“Oh, it’s just beginning to make the rounds—the castle folk have been trying to keep it quiet, but of course they can’t keep such a secret locked away forever.” The girl lowered her voice conspiratorially. “The word is that Prince Arolas lost his mind last night. He heard that Dragonfell has been stalling on the negotiations, and in a fury, he took a sword to the dragon prince they have as ahostage.”
“A sword?” Lucyan demanded. “What are you saying? That the prince stabbed him?” Fire began to build in his chest, and he had to dampen his anger—the last thing he needed was for smoke to start billowing out of his nose. That would blow his cover forcertain.
“Well, it’s not clear what happened,” the girl said, a troubled look on her face. “Some say he was stabbed in the chest, others say his legs were chopped off, and one person even said that Prince Arolas used a knife to peel the skin off the dragon prince’s face.” She shuddered. “I know the dragons are the enemy, but I can’t help feeling pity for him. No one knows if he even survived theassault.”
“Excuse me,” Lucyan said, barely able to choke out the words. He briskly strode away, ignoring the tinkerer as he called after him. The fire was burning hot and bright in his chest now; if Lucyan stayed to hear the rest of what the girl had to say, he would lose itcompletely.
How is this possible?he fumed, storming up the hill toward the castle without being consciously aware of where his feet were taking him. The other pedestrians took one good look at his face and crossed to the opposite side of the street. The elves had promised that his brother and mate were to be treated like guests and that no harm would come to them. Rage boiled his blood, and his tendons stretched with the beginnings of the change. He wanted to shift right now and launch himself at the castle so he could burn those treacherous elves to a crisp with the fire blazing insidehim.
But he could not do that, for the same reason that he could not practice flying in broad daylight. If there was a chance the guards were wielding the stupid warlock magic that had brought down so many of his sisters, he couldn’t risk an assault on the castle. So Lucyan forced himself to take deep breaths until his heart slowed to a manageable level, his mind no longer quite so clouded by anger andgrief.
What if Alistair wasn’t dead? After all, these were just rumors, and dragons were notoriously difficult to kill. If Arolas had indeed stabbed him with a sword, Alistair was no doubt in bad shape—the anti-dragon spell would prevent him from healing. But he could still be alive, and if he was hanging on, even by a thread, Lucyan needed to helphim.
Mind made up, Lucyan asked for directions to the nearest apothecary and tailor. Armed with a handful of coins, he bought a dark coat, tinted spectacles, a hat, a large leather bag, and a number of potions, poultices, and bandages. On its own, the disguise would hardly be sufficient, but coupled with the illusion charm, Lucyan managed to pass itoff.
“Excuse me,” he said, approaching the castle gate. The guards turned to look at him, their gazes wary—Lucyan imagined the entire staff was a bit shook up after hearing their general had lost his marbles. He hoped Arolas had at least been taken to task by the High King, though with Lucyan’s luck lately, he wasn’t holding hisbreath.
“I’m sorry, but no humans are allowed through the gates, by order of the king,” the guardsaid.
“What about a dragon doctor?” Lucyan asked, straightening to his full height and doing his best to look self-important. “I’m Doctor Otho Harrigan. I’ve heard that you have an injured dragon within these walls, and I’ve come to offer my services. Unless your king doesn’t mind if a political hostage dies on hiswatch?”
The guards exchanged glances. “What do you mean, you’re a dragon doctor?” the second guard asked suspiciously. “I’ve never heard of such athing.”
“I spent a good five years of my life serving at the pleasure of Dragonfell’s royal family before I packed up and moved here,” Lucyan said proudly. “You wouldn’t believe how many cases of scale rot I’ve had to treat, amongst other issues. If the prince is truly ailing, I may be able to helphim.”
“How do we know you’re not a Dragonfell spy sent here to break the dragonsout?”
Lucyan snorted. “Do I look like I’m capable of such antics?” he asked, holding his bag open for the guards to inspect. “There are no weapons in here—only healing potions and supplies. Check my pockets if you wish—I have nothing tohide.”
The guards did, patting him down thoroughly, but all they found was the amulet and the charm, which looked like simple jewelry. “Wait here,” the first guard said, leading Lucyan into the guardhouse just inside the gate. “We’ll speak to the steward and see if your services areneeded.”
Lucyan settled into a chair to wait. He did his best to look bored, though inside, he was filled with nervous excitement. The plan was working thus far—he hadn’t been turned away yet! With any luck, the elves would agree to let him see Alistair. If Lucyan could get the amulet around his neck, Alistair might just be able to heal himself if he was given enoughtime.
Then again,Lucyan thought darkly,the elves might not want to help my brother.If they suspected that Dragonfell would not be able to pay the ransom, there was no reason to keep Alistair alive, or Dareena, for that matter. Fear coursed through him, turning his skin cold despite the warm weather. Gods, he hoped that scouting party would find his father’s lair soon so they could recover the treasure. Alistair would be a devastating loss, but Lucyan didn’t think he would be able to stand it if anything happened to Dareena. He and his brothers had a responsibility to protect the kingdom and clean up after their father, but Dareena was blameless in all of this. She did not deserve to be cooped up in a foreign castle and treated like a prisoner, and if she died, Lucyan didn’t think he would be able to live withhimself.
The door to the guardhouse opened, and Lucyan sat up straighter as the guard from earlier came in. “Come, Doctor Harrigan,” he said briskly. “The Princess Basilla would like to meetyou.”
“Of course.” Lucyan got to his feet and hid the triumphant smile threatening to curve his mouth. He followed the guard through a side entrance into the castle, up two flights of stairs, and into an elegant office appointed in shades of pale pink andgold.
“Princess Basilla,” the guard said. “This is Doctor Otho Harrigan, the man I told youabout.”
“Princess.” Lucyan bowed deeply. “At yourservice.”
“Thank you,” Princess Basilla said. She was seated behind a white desk—a stunning woman, Lucyan observed with some detachment, with long, shining chestnut hair, a beautiful face, and green eyes disturbingly similar to Dareena’s. “Please, Doctor, have aseat.”
Lucyan did. “So, it is true that there is an ill dragon here?” he asked. “The rumors seemed outlandish, but when I heard, I knew I had to come and offer myservices.”
Princess Basilla nodded. “My fool of a brother lost his temper last night and decided to take it out on one of our hostages,” she said, the skin around her mouth tightening with displeasure. “He has lost an arm, and is doing very poorly rightnow.”
Rage flared up in Lucyan again, and he squashed it quickly before it could show on his face. “Is the arm the only injury the prince suffers?” heasked.
“Injury, yes,” Princess Basilla said. “But the anti-dragon spell has also affected his health. I believe he would recover on his own if not for the magic, but there is nothing I can do about that save for sending him back to his own country. And that, the king will notallow.”
“Of course,” Lucyan murmured, noting the pity in Basilla’s eyes. So she was more like her younger brother, Ryolas, he mused, though that did not necessarily mean she was sympathetic to all dragons. “The spell will hamper my work, but I mixed up some potions specially formulated for dragons. They should help boost hishealing.”
“Excellent.” Princess Basilla rose from her chair. “Let’s get you to him, then. I fear the prince may be dying, so there is no time towaste.”
24
