easily obtained.”
“Then you will attempt to glean the matters of their conversation from Caitie?” he questions rather dubiously.
“Do not be foolish, brother. I want her to love me, not kill me.”
“Good to know you have learned something from this entire ordeal.” Oliver grins, a small amount of tension diminishing within the room.
“For now, I have learned there may be information we do not know, information we are quite likely not to learn soon. Keep this between us, Oliver, and be mindful of any indication what may be afoot.” Returning to the desk, I pick up the single rose I managed to create without error, twirling it between my fingers.
“You fear involvement of Cait with Dante behind your back? Surely not?” He grasps my shoulder, demanding I turn to look at him again. “You cannot believe such a thing.”
“No.” I close my hand around the paper rose, wishing I could make things as real as Dante can. “I fear though Cait does not feel the love she held for me, she remembers she loved me enough to protect me, no matter the sacrifice, just as I would her.”
Chapter 13
*Claaron*
“Rawr. I do believe she’s hiding womanly curves worthy of appreciation under that sweater, Liam.” Curves, legs that just don’t stop, and luscious chocolate hair in a simple plait down her back I’d like to free, run my fingers through, releasing that scent of freesia and jasmine wafting in the light breeze as she stands on the front lawn speaking with Corrin. Liam growls. Hm. This woman just became ten times more interesting. “What does it matter to you if I enjoy the view? Who is she? Certainly not one of Corrin’s previous conquests, too high class for that.”
“Just put a lid on it, Claaron. Keep your eyes on security, matters of priority, and don’t concern yourself with Jennifer.” He glances. No. He eyes her, lingers there.
“Jennifer. Ooh, the shapely brunette has a name, a name as attractive as her ass in those jeans.” Liam’s eyes dart to me, the green intense, focused. I recognize that look, many degrees different in scale, yet the same.
His growl comes low, menacing, and I roll my eyes, telling him how seriously I take that. “One more word about her and you better start running. Consider yourself as warned as you’re gonna get.”
“I hear the distinct sound of the little green monster, Liam,” I reply, laughing quite righteously, knowing every word out of my mouth crawls under his skin, with good reason, deepening growls confirming my suspicions. “Oh, she’s the secretary. The one helping with Cait’s belongings.” I pretend to put together the pieces of the puzzle, already overhearing her tell Corrin she came from the apartment, and laugh harder. “You developed yourself a little crush on the king’s secretary while playing guard dragon for the monarchy. How quaint.”
“Quaint? Quaint. Do you think it’ll be quaint when I rip your arm off and beat you senseless with it?” He scowls, that look oh so present. I wonder if he’s quite as oblivious.
“Hm. I see. More than a crush. A lover of yours? Current or past?”
Liam’s voice falls low. “Jennifer deserves more than a lover. I’m nothing to her,” he admits, the unfaltering surety of this statement disturbing. “Even if I had … duties as the King’s Guard were too high profile. I wouldn’t risk anyone assuming she might be involved with Corrin had she been coming to see me.”
He doesn’t allow his eyes to fall o
n her for more than the briefest moment again, pretending to be distracted by Oliver’s broad green body as he flies a wide perimeter aerial security sweep. I check my watch. 0903 hours. Right on schedule to pass our position.
“And now?” I ask it in a blasé tone as if I don’t care, as if I’m growing bored with the conversation, simply talking for the sake of something to do. “Corrin won’t last any time of significance. Dante’s blood and all the drugs in the sovereignty can’t change the truth of his destiny. No longer will the monarchy exist as it does. Regardless, does it matter? You no longer belong with them.” I walk a few paces away, eyeing the tree line, still expecting an offensive move from Z, though mostly wanting to catch Liam unawares. “You fear feeling it.”
“What? Bullshit, you fucking snowflake.” He storms toward the trees, further in the direction he’s been rather aimlessly wandering, or perhaps drawn by the same sense of impending attack I feel in my bones. “You’ve never even met Jennifer before,” he mutters, running a hand through his short black hair, reminding me of Theo in that small action. “You don’t know her or anything about us.”
“There is an us. I thought you said there was no us. Now I do believe we’re making progress.”
Liam’s entire being stills. A grin spreads across my face. The cat that ate the canary. Or rather, the dragon who revealed his brother’s most treasured secret. “I did not lie.”
“Yet you didn’t exactly tell me the truth either. Did you?” Willing as he may be to sweep his feelings into the corner, hide them in the dark, I will shed light on the subject, set his little corner on fire. Light a fire under his ass if need be.
The sound of footsteps behind us halts the conversation. “Hey, guys!” Agtos lopes across the lawn toward us at an easy pace, curls of black hair flopping down into his Ray Ban-covered eyes. Sandals, blue board shorts, and … there are parrots on his unbuttoned shirt. Parrots for Goddess sake. And palm trees. Somebody give him a coconut drink with an umbrella in it, and send him on an all-expense-paid Hawaiian vacation. I’m done with him and his calling Cait ‘Little Star’.
Liam and I exchange a glance. We’re both thinking it.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in there with Cait?” I ask, knowing damned well where he should be. Liam and I organized the entire guard schedule. Our duties and responsibilities under Theo, the priority of matters relating to Cait’s Guard, always take precedence above all, regardless how much Falcon thinks we fuck around. “Surely she didn’t scare you off.”
“Heck, no.” He grins, wide and toothy. No. Of course not. Agtos believes himself to be the most likeable dragon in existence since his ‘incident’ changed him roughly one hundred eighty degrees from his previous disposition. “Clifford’s got her covered. Guess I beat ‘em one too many times at Pinochle. She got all in a mood. Said it turns out I’m a card shark when she thought I was just some beach bum hippie.” He stops telling the story right there, laughing. Hard. I clear my throat, curious what could possibly be so funny, that sort of outburst being the norm for Cait. “She threw the cards at me, told me to get my ‘hippie dragon ass’ out here and tell you she’ll be out for a walk when Jai’s done with Theo.”
Liam snorts. “Well, that’s bound to stick, Hippie Dragon.”
The expression on Agtos’s face is priceless though irritating. “Dude. I get a nickname? Awesome.”
“You have a nickname, Hippie.” Turning back to the trees, I’m sure there’s something beyond, off in the bleak darkness of their cover. “Don’t get too caught up in it.” I gather Cait is less than pleased with our former Lord Regent’s personality makeover, much like the rest of us. “Go tell that girl over there we must speak with her,” I say, gesturing toward Corrin and Jennifer.
“No prob, man.”
It comes, as I expected, the moment Agtos gets a decent distance away. “What the fuck are you playing at, Claaron? We don’t need to speak with her. You just want to get her over here and … and … and I don’t know what you’re up to, but I already warned you.” Liam seethes at the mere thought of what I might say. I love it. I do. I smirk to let him know. “You’re a bastard.”
“Biologically, none more than you. Psychologically, I’m worlds less irritating than Falcon.”
With a shrug and a growl, he concedes this indisputable fact, his expression morphing into that of a smitten schoolboy as the object of his desire approaches. “Hm … hi. … Uh …” Liam swallows then exhales, deep, jagged, nervous. Finally, he coughs. I think if dragons could break into a cold sweat, he would. I say nothing. This is entertaining. “Hey, Jen … Jennifer … how’s it going?”
She smiles. It’s coy and punctuated with the classic over-the-shoulder hair flip, speaking encyclopedic volumes of reciprocal interest. He’s daft.
“You can call me Jen, Liam.” His name slips off her tongue with a honey-thick sweetness, eyes dropping then traveling my brother with unhurried interest, seeking his eyes. “I miss seeing you.” Stupid dragon. Just as stupid as Theo. She sees right through him. Liam appears stricken by one of Dante’s lightning bolts. Her smile grows rather smirkish. “I mean, The Aire isn’t the same without you lurking around the office, keeping it safe and sound, randomly popping up at my desk for necessary security checks.”
“Speaking of lurking,” I say, offering a hand. “You haven’t yet had the pleasure.” She matches me smirk for smirk. Liam has good taste. “Claaron Graywyne, First Brother of the House of Graywyne, Second House of the Dracopraesi, Second-in-Command and eternally loyal in my service to the North Star.” I introduce myself with a formal bow, kissing her hand, pleased by Liam’s jealous growl, inaudible to her ears. “Quite disappointing we haven’t met before, Miss …”
“Anly. Jennifer Anly.” She laughs, appraising me, seeming to approve of my apparel; polished black Oxfords, black trousers, crisply starched sky blue French cuffed shirt, platinum triquerta cufflinks, and my favorite gray tweed overcoat. “Definitely disappointing. Liam failed to mention any other dragons with fashion sense rivaling Sir Oliver’s.”
“Oliver’s taste in attire pales in comparison. Wearing three-piece suits since their introduction into modern society’s concept of male style does not constitute ‘fashion sense’. I must think about what I choose to wear.” I know Oliver’s OCD nature. He could stumble into his closet and come out dressed in a tailored suit by pure accident.
“That’s all well and good and whatever, but I’ve always preferred men with a casual look.” She glances toward Liam for a fraction of a second. “A very masculine casual look: military style cargo pants, hiking boots, t-shirts. Even better if those shirts are fitted over well-defined muscles.” Jennifer doesn’t bat an eye. Liam’s jaw drops the slightest bit, looking down at his clothes, fitting her exact description, the black cargo pants, gray boots, forest green tee worn over the typical superior human form of a dragon’s body.
Tapping a finger to my chin, I take a thoughtful pause, and she snickers. “Hm. Well, should I run across anyone fitting that description, I will be sure to take his number for you and pass it along.” Wide, devious grin across my face, Liam glares, threats of a pummeling sparking from his eyes.
Jennifer snickers again. “You be sure to do that. So what did you really want me to come over here for? I’m guessing it wasn’t to discuss dragon fashion.”
“The elves.” Liam sputters the words out, trying to prevent me from saying anything further, though he did capture the gist of my ultimate goal. “Did you have any problem at the apartment? See anything unusual?”
Any humor in her expression falls away. “Not at the apartment. I kept an eye out on my way over like Theo told me to and thought everything was fine until I turned onto Evan’s road. If it weren’t for those stupid gold bands in their hair, I wouldn’t have seen him, but I guess he turned to duck behind the trees just right, and the sun shining off it caught my eye. I barely saw him, but he was definitely there.”
“I’m sure he wasn’t alone.” The subject turni
ng to matters of security, Liam in his element once again, his tone grows confident, posture self-assured. I doubt he realizes the way he moved, protectively nearing Jennifer. “After Daniella … traveling through here, coming and going. I don’t like it, Jen. It’s not safe.”
“That’s basically what Cait said.” She shifts on her feet, leaning closer to him, shoulder almost touching Liam’s chest. “I called from her place, finding out what she wanted me to pack. She’s worried too, thought I should stay once I got here. Evan said I could work from here if I need, though honestly, there’s less for me to do with Corrin gone. Cedric’s taken over all the responsibilities of monarch for now and doesn’t seem to mind burying himself under the work without help. I think that’s how he’s coping.” Jennifer glances toward Corrin; occupied with his eyes on the tree line. “Keep busy enough and maybe he won’t be able to dwell on knowing his son will die, that he can’t stop it.” She looks to Liam, to me, back to Liam, holding her eyes on him. “But I’ve worked with them for too long, know Cedric too well. No mountain of paperwork or crises of international instability could occupy his mind well enough to take away that pain.”
“No.” For a second, that look shines fiercely in his eyes. I remain quiet, hoping he has the stones to man up. Different as this may be for any of us, we are dragons. Human emotions shouldn’t be too difficult to master. “And you won’t help any by getting yourself killed either. Cedric wouldn’t stand for it.” I’ve an overwhelming urge to slap some sense into him right in front of her, and from the look on her face, I doubt she’d mind at all. Playing Cupid to Liam and Jennifer is clearly a more involved task than bringing Theo around to some sensibility with Cait.
“No. Of course, Cedric wouldn’t. I suggest you assist Jennifer in getting Cait’s belongings inside and settling her as well. If Cait planned for her to stay, I’m sure Runa has a room ready, or will quite soon.” He nods, eyes narrowed, distrusting me, before turning away toward the house, hand lightly on her lower back, guiding.