“Leopold?” There’s a robe next to the portal. Because the ancestral knows I won’t have bothered to change at the Crest Wing portal. It’s not necessary this time of year. The blustering winds around the mountain keep aren’t worth the effort of shifting at the edge of the portal.
There’s a push at my skin. “Leopold?” I tighten the belt of my robe and march down the hallway.
“Sir?”
“Where is she?” My voice echoes around the atrium.
“She’s not here,” Leopold says, his light crystal-green eyes piercing through me.
The mark down my spine itches. It never itches.
I’m about to growl at Leopold when Evander clears his throat behind me. “I’m waiting too.” He holds up a glass of Dragon Ale for me. “Come on, prince. Let’s have a drink.”
My eyes flick to the glass, then to Evander. The shimmer of brown liquid has gotten him through too many candidates. Too much back and forth. I’m done. She’s got to be the one. Why else would my mark itch? “I’m good. I need to shower. Forgive me, Leopold. I shouldn’t raise my voice. Where is she?”
“Roark took her to Zurich. The men were here today to install the cabinets.”
“Good.” I breathe in, searching for the faint lingering scent of thyme and chamomile. I page through my memories. Have I ever cared about another male being around a candidate as much as Raine? Yes, no. It’s been too long, too many women to count, too many years. “I’m showering.” I pivot and head up the stairs.
But Evander’s steps thud behind me, bouncing and thudding as if he was in his scales. I open the door to my suite, leaving it open behind me. I drop the robe and march through the sitting room into the en suite bath. I flick the water on to scalding and step in. The water tries in futility to wash away the stress and dust of Crest Wing. If I could stay on Earth and never go back there again, would I? Some days, yes. Most not. My dragon craves the power from our realm.
I rest my head against the marble wall.
“That bad?” Evander sits on the corner of the sink, his empty glass clinking to the stone counter next to him.
“My parents.”
He nods. Because this isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation, and it won’t be the last, I’m sure. “Could be worse. Your parents could be like mine.”
“What, supporting and funny?”
“That’s your take. But I guess that’s one way of looking at them. They’d have made shit royals, though.”
“I’m not sure that’s even the problem with them. They could have just asked?—”
“Kieren? They did ask about ten years ago. Or did you forget? It was after we were taking a break from candidates. They asked to throw a selection ball.”
I straighten. “They weren’t being serious.”
“Maybe not your dad. But your mum was. The queen’s had enough of this. We have to.”
“Raine might?—”
“She might be. My mark aches when she’s not around. But I’ve heard that can happen when you make a decision to stop with candidates. You start grasping at straws.”
“You think Raine is a straw?”
“She’s a damn fine straw if she is one. Fuck, if she wasn’t human, I’d say forget the fates and ask her to be ours.”
I turn the shower off and grab the towel that Evander throws me out of the air. “But she is human and we can’t. Only fated thunder mates can enter the realm if they’re not dragons.”
“Yes.” He tips back his empty glass. “So we don’t go to the realm.”
My dragon pushes at my skin. The prick likes the power surge we get in the realm.
“Yeah, my beast thinks that’s a shitty idea too.” Evander sets the glass down on the counter again. “But you know what’s an even shittier idea?”
“A selection ball,” I say and finish drying myself off. I put on a suit. I have no idea what time it is here. The time shift requires a formula and a bit of calculus to predict it. Two things I’m not using when I can look out the window.
