“You owe us a night,” Flynn insisted.
“Then you’d better come to Talin.”
“This is madness.” Grayson’s face was pale, almost drawn, and he looked longingly over his shoulder, squinting in the wintry sunshine. “If we leave now, we may save our hides.”
“Gray.” Pierce’s voice was soft. “We can’t go back to Legacia. You know that. Not with what we know. We face hanging.”
“And here? We’re Legacian guards. We’ll be killed on sight.”
Haven looked up at Remy, her eyes pleading. “Please?”
“I thought you didn’t want them.”
“I don’t. That doesn’t mean I want them dead.”
He, too, sighed. “Fine. For you. They’re under my protection.”
His protection. “Who the hell are you?” I demanded.
It was Haven who answered. “The crown prince.”
Chapter
Fifty-Seven
HAVEN
We’d been riding for hours, and the creak of hard-packed snow beneath the horses’ hooves was grating on my nerves. I urged Buttercup to a trot until we came even with Zane.
He turned his head toward me, and his eyes lit up. “Haven.”
“We need to talk.”
“About?” The gravel in his voice rumbled through me, leaving heat in its wake.
I swallowed unwelcome nerves and whispered, “Dragons.”
He gave a resigned nod as if he’d been expecting this. “What would you like to know?”
I glanced behind us. No one seemed to be paying attention. “Did you hatch from an egg?”
He laughed, loud enough to draw the curious gazes of the other men. But when he answered me, his voice was low. “No. When a dragoness is pregnant, she remains in her human form until her child is born. It makes her vulnerable, which drives the father to distraction. Or destruction.”
“Are your parents still alive?”
“Yes, they’ll love you.”
“Even though I’m not a dragon.”
He smirked as if he knew something I didn’t. “Yes.”
“Do you have a treasure hoard?”
“Yes.”
“May I see it?”
“Interested in treasure?”
