He sucked in a sharp breath at the eerie voice that disappeared as quickly as it had come. His eyes flew open, and he frantically searched the papers in his hand, setting aside the first one with the name and scanning the rest.
Thank the gods. Only one Clover on the list—and she lived in the Desert Kingdom. He would’ve had to rely solely on Alice and Charlotte if she’d been in another kingdom.
“It’s her,” he said, pointing at Clover’s name on the paper. “Clover Ambrose.”
He repeated the name under his breath and rubbed at his chest, wondering when he’d feel her through their bond.
Alice smiled, her eyes shining. “That’s a beautiful name.”
He felt stupid and weak for calling something beautiful, so he said nothing, even though he secretly agreed.
“You need to keep your emotions in check as best you can,” Alice advised. “The less she feels before she knows, the better.”
Amos scrubbed a hand through his blond hair. He could do this. For his mate, he could do anything. His father didn’t protect his mother, but Amos would protect Clover. The official story was that the queen died of a mysterious illness, but he and Alice didn’t believe it. Her symptoms came on suddenly after dinner one night, consistent with stomach poisoning—only worse. The only question was why? Everyone loved his mother.
Amos grabbed the sheet of paper and coal pencil on his nightstand to jot Clover’s information down and tucked it in his pocket. He stood and bent down to slide his already packed bag out from under his bed.
“I wish you’d let me come with you,” Alice lamented.
They’d spoken about this at length. He needed to find his mate and figure out what to do with her before his fake birthday. His father’s wrath had worsened since his mother’s death, and Amos knew he’d pay dearly for disappearing for however long this would take. The last thing he needed was Alice’s death on his shoulders because even though she was as respected as a woman could be in their kingdom, his father would kill her for not alerting him to Amos’ departure.
“You can’t.” He stood to his full height, straightening his leather vest over his long-sleeved button-down shirt. Checking his dagger holster on his hip, he blew out a breath and retrieved his hat from the hook on his wall. The brim was wide and curled on the side to protect him from the blistering sun during theday. “He’ll kill you, and we both know it. It’s better if you claim ignorance.”
“You’ve had to grow up too fast,” she murmured. “No thirteen-year-old should carry this responsibility.”
A single tear tracked down her face, and Amos had to look away. “I’m to be king one day. It’s better I learn now.”
Alice stood and threw her arms around him, making him stiffen. He’d never liked hugs, but he’d allowed his mother and Alice to give them anyway.
Awkwardly patting her back, he stepped back and strode to the door. Alice swiped at a tear. “I’ll write to Charlotte and let her know we may need her help hiding Clover.”
Amos tipped his hat. “Thank you. I’ll send word when I know more.”
Alice had a box at the post on the other side of the capital so frequent letters wouldn’t be delivered to the palace. Queen Charlotte had an alias they wrote to as well so as not to draw any attention. The system had worked for his mother since she’d left Amelia in the human kingdom, and Amos prayed it would hold up until he killed his father.
It occurred to him that wherever they hid Clover, he’d have to write to her, too. He sighed. He hated writing letters.
With a last goodbye to Alice, he glamoured himself invisible and crept through the palace until he was safely out of the courtyard. His glamour could create mirages, including making others think they couldn’t see him, but it didn’t muffle sound.
Still glamoured, he made his way toward the stables, jumping back when Sasha, his father’s dragonfamiliar, landed in front of him.Familiarsand dragons were the only creatures who could see through a royal’s glamour. Knowing his father could see and hear through Sasha if he chose, Amos’ veins turned to ice.
The blood red dragon didn’t come to the capital often, opting to stay with the other dragons in their den, but since Bianca’s death, she’d been coming around more. Her reptilian eyes blinked at Amos, and he didn’t know what to do.
“Is he in there?” he whispered. Sasha shook her head, and Amos’ knees almost buckled with relief until he rememberedfamiliarsand their bonded could speak to each other with their minds. “I’m just going for a walk,” he lied.
The dragon huffed as if to say,“I’m not an idiot.”
Crap.“I—” Sasha huffed again.
He stared at the dragon, who looked at him expectantly. She’d saved him from his father not long ago. His father had started hitting him, something he never did when the queen was still alive.Familiarswere supposed to be close with their bonded, but she’d gone against the king to stop him from assaulting his son.
They’d been in the training arena and she’d been perched on the stone platform reserved for the dragons. Every royal received their bondedfamiliarat age fifteen, and every Desert royal’sfamiliarhad been a dragon. Amos couldn’t wait to meet his.
But that day, Amos had tried to help up his sparring partner, something his father viewed as weakness.“A king does not lower himself to others,”he boomed, stomping his way toward the ring. Just as he reared back, Sasha slammed onto the ground and stood behind Amos with a low growl.
His father’s eyes had glazed slightly as a silent conversation transpired between the two. When they cut the connection, he glared at Amos. “Do not let it happen again.” The king had stormed off. His father had come to his room later that night and finished what she’d interrupted.
“You tried to help me.”
