He’s just staring at me, waiting for my reaction, like his name was supposed to mean something. Like maybe I’m supposed to know who he is already, but, as Torrin so helpfully pointed out, it’s not like I get out much.
“I’m Virginia St. George,” I say, on the off chance that he didn’t know that. That he didn’t come here specifically to check out the auction tonight.
Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’s here for Celeste and got confused. But my sister might have finished her training and be a full-fledged paladin, but she’s too valuable to be allowed to marry outside the Families. So if he did come here looking to woo her or whatever, he should think again.“St. George,” he murmurs, my last name sounding beautiful in his accent. He leans close and takes a deep breath, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was savoring the way I smell.
Must be the chocolate I smeared across my chest. Boys can’t resist.
“So you’re a paladin,” he says. “With the family talent.”
“I’m a St. George, aren’t I?” He’s referring to my family’s ability to bind a dragon’s powers and keep them from working any of their evil magic. Which includes transformations. If I’d had the power, like Celeste, I could have stopped that dragon in the marketplace. As soon as I saw him start to change, I could have trapped him in human form. But I don’t have magic like she does. Not that Prince Lothar needs to know that. If my father didn’t tell him this auction was for an as-is dud, I’m not going to spill the beans.
“And you’re a . . . a prince?” I try not to sound so skeptical. It’s not that I don’t believe him. It’s just that, well, it’s unbelievable.
“It’s a small kingdom,” he says, lifting my arm and twirling me around as the music speeds up. I remember practicing twirling with my mother when I was little, because I thought it was the most amazing dance move ever invented. And yet this is the first time in my life anyone has ever twirled me in a non-practice kind of way. “In the Hawthorne Valley.”
I suck in my breath and hope that when he wraps his arm around me to pull me close for the next dance step that he doesn’t notice the slight shudder of fear that runs through me. “That’s in the middle of nowhere.” And by nowhere, I mean it’s in the middle of dragon country.
“Is that a problem?”
“You must have a lot of dragons.” My voice shakes. At least three separate clans live in that valley. Even Celeste has only been to the outskirts. “A lot of attacks.” He was starting to seem too good to be true—of course there had to be a catch. His strong arms are around me, his body so warm and so close to mine. The kinds of things that should make me feel safe. Protected. Like they do when . . .
Like when I’m with Torrin. Good old fireproof Torrin. But I’m not going to think about him.
Prince Lothar draws me close, ignoring the dance, and gazes into my eyes. His voice is dead serious when he says, “Believe me, Virginia, no one—dragon or human—gets in or out of my kingdom without my permission. No one.”
He really sounds like he means it. I nod my head, acknowledging his statement, but I don’t know how it could be true. And if it is—if he really can keep dragons from preying on his tiny, unknown kingdom in the middle of a dragon-infested valley—then what does he need me for?
He relaxes, sliding his hand to my waist to continue the dance, but I hold back.
“That’s . . .” I swallow, not sure if I should even believe him. Nobody’s security could be that good. “That’s a pretty big claim.”
“It’s not a claim. It’s the truth.”
“But . . . Dragons could look like anyone. How can you be sure?”
He grins and leans in close, whispering in my ear, “That’s a secret. But maybe I’ll get the chance to show you one day. If you come to live with me.”
A shiver runs down my back. Is he saying what I think he is? He’s really here for me, and he already has all the protection he needs from dragons, so . . . I take a step back, looking him over, watching his face for signs that this is some elaborate prank. “Who are you? Did Ravenna put you up to this? Or Justinian? Or . . .” Or anyone at this party. I should have known a handsome stranger who’s supposedly a prince and has a kingdom safe from dragons would be too good to be true.
A hurt expression tugs on his features, wrinkling his forehead and giving his mouth a sad, pouting look. “I am who I say I am. Prince Lothar, of the Hawthorne Valley.”
“Then you’re lying about your security. If you’re here tonight, it’s for one reason, and that’s that my loving father put me up for sale. You don’t know a damn thing about me except for my bloodlines, so don’t tell me that’s not why you’re here. Or why you’re pretending to be interested in me.”
“Oh, he’s not pretending.”
Both Prince Lothar and I turn to see who just spoke. There’s another guy standing there, about my age. He’s got messy black hair, with one streak dyed bright red in the front.
Recognition flashes across Prince Lothar’s face. “Amelrik,” he growls, his eyes narrowing. “I should have known. Back from the dead, I see?”
“Well, I guess you two know each other,” I mutter.
The guy with the red streak in his hair—Amelrik—looks me up and down and raises an eyebrow. He speaks with the same clipped accent as Lothar. “This is how you like them now, eh, Lothar? Soft and covered in . . .” He glances down at the stain on my chest. “Well, I hope that’s chocolate.”
Prince Lothar grabs my arm, jerking me toward him, his fingers digging into my skin.
“Hey!” I shout.
“She’s mine,” he snarls, ignoring me and speaking only to Amelrik. “I got her first. And, besides, you’re dead. Or supposed to be. I don’t know what my father was thinking, letting you go, but I’m happy to correct his mistake.”
Amelrik swallows, the muscles in his face tensing. But it only lasts a second, and then he’s smirking at Lothar, as if his threat didn’t bother him at all. “It’s going to be awfully hard to kill me if you’re dead.”
Lothar’s grip on my arm tightens. “Let me go!” I scream. I stomp on his foot as hard as I can, and I’ll admit my stomping skills might not be up to Celeste’s level or anything, but it should still hurt. Except he doesn’t even flinch, just wrenches my arm instead, dragging me even closer to him with a strength I wouldn’t have thought possible. It feels like my arm’s going to break.
People have started to notice what’s going on. There’s murmuring around us and gruff voices and Torrin shouting, “Vee!” from across the courtyard.
“You can’t kill me,” Lothar tells Amelrik, his nostrils flaring in a smug expression that makes me want to barf. I can’t believe I ever liked this guy. You know, thirty seconds ago, when I was young and naïve. I’ve matured a lot since then.“No, I can’t,” Amelrik says. “But they can. Or did you forget you were surrounded by paladins?” He reaches into his leather vest and pulls out a dagger. It happens so fast, I blink and almost miss it. There’s a flash of metal in his hand, and then he’s shoving me out of the way and plunging the dagger straight into Lothar’s chest.
2
A PIECE OF ADVICE
There’s a horrified murmur running through the crowd. Paladins shouting and surging toward us all at once. Time slows as I watch the blood flow from Lothar’s chest, soaking his clothes, his hands, the stone courtyard around him. His eyes are wide, shocked, as his life seeps out.
I feel like the whole world just turned upside down. I don’t know if I’m going to throw up or scream or huddle in a ball in the corner. I haven’t seen this much blood since my mother died.
Amelrik grabs my arm, dragging me into the crowd and away from his victim. “Listen—”
“You killed him!” I shriek. “You just freaking killed him!”
“A piece of advice.” Amelrik bends down a little so his eyes are level with mine and says, “Run.”
I twist out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me!”
He lets me go, holding up his hands and backing away. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Then he turns and hurries toward the front gate, following his own advice and shoving terrified partygoers out of his way.
I’m watching him go when there’s this horrible wet crunching sound behind me. Followed by the sound of skin ripping and tearing. Noises I haven’t heard in four and a half years. My stomach twists into a tight knot, and my blood freezes in my veins, because I know I have to turn around and look.
I hope I see a human boy, even if it means he’s bleeding to death. Because that would be better than the alternative.
But when I turn around, there is no Prince Lothar. It’s like I dreamed him up. At least, there’s no human version of him. Instead there’s a purple-scaled dragon rearing his head. I look for the wound where Amelrik stabbed him, but it’s already healed.
Amelrik knew him—he knew what he was. That’s why he told me to—
Lothar’s eyes gleam as he looks right at me. I feel like he can see through me, like in this form he knows all my secrets. How I froze when the dragon attacked my mother. How I’m freezing now.