Wyvern's Prince (The Dragons of Incendium Book 2) (7 page)

He’d never liked pavofels, but this one, he hated with particular vigor.

It prowled around the chest and he had more than one heart-stopping glimpse of its bright eyes as it bent to peer into the shadows. Wretched beast.

Finally, it abandoned the hunt and returned to its mistress’ side.

Venero peeked out but the pavofel was on the bed, watching him. The ends of its tail flicked, those eyes in the fur seeming to stare at him, too. Venero eased back into the protective shadows, hoping the princess awakened in the morning.

His first chance of escape in years couldn’t be lost as quickly as this.

Could it?

* * *

Gemma awakened with a foul taste in her mouth. Her head was pounding. She was sleeping on her back, like a trusting child, not the warrior she knew herself to be. She sat up in a hurry, feeling vulnerable. She was still in the bridal chamber but she was alone. Even Felice was gone from the bed.

Where was Urbanus?

What had he done before he left?

Gemma didn’t feel any different and couldn’t smell any indication in the bed linens that Urbanus had consummated their marriage while she was drugged and out cold. She felt her eyes narrow as she surveyed the quiet room. She wouldn’t have put it past him to do such a thing. What had changed his mind? She could still smell the Seed, and its summons was a persistent hum in her blood.

The door to the adjoining chamber was closed.

It was probably locked, too.

The hue of the light indicated that the sun had risen. How long had she slept? One night or more? She realized that she could hear Felice hunting somewhere in the chamber, so she wasn’t completely alone. Gemma got quickly out of bed and checked the door to Urbanus’ chamber.

Locked. Of course. The keyhole was blocked, as if he’d left the key in it.

She pressed her ear against the wooden door.

Silence.

She smelled lantern oil and frowned. Why was it so strong? Surely Urbanus hadn’t retreated to his chamber to refill his lamps? She couldn’t imagine him doing such a menial task, much less thinking it was more important than consummating their marriage. She dropped to the floor and tried to peer under the door but the angle was wrong and the gap too small.

Gemma stood and considered her own chamber again, then noticed that the maid had brought water for her. The realization annoyed her—someone had come into her chamber and she hadn’t even noticed. That was how powerful his toxin had been. Anything could have happened and that made Gemma angry.

She flung her chemise across the chamber and washed with haste. The water was just barely warm, so it had been there for a while. Where was Urbanus? What was his plan? The worst part was that she’d been tricked by him and it was her own fault. That voice, whoever it belonged to, had warned her, and she’d
still
been enchanted. Gemma made a little growl of frustration as she scrubbed herself clean, wondering again why Urbanus had just left.

Their marriage was unconsummated, which meant, she supposed, that it could be annulled. It didn’t do anything to help her avenge Arista, though.

“Well done,” that voice declared, no longer as unfamiliar as it had been. “Didn’t I warn you to watch his hands?”

“You did,” Gemma snapped. “And I forgot.”

“It’s not entirely your fault,” the voice said. “He started to beguile you at the altar. Maybe even before.”

“How? How does he do it?”

“I don’t think I can explain.”

Gemma propped her hands on her hips and surveyed the room. “I think you should try.”

There was no response. Apparently, the owner of the voice had abandoned her.

As Gemma braided her hair, she saw Felice slip behind one of the drapes that hung on either side of the window. The fabric moved as the pavofel stalked something. Felice crouched, there was a faint scuffle as if the intended victim made a run for it, then the pavofel pounced.

Something squeaked.

Gemma was disgusted. It figured that on Regalia there were vermin in the bedchambers, even in the palaces, given what a rat her husband was.

She’d find another way to avenge Arista. Enough was enough.

The door to the corridor was still locked from the other side. Only the balcony door could be opened, probably because it was accessible only from her chamber. Gemma smiled as she stepped onto the balcony, because Urbanus had forgotten one critical detail. There was a sheer drop of considerable distance to the forest below, but that was no obstacle to Gemma in her dragon form.

The sky beckoned.

She was out of this place.

“Come on, Felice,” she said, more than ready to abandon her new husband. “Forget the mouse. It’s time to go. Goodbye, friend, whoever and wherever you are.”

There was no reply.

Felice bounded toward her, some unfortunate creature in her mouth, and Gemma summoned the shift from deep within herself. She should have been in dragon form, poised for flight, just as Felice leaped for her.

Except that nothing happened.

Felice collided with Gemma’s upper arm and fell to the ground with a mew of displeasure. Gemma couldn’t see or feel the shimmer that came before a shift. She tried again, with no better luck.

Was it because she’d been drugged?

Panic slipped through her, but Gemma was undaunted. She called imperiously to the change. She commanded her body to shift shape, willing it with all her might. This ability was her birthright and part of her nature, after all.

But still, nothing happened. She was standing nude on the balcony of Urbanus’ palace in her human form. Even her nails hadn’t changed.

What was going on?

“It won’t work,” that voice declared. “He must have planned it that way.”

“I thought he forgot my abilities.”

The voice laughed. “He doesn’t forget anything.” His laughter faded. “Well, maybe he forgot one thing.”

“What?”

“Me.”

Gemma looked around. There was no sign of the speaker. “Well, it would be easy to forget you since you don’t show yourself. Maybe you’re not even real.”

“I’m real enough,” the speaker insisted, then yelped. “Ouch!”

Felice spat out the creature she had caught, shook her head and backed away. It was small, small enough to fit in Gemma’s palm, and gray. It might have been a mouse, but it hopped. It didn’t hop well, but crookedly, as if it had been injured. Felice batted it with a paw, as Gemma bent down to look.

It was a toad.

Its front leg was bleeding, and it hobbled behind the open door to take refuge, leaving a trail of blue behind it. When Gemma moved the door, the toad was examining the damage. There was something very untoadlike about the way it looked at the limb, then tested it and surveyed it again.

“I hate pavofels,” the toad muttered, revealing the source of the voice that had given Gemma advice. Felice slipped behind the door, so sinuous that she might have been without bones. She stalked silently, eyes glittering, her intent more than clear.

Gemma scooped up her pet. Felice was too far away to strike the toad but tried anyway. “You’re a toad and you talk!”

“I talk,” the toad agreed grimly. “Take it as proof that you’re not the only one who’s enchanted.”

“So, he
did
beguile me?”

“Aren’t you sure?” the toad demanded, its tone skeptical.

Gemma bent down. “Why did he stop?”

The toad was actually many shades of silver and gray and green, and less unattractive than Gemma might have expected. Its eyes shone like amber beads and when it met her gaze, as it did in this moment, she felt as if it were almost human.

“Because I saved you,” the toad said.

Gemma laughed. She couldn’t help it. “You? Saved me?”

“And a very near thing it was, too.” The toad glared at her. “You’re welcome.”

“How did you save me?”

“By distracting Urbanus. I broke a lantern in his room, so he went back to find out who was there.”

“Did he see you?”

“No. He slipped in the oil and hit his head.”

Oh! Gemma felt herself blush. “Then I apologize. Thank you.” She straightened, suddenly aware of her nudity. It shouldn’t have mattered in front of a toad, but Gemma had a feeling that in this situation, it did. His eyes seemed to have gotten brighter. “I suppose you want a favor now, or a wish.”

His tongue flicked and he chuckled. “How about a kiss?”

Gemma was disgusted. She stalked back into the chamber and cast Felice onto the bed. She pulled her chemise over her head.

“I suppose it
is
too much to hope for.” The toad hopped after her, its tone indicating that he thought otherwise.

“It’s frogs who are saved by kisses, not toads.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Gemma straightened and turned to face the toad. She saw Felice crouching, intrigued by the toad all over again now that it was moving. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“I’m looking for help, of course.” He lifted his foot. “Would you want to be a toad?”

“Then you’re not really a toad?”

He sighed with forbearance. “Do toads talk on Incendium?”

“No, but there’s no telling what’s normal on Regalia. It is said to be a place where everyone in the royal family is a sorcerer.”

The toad cleared his throat pointedly.

“Point taken,” Gemma said. “But I can’t help you, not trapped in this chamber.”

“You wouldn’t be trapped if you’d listened to me.”

Gemma snatched up Felice just as the pavofel would have pounced on the toad. The creature protested loudly and the toad retreated, still trailing blood. “Are you hurt?”

“What do you think?”

“You don’t have to be rude.”

“And you don’t have to be stupid,” the toad replied, his irritability clear. “I thought the dragon princesses of Incendium were supposed to be smart.” It gave her a look, then glanced down at another small puddle forming on the floor. “This would be blood. Blood flows when the body is injured.
Ipso facto
, I’m hurt.”

“I didn’t know toads spoke Latin.”

“It appears that there’s a lot you don’t know.”

“You don’t have to be so cranky.”

“Don’t I? My advice was ignored by the one person who could help me, ensuring that she can’t help me after all, and now I’m being mauled by her pet. Looks like it’s true that no good deed goes unpunished.”

Gemma considered the chamber, unable to argue with that assertion. “It does, doesn’t it?” She flung Felice on the bed and the pavofel curled up, its disdain clear. “I’m sorry, and I’m sorry for Felice’s hunting, too. Is there anything I can do for your leg?”

“Probably not.”

“Will you tell me more about the spell?”

The toad puffed up, becoming almost double in size. Gemma thought it looked revolting. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Felice leaped from the bed suddenly and the toad cried out as it was seized in the pavofel’s mouth.

“Felice! NO!” Gemma cried and her pet dropped the toad, which hopped toward her a little less robustly than before.

“Thank you very much,” the toad said. “Can’t you restrain that thing?”

Felice hunkered down, eyes gleaming and tail swishing.

“That
thing
is my pet and maybe my only friend on this planet.”

“Why? Because you listen to its advice?
We
could be friends, if you made a little effort.”

Gemma took a deep breath. “Okay. You’re right and I admit it. I
am
sorry. Now, can I break the spell or does it have to wear off? How do these things work?”

“Spells can work in a hundred different ways, depending on the intention of the spell caster.”

“That doesn’t really help.”

“The question is what Urbanus defines as the greater good.” The toad hopped closer. “And whether you’re part of it, key to it, or an obstacle to it.”

“Because I can guess what he’ll do in each of those instances.”

A groan came from the other side of the door to Urbanus’ chamber, revealing his location. The toad seemed to grin, as if satisfied with her husband’s unhappy state.

“How badly is he hurt?” Gemma whispered.

“He’s not dead.” The toad sighed. “Clearly, wishes don’t always come true.”

How unexpected to have something in common with a talking toad, even if it was a dislike of her new husband.

Gemma folded her arms across her chest. “Okay. A quick introduction to spell casting, please. How do I break the spell and get my powers back?”

“With the antidote, of course.”

“Which could be anywhere or anything depending upon the intent of the spell caster.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you know where or what it is, in this case?”

“I could guess, but I’m not telling until you help
me
.”

Gemma bent down. “And here I am hoping that the antidote involves the sacrifice of a toad.”