Nothing brilliant came to her, so she had to settle for mildness. “Yes, well, I figure I’m a step above you, as from what I’ve observed of your table manners, you don’t even know that much.”
Julian’s face flushed and his fingers tightened on her elbow until the talons pierced almost to the bone. At the same time, he angled his body so that none of the men watching from the front of the club could see the blood that had started to drip down her arm. “You need to be very careful, Cecily. People who cross me once don’t normally get a second chance. I’m being more generous with you because I respected your father and because I believe we could be very good for each other. But don’t mistake my generosity for weakness. I will not tolerate another display like the one you just put on.”
Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast, and the pain of his attack was getting to her. But she absolutely refused to back down—not now, not in front of the others and definitely not to him. Besides, her beast wouldn’t allow it. The dragon was snapping and scratching at her insides, desperate to get out and go for Julian’s throat.
She controlled it but just barely. It helped that instead of bowing her head in the sign of submission he and the others were so obviously waiting for, she simply smiled sweetly and said, “I’m sorry you feel you have the right to tell me anything, let alone threaten me. I’m going to assume you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to.”
“I haven’t forgotten anything,” he all but snarled.
“Really? Well, that’s a shame, then, because it means you really are as stupid as you look.” He had clamped his second hand around her fist, keeping her fingers closed and the money in place. Through sheer strength of will, she uncurled her fingers. As she did, she let her own talons scrape against his palm where it squeezed hers.
Julian’s eyes widened, and she continued. “You’ll do well to remember that you aren’t the only powerful dragon in this clan. Just because I’ve been content to sit back and let the
Conseil
muck around for the past five months doesn’t mean that I am weak.”
She let the money flutter to the ground, then watched as the early autumn wind caught it and blew it away. “Perhaps it’s time I remind you of just how strong I am.”
With that, she wrenched her arm out of his grip, ignoring the tearing she felt. Knowing he wouldn’t let her go easily—and knowing that a show of strength from her was more necessary now that she stood there bleeding than it had ever been before—she started to change.
There were at least twenty pairs of eyes on her—twenty pairs of male eyes, at that—so she didn’t bother to strip. While nudity was fairly common in the shifter world, by necessity, the absolute last thing she wanted at that moment was for Julian and the rest of the
Conseil
to get an eyeful of her bleeding, naked human form. The last thing she wanted to do was to flaunt the fact that she was female.
So instead, she let the clothes simply rip away as she shifted. Normally it took even the most accomplished shifters at least a few minutes to go from human to dragon or back again, but that had never been a problem for her. From the time she had first learned to change, she had been able to do it quickly. Like, a-few-seconds quickly. Like, blink-of-an-eye quickly.
It was not a talent she had ever bragged about—or one she’d let anyone but Gage ever see—but it was a talent she now used ruthlessly to her advantage.
Throwing every ounce of power she had behind the change, she grew talons and a tail.
Her skin turned purple and became thick and scaly.
Her head grew, her nose and mouth elongating.
Her belly turned hard as her legs and arms grew in length and width.
Her clothes split at the seams, fell to the ground in a forgotten heap.
The entire transformation took less than fifteen seconds, and though the pain of it lashed through her like hellfire, she ignored it. Pain was a small price to pay for the freedom to be a dragon so quickly. Conscious of the men getting closer, their murmurs louder, she launched herself straight up into the sky. It was another show of dominance and power, as most dragons, including her father’s
factionnaires
, required a running start to fly.
And then she was soaring through the skies, leaving the ugly meeting and the condemnation of her father’s
Conseil
far behind. At least for a little while. She knew running wasn’t the answer—it couldn’t be—but right then she felt so uncivilized, so raw, that the only help for it was hanging in her dragon’s skin for a while. Somehow the beast always helped her put things in perspective. Not to mention the fact that it was about a million times braver than she was, and after spending the last few minutes going head-to-head with Julian, she could use the comfort.
She drew from that strength now, gave her beast its turn to spin and flip and somersault through the air. She cloaked herself, making herself invisible, as all dragons could, while she zoomed above the Black Hills that had made South Dakota so famous.
Her dragon shuddered in delight, exulting in the freedom to flex its talons and exercise its wings. Before today, it had been far too long since she’d let herself shift, far too long since she’d given herself permission to do anything else but be the sweet, dutiful, and
useless
princess she had been raised to be.
It felt good to shake off that persona. Really good. And as she spiraled lower, she reveled in her ability to be—even for a little while—the woman she had always wished to be. Flying low, she sped across the pine-covered mountains, soaking in the delightful smell and feel of the place she had called home for her entire life.
The air rushed by her face, and she sucked it inside her, tasted it—and the liberty that came with its freshness—with a joy she had no desire to deny or hide. Not here and not now.
But even as her beast delighted in the magnificence of the ride, she knew deep inside that her headlong flight couldn’t last. She had things to do, responsibilities back at home. And while part of her longed for nothing more than to fly away from the oppressive life she’d always led, another part of her, the part that had been raised royal, understood that she would never have that option. Now that her father and brother were dead, the Wyvernmoons were her people, her responsibility. And no matter how fractious they were, she couldn’t leave them to fend for themselves, especially under Julian’s obnoxious, perilous and self-serving leadership.
It killed her that her father had really wanted her to marry that man. Julian was dark and dangerous, and while neither of those things bothered her particularly—show her a dragon who wasn’t—he also had a mean streak a mile wide. And that she just couldn’t tolerate.
She didn’t think her father had ever seen it, though. Julian only messed with people he considered weaker than himself. Besides, she wasn’t sure Silus would have cared even if he had been aware of Julian’s proclivities. It wasn’t like her father had been known for his kind heart and pleasant personality.
A spurt of guilt assailed her at the thought, ruining the last bit of pleasure she’d been taking in her flight. Her father was dead, murdered by the new Dragonstar queen, and Cecily had never been one to talk ill of the dead. At the same time, though, she’d never been a hypocrite. While she had loved her father very much, she hadn’t been blind to his faults. Silus had been arrogant in the extreme, diabolical and, more often than not, amoral.
But he’d still been her father. And, for the most part, he’d been a hell of a king to the Wyvernmoons. She might not have agreed with everything he’d done or every decision he had made, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t had the clan’s best interests at heart through it all. He had just gone about it differently than she would have.
Not that anyone had ever asked her. Then again, why would they? She might be a member of the royal family, but she was also a woman and in some ways—many ways—the Wyvernmoons were a clan stuck hundreds of years in the past.
It was why her father had wanted her to marry Julian, after all. Or at least one of the reasons. Julian’s family had provided
factionnaires
and
Conseil
members for the royal family for millennia. They were one of the richest, most powerful families in the clan, and they were probably the only family with strong enough magic to wrest the throne away from the Fourniers by force, if they put their minds to it. Oh, it had been a long time since they’d tried—at least four or five hundred years—but her father had had a long memory. And while he ruled with an iron fist, in the years before his death, his sovereignty had been called into question more than once. The last thing he’d wanted was a challenge from Julian’s family, so in exchange for their loyalty, he had promised her to Julian.
It had nearly killed her when she’d found out what he’d done, and for the first time in her life, she’d contemplated leaving the compound. Leaving the clan. Her whole life, she had longed to be useful, longed to have some sort of responsibility, the way Jacob had. To have some sort of role to play that would help her clan in a meaningful way.
But when she’d been confronted with what her role was to be—marriage to a man she despised—she’d balked. Hugely. Had refused to even consider it. Her father had been furious, and she’d felt the considerable force of his wrath. She hated that her father was dead; hated more that he had died while they’d been completely at odds. The fact that she’d never have a chance to make things up with him haunted her.
Shuddering at the hard truth, Cecily dropped lower and lower until her feet were on the ground. She winced when her sore front leg touched down, annoyed that Julian had managed to injure her arm so severely that a shift to dragon had not alleviated the wound.
How could he possibly think that bullying me is going to get him what he wants?
she wondered furiously as she tested the leg’s ability to bear weight. All he’d done was piss her off to the point that she could barely see straight. But, then again, Julian had watched her interact with her father for half a century, knew that intimidation was Silus’s favorite weapon to wield against her. What he hadn’t understood was that just because she’d bowed to her father didn’t mean she would ever do it for another man, and certainly not one as horrific as Julian was turning out to be.
Cecily shifted back to human form so she could get a better look at the damage done to her elbow. What she saw made her curse. The bleeding had stopped, thanks to her first shift, but the skin was pretty torn up—as was the muscle beneath it. Though she healed quickly, she figured it would be a day or two before the arm was back to normal, especially if she didn’t get to Simone, the Wyvernmoon healer.
She knew that was exactly what she should do—head back to the compound and let Simone look at her arm. But she wasn’t ready to go back there yet, didn’t want word of how Julian had savaged her to get around the clan. That she’d let him do it would be just one more strike against her.
Confused, annoyed and in pain, she headed across the clearing for her favorite tree. This spot atop the highest of the Black Hills was
her
spot, and she’d been coming here for years to think or just to escape the darkness of her father’s house. In the past few years, she’d come so often that she’d hidden a secret stash of clothes inside one of the trees.
It made things easier for her, especially now, when the last thing she wanted to do was land naked in the middle of the Wyvernmoon compound. She didn’t think anyone would harm her, but without a father and a brother, the protection of her station extended only so far, especially with the higher-ranked families in the clan. She hated it, hated that she no longer felt safe in the only home she had ever known, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to change it. At least not until she had amassed enough power as queen that they would be afraid to take her on, or until she finally decided on a husband.
The fact that she was now considering getting married only made her regret harder to bear.
And yet it might be worth it,
she thought for the first time. Might be worth it still to accede to her father’s wishes, though everything inside of her rebelled at the thought. Ambition was too rampant among the dragons, and letting them continue to compete for the title basically meant declaring open season, and she couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that. Most everyone knew of her father’s plans to marry her off to Julian, though. If she chose him, if she married him, the infighting would stop. Julian was one of the strongest dragons in the clan, no doubt about it. If she elevated him to royalty, the clan might finally have a chance to heal, even as it doomed her to life with a sadistic asshole.
But isn’t that the price of royalty?
she mused. The price for all the riches and respect and perks that came with being a member of the ruling family? The absolute determination to do what was right for your people, despite the personal cost. And in this case, the personal cost would be almost unbearable. She had no doubt that marriage to Julian would leave her broken, no matter how hard she fought to stay whole.
Absently, she reached into the knotty hole in the huge spruce tree where she always kept a change of clothes in a waterproof backpack. Her hand met nothing but air. Frowning, she reached for a branch and hoisted herself up so she could peer inside the opening, in case she had somehow shoved the bag farther back than usual the last time.
But no, there was nothing there. She glanced around at the landscape, made sure she had the right tree. She did. So where the hell was her backpack?
She shoved her hand deeper into the tree. Had one of the animals run off with it? The idea seemed more than strange. What would a squirrel or even a bobcat want with her old backpack? But she had a hard time coming up with another alternative. She was high enough in the Black Hills that few tourists ever came here, and she’d made sure to hide the backpack far enough off the ground that the few who did wander this way would never find it.