Prologue

Never before had he witnessed such carnage.

A lone woman stood where the enemy army should have been, a battlefield strewn around her. Curly ringlets danced in the whirlwind. When she turned, her eyes flashed dangerously. A witch. He never imagined seeing one here. No one could have calculated this.

Cautiously, he approached the petite figure and dropped to one knee. With eyes averted, he offered the usual speech. “Oh, Great and Powerful Witch,” he said in as polite a tone as he could manage with his bone-dry throat, “we owe you a great debt for protecting our country from these invaders. How can we ever repay you for your kindness?”

The air around the woman crackled with power. It took all his courage not to flee and never return to this hellish battlefield again. One could never be sure what side a witch might be on. A friend today might be a foe tomorrow—that was the way of their independent nation.

“You are His Majesty, King Byron, are you not?” asked the woman. Her soft voice carried through the ranks.

Taken aback, he stammered, “Y-Yes,” and quietly cursed himself for the display of weakness.

“Your daughter was born today.”

His eyes widened, and his head jerked up. “A daughter, you say?”

“Yes.” The woman’s glowing eyes remained distant as she took in events far from them in the capital. “A lovely child... She will grow to be a beauty.”

He ducked his head. What did this have to do with repayment? He bit his tongue. One did not interrupt a witch, else one was likely to lose their tongue...

And only that if they were lucky.

“When she is of age, send her to Storm Bearer Peak.”

Again, his head jerked up. “Why there, Lady Witch?”

“There you will find a dragon,” she continued. “She is to be his bride.”

Byron’s mouth fell open. “Surely you jest!”

Lightning flashed in the sky, splitting the darkness in two. The boom rang in their ears. Byron bowed his head once more. “It shall be done. As repayment for your great and honorable deed, I shall send my daughter nineteen years hence to be the dragon of Storm Bearer Peak’s bride.”

King Byron would spend the better part of two decades trying to undo the ruin he brought upon his family at that moment—for how could a princess ever be expected to wed a monster?

Chapter One

Music rang through the great hall as the ensemble tuned their instruments for the first dance. Excited chatter filled the gaps between notes. Gossip mingled with congratulations for another successful year of life. Rhiannon accepted it all graciously, curtsying for this lady or that lord. Her lady-in-waiting stood at her elbow, taking the gifts on her behalf and setting them aside on a large table for the purpose. After nineteen years, this was a familiar song and dance. Smile, thank the guests for coming, accept the gift, hand it off. It was the same routine every year, and yet she still struggled with the limelight.

Being the center of attention meant attracting the bad kind as well as the good. At a function like this, there would be no escape should someone less desirable come to bother her.

So far, it had just been the nobles Rhiannon knew from before she could walk. The Lady of Linat and her husband, encrusted in their extravagant jewels, pinched her cheeks and gave her a choker featuring a ruby the size of a gold coin. Duke Trystan, her former tutor, kissed her hand and pulled a colorful box from his pocket that contained a brand-new fountain pen. Her cheeks warmed slightly from his light affection. She turned to the next guest.

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the one person whose company she would never mourn the loss of. Sir Brodrick, captain of the knights and her tormentor since childhood, strode past the line of nobles with cocky confidence and a smirk to match.

“Rhiannon!” he called as if they were bosom friends. “Congratulations on your nineteenth birthday.” He seized her hand and pressed a kiss to the back. The unwelcome gesture sent a shudder up her spine. “You’ve become even more lovely today than you were yesterday.”

“Thank you.” The smile plastered on her face only just hid the sickening twist in her gut. This man had been the bane of her existence since her father insisted they become playmates as children. Thanks to that, she knew exactly what he meant by his compliment. Yesterday, she hadn’t been considered an adult. Today, she was marriageable and thus at the perfect age to be forced into a situation she would regret.

He continued as if he hadn’t noticed her stilted response. “Might I request your first dance tonight?”

“I do believe Duke Trystan has beaten you to the punch,” she replied, casting a hopeful glance her tutor’s way. Sure, he was a good decade and a half her senior and already married, but that granted her some safety.

But alas, even he was afraid of the man who’d worked so hard to isolate her from all others. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly step between you and your dearest friend,” Duke Trystan said with a polite bow. “Please accept my apology for hogging Her Highness’s attention.”

Well, there went that escape route. Rhiannon swallowed her resigned sigh as she returned her attention to the person she least wanted to give it to. “Then I would love to dance with you, Sir Brodrick,” she lied.

“Wonderful!” Having never released her hand, he dragged her to the dance floor away from the line she was supposed to receive. The band looked at each other in confusion when Brodrick called them to strike up a tune. Dancing wasn’t to begin for a while yet. Not until after the meal.

Before they could earn his ire by making him repeat himself, Rhiannon curtsied and apologized. “It doesn’t have to be a long song,” she said. “I would just like to start the festivities a little sooner if that’s all right.”

“Of course!” The conductor quickly raised his baton and waved them into a waltz.

Brodrick seized her waist and pressed her closer against him—far past what she was comfortable with. Rhiannon’s movements lacked their usual grace with him in the lead. Her body went rigid anytime he handled her roughly, but she hid the fright with yet another pleasant smile.

“I didn’t think you would make it,” she said as he led her through the steps the way a guard might guide their prisoner to the gallows. “Weren’t you sent to take care of the manticore attacking the Western provinces?”

“’Twas a simple matter to take care of,” replied the knight with a confident smirk. “I wouldn’t miss your birthday for the world. Especially considering the announcement I understand will be made tonight. It’s quite the surprise, I hear.”

Rhiannon’s limbs stiffened. Her feet dragged on the tile for a few steps. “Oh? What sort of surprise?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

She laughed lightly, somehow keeping it from sounding forced. “You know how I hate surprises.”

“I’m rather confident that this will be a good one.”

He was always confident, particularly about things Rhiannon would be horrified by. As children, he’d always been confident judging her friends. This lad was too low in birth, that lady too stuck up. Therefore, he chased every one of them off until only he and her tutor remained. Had her father not personally selected Duke Trystan, Rhiannon doubted Brodrick would have spared the other man either. The tutor proved her only lifeline, as he was too old to be interested in a child beyond the lessons he taught her in her schoolroom, and thus not a real threat. As Brodrick grew and implemented the next phase of his plan, he sought to deny any suitor—for their own safety, of course. For, as he always told them, the dragon awaiting its bride would snap them up in its jaws in an instant. Her lady’s maids, too, were informed that if they stayed on, they might be given as wedding presents to the dragon’s family for snacks.

Brodrick had always insisted Rhiannon’s isolation was for her protection as well as theirs. He proclaimed himself the only one she could trust. Why he thought she would trust him when he regularly cornered her, she didn’t know.

One song ended, and at Brodrick’s behest, another began. Titters echoed in Rhiannon’s burning ears as guests whispered behind fans. One dance out of turn was one thing, but two? She pushed against Brodrick’s chest in a silent plea to stop. He responded by squeezing her hand and tugging her even closer. The sudden dip he forced on her made her stomach lurch in terror.

“Don’t worry about them,” he cooed. “They’re just jealous.”

If they were jealous, they could have him. She would support their pursuits wholeheartedly.

Before a third song could start, the dining hall’s doors opened to signal the beginning of dinner. Winded and dizzy, Rhiannon pushed against him once more. Unwilling to let her go, he released her only after another squeeze that forced the breath from her lungs. “Shall we, Rhiannon?”

More titters followed them off the dance floor. “What sort of relationship must they have that Sir Brodrick felt comfortable without the use of titles?” speculated the gossips.

Rhiannon hated the way Brodrick used her given name. Brodrick had begun the casual address a few years prior in private. Once, when Rhiannon had told him that he was being too forward, he’d not so subtly threatened to give her even more informal pet names in public. Mortified, she’d allowed it to continue so long as it stayed private.

“Please don’t speak to me like that in public,” she hissed, failing to extricate herself from the arm draped around her waist. “You forget yourself.”

“We’ve been close for so long. Don’t you think it’s about time we let others know of our intimate relationship?” He planted a kiss on the top of her head.

Surprised gasps sounded behind them. Her cheeks burned scarlet. Hurriedly, she tried to distance herself without success. “You assume too much, Sir Brodrick. Kindly release me.”

He held firm. No one watching would have noticed her attempts to free herself. “Now, now, no need to be so coy. Considering the nature of our relationship, it’s only natural we should be so close.”

At last Rhiannon slipped free of his grasp, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that he had let her escape for his amusement. A cat, she thought, toying with a cornered mouse.

“We do not have that sort of relationship,” she informed him. “We are nothing more than friends.” Even that description was too generous. Brodrick had never been a friend in her mind.

She made her way into the dining hall, eager to take her seat at the head table away from Brodrick. With their stations so far removed, he would sit with the knights as their captain, and she would be safely ensconced between her royal father and mother in the place of honor. She wouldn’t have to interact with him another moment once dinner began—

Her heart nearly stopped. At the head table between the throne-like chairs reserved for the king and queen, there were two seats, not one. Hers she knew, for it had been decorated with the crystalline species of sapphire roses cultivated in honor of her birthday a few years ago. The one beside it, however, was somehow grander, fit for a visiting prince. It was made of a heavy dark wood decorated with softly glowing ivy tied in lovers’ knots. Bloodred roses sprouted among the silvery vines, resembling the Brodrick family crest.

The color drained from her face. She nearly collapsed in a dead faint. Brodrick, wearing a cool, friendly smile, threaded her arm with his and placed her hand on his elbow to lead her. “A wonderful surprise,” he purred in her ear, “don’t you think?”

Anxiety gnawed at her lungs and constricted her throat. She struggled to catch her breath. This was the opposite of a wonderful surprise. If he was to sit by Rhiannon during her coming-of-age dinner, it could only mean one thing.

Brodrick waved off her concerned lady-in-waiting in favor of guiding Rhiannon to her seat himself. He kissed her hand once she was seated, letting his lips linger too long on her gloved fingers. “You’re speechless, my sweet,” he cooed. “Shall I have them fetch you something to drink?”

The affectionate pet name made her cringe. Rhiannon’s eyes darted about, searching for any escape from what was most certainly coming. “I-I feel faint,” she rasped. “I ought to lie down.”

“Nonsense. You’ll be fine with a little wine to relax you.” Brodrick accepted the bottle brought by a servant and splashed a generous portion in the crystal goblet. He then pressed it into her hands. “Drink. You’ll feel better.”

She winced and set the glass aside. The last time he had offered her anything to drink, she’d felt ill the rest of the day. She later found out that he’d placed a spell on the drink but claimed all he wanted was to warm her up in such chilly weather. “I don’t need wine,” she protested. “I need to leave.”

“But it’s your party,” he reminded her, “and His Majesty has an announcement to make. It would be strange for you to bow out now, not to mention impolite.”

It didn’t matter. Rhiannon knew she needed to leave right away. She pushed back her chair, only for Brodrick to set a firm hand on her shoulder. “No need to be nervous,” he told her with a grin. “You’ve wanted this for a long time, haven’t you? No need to let the good news jitters get to you. What would your guests say if you ran away?”

She wanted to shout at him and tell him to release her, but the words caught in her throat. The thought of what her guests would say made her knees weak. She wanted to cry, to find someplace to hide herself away, to be anywhere but here where her worst nightmare would soon come to pass.

The general chatter died down with the arrival of Rhiannon’s parents. The king and queen, radiant in their royal finery, passed down the aisle. His Majesty, King Byron, led his queen to her seat. He helped her to sink gracefully into her spot before turning to address the crowd.

“Thank you all for joining us on this joyous occasion. We have much to celebrate this evening.” He smiled warmly at Rhiannon, ignoring the way she remained pale and trembling. “My daughter, Princess Rhiannon, has come of age at last. Therefore, I would like to announce her engagement to our strongest knight, Sir Brodrick. I pray that this auspicious union will—”

At last Rhiannon found the strength to stand. She shoved back her chair and fled with a clatter. Murmurs nipped at her heels, but still her feet kept moving. She had to get away. Though weak and shaky, she ran as quickly as she could. Away from Brodrick. Away from his satisfaction at her expense. To somewhere she could hide away and never have to see him again.

A hand caught her wrist, and Rhiannon froze. Terror flooded her veins. Her pulse roared in her ears. Brodrick must have followed her. Alone in the corridor, he could do any number of things to hurt her or bend her to his will. A scream stuck in her throat as she turned back.

Her mother, the queen, had her heavy skirts gathered in one hand and grasped Rhiannon’s wrist in the other. The brief run had left them both winded, though Rhiannon’s pounding heart and anxiety left her in far worse of a state than her mother’s simple irritation.

“Rhiannon!” Queen Evelyn panted. “What’s gotten into you? It is unlike you to leave without saying anything.”

“I... I told Sir Brodrick I wasn’t feeling well,” Rhiannon replied lamely. “No one warned me. It came as a bit of a shock.” That was an understatement, but Rhiannon couldn’t tell her the truth. Brodrick was a respected knight and the kingdom’s best monster slayer. It didn’t matter what she said against him if no one would believe her. Whenever he said or did something improper while they’d been growing up, no one believed her either. They just sent her back to him, again and again. “I need to lie down.”

Queen Evelyn heaved a sigh. “Really, Rhiannon, this shouldn’t have surprised you. Sir Brodrick has been courting you since you were children—”

“I didn’t want him courting me!” Rhiannon cried. Her mother gasped at the outburst, and Rhiannon bowed her head, on the verge of both embarrassed and horrified tears. “Mother, that man frightens me. He’s only ever treated me as a...a trophy for his collection.” One earned by chasing all competition away, both romantic and platonic, until Rhiannon had no one else left.

“Rhiannon...”

The dam broke, and years of restrained emotion poured out. “I won’t marry that man,” she insisted. “I can’t. It’s bad enough that I was promised to a dragon. To be promised to...to...” Rhiannon shook her head. Her mother wouldn’t listen. Her only hope, she hated to say, was to rely on the dragon. “I have to leave soon. If I don’t, the witch—”

Her mother gently tucked a loose lock of Rhiannon’s hair behind her ear. “Sir Brodrick is an expert monster slayer. Your father has charged him with tracking and exterminating the dragon that laid claim to you first. If the dragon is no longer of this world, then that witch can hardly expect you to remain loyal to a corpse.”

A tremor ran through her. “Dragons are intelligent,” she said, remembering the few she’d seen wearing humanoid glamours to consult the king in years past. They’d been grotesque, scaly things with the head of a lizard and walking on hind legs like a dog doing tricks. When they sat on their haunches and handled documents with care in their taloned fingers, they more resembled some monster of yore than the human guise they’d attempted. They’d been horrifying, yes, but they’d been polite and spoke with eloquence. “Father can’t have Sir Brodrick murder one in cold blood!”

It wasn’t the dragon’s fault the witch had extracted such a promise. If her father had just refused her request and offered something else, then maybe she would not have found herself in this situation to begin with.

“Rhiannon, be reasonable. Your father is only concerned for your safety.”

“If he was that concerned,” Rhiannon bit out, “he would never have arranged the marriage with Sir Brodrick without consulting me first.”

Smack.

Stunned, Rhiannon touched her tender cheek.

Her mother lowered her hand. “He is only thinking of what is best for you. Sir Brodrick is the captain of the knights and has trained himself in monster extermination for your sake. Your father would be horrified to know how ungrateful you are.” Rhiannon turned away, biting her lip to stop the tears from overflowing.

Queen Evelyn sighed. “Rhiannon, perhaps it would be best if you went to your room after all. Once you’ve calmed down, you may rejoin us. This is your engagement party as well as your birthday, and everyone would be disappointed if the guest of honor weren’t there to celebrate.” She tenderly smoothed her daughter’s hair. “It will be fine. Sir Brodrick will be a good husband for you, and you’ll grow to love him in time. I promise.”

Chapter Two

Rhiannon waited until long after the party ended to make her move. When her lady-in-waiting extinguished the candle for the night and wished her pleasant dreams, Rhiannon slipped out from under the covers. She dressed herself in her careworn riding habit and boots. She packed a sparse collection of old dresses and underclothes in a basket she had once used for picnics in the years before Brodrick ran off her few friends. In the pockets of the oldest gown, she tucked the ruby choker she’d received as well as a few choice pieces that hadn’t seen the light of day in the better part of a decade. With everything carefully folded and stowed, she threw her cloak around her shoulders and slipped away into the corridor.

At every corner, she paused and listened to avoid the night watch or any servant making the rounds. The soft carpet muffled her quick footfalls as she made her way down the stairway at the end of the hall. For once, Rhiannon was thankful for Brodrick’s meddling in her life. For fear of earning Brodrick’s ire, many of the servants stayed away unless she called for them specifically. With the hallways this abandoned, sneaking out would be a simple stroll until she reached the door to her small garden.

Frost-covered grass crunched underfoot. The first sound made her flinch back into the shadow of her doorway, her pounding heart enough to drown out the still night. She waited until she could hear the quiet whisper of wind and the distant sound of guards chatting about the evening’s events. No one had heard her. She breathed a sigh of relief and kept moving.

Her first obstacle came in the form of the high wall surrounding the palace. Using the front gate was out of the question. She searched now for the small gap in the stone that had served as her hiding place in her early teenage years. If she could still fit, she could crawl through to the other side...if they hadn’t patched it yet. She hoped they hadn’t.

Rhiannon pushed back the old, dry, evergreen shrub that hid her escape route. Much to her relief, the crack remained, though she found it far smaller than she remembered. It would have to do. She pushed her basket on ahead and crawled in after.

Uneven craggy stone pressed in on all sides as she pulled herself along on her belly. A time or two, a sharp rock caught her skirt or dug into her hip. Rhiannon prayed that she wouldn’t get stuck. Only once did she truly think she’d meet her end. A grinding accompanied a shift in masonry, and pebbles rained down on her hair and back. The fear came out as a whimper, but when she wasn’t crushed, Rhiannon thanked whatever celestial being had seen fit to spare her and moved on.

The final stretch was the tightest fit of all. Rhiannon forced all the breath from her lungs and pushed hard against the mossy outer wall. For the first few seconds, she strained without success. Rhiannon braced her foot against a jagged outcrop in her hole and shoved with all her might. This time, the cold stone gave way. Her body shot out of the hole, and with her basket she tumbled down the slight incline into the frozen pond below. The ice cracked under her weight and plunged her elbow-deep into frigid muddy water. The resulting splash echoed in the night.

“What was that?” someone called from the parapet. Above her head, Rhiannon caught a glimpse of warm lantern light.

She bolted, crunching through the rest of the pond’s icy covering, and raced with her basket toward the city. Shouts licked at her heels. Rhiannon dared not obey their commands to halt. If Brodrick found out that she’d been trying to escape, he would never let her out of his sight again, regardless of what polite society would whisper about it.

Lungs burning, heart ready to burst, Rhiannon reached the buildings on the edge of the city. Her feet pounded against cobblestone as she fled down this alley and that with no final destination in mind. All she worried about were her pursuers, slow to start their chase but quick to catch up even in the twisting streets.

Rhiannon took a corner too fast and crashed into the solid chest of a man dressed in a colorful tunic. He blinked down at her in confusion, then peered through the dimly lit night toward her noisy pursuers. Without a word and with a knowing glance, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Somehow, she felt no fear as he ushered her into a shadowy doorway. He signaled for quiet, then tugged her into a warm embrace that sent her pulse stuttering. Warm, welcome lips swallowed the squeak of surprise that bubbled up. As her cheeks burned hot, he adjusted, hiding her almost entirely from view.

“Excuse me, sir!”

The man waited a second before lifting his head. “Yes?” he asked languidly, a dopey smile gracing his handsome features.

“Have you seen someone run through here?” asked the guard. “Someone about yay tall,” he gestured with his hand Rhiannon’s height, “and covered in mud?”

Her rescuer hummed thoughtfully to himself. “I don’t believe so, but then,” and again, that dopey smile returned as he glanced down fondly at Rhiannon, “I’ve been a little preoccupied with my lovely lady friend here.” The guard shot a curious look over her savior’s shoulder, until the stranger leaned over her even more, casually blocking her from view.

“Withholding information comes with consequences. You better not be hiding anything from us if you don’t want to spend the night behind bars.”

“On my honor,” he replied with a bright chortle. “I’ve been quite busy. Isn’t that right, my love?”

Rhiannon’s face burned hotter as he tucked her against his chest. Even had she been able to convince her frozen tongue to move, the men wouldn’t have been able to hear more than a muffled reply. As it was, all they got was a tiny, flustered noise of agreement.

“Well, if you see anything,” said the guard, ready to move on and leave what he saw as two lovebirds to their tryst, “be sure to report it. We suspect that a thief broke into the palace.”

“A thief you say?” the stranger drawled. “I’ll be sure to let you know if I notice anything out of the ordinary.” Then to Rhiannon, he said, “I ought to escort you home, then. I won’t be satisfied until I know you’re safely tucked back in your bed.”

While he spoke, the heavy footsteps receded. His eyes seemed to glow in the darkness as he watched the guard round the corner. Once he was sure the man was both out of sight and earshot, he released Rhiannon and stepped back.

“Sorry about that,” he said, still watching where the guard had vanished. “It was the best I could think of on such short notice... Oh, but look at you, you’re shivering!” He swiftly undid his vibrant patchwork cloak and settled it around her shoulders. Rhiannon tried to protest, but any words she might have summoned against dirtying his things were drowned out by him continuing in a teasing lilt, “Allow me to walk you home, Miss Thief.”

Rhiannon thanked the night for hiding her scarlet cheeks. “I’m not a thief,” she mumbled.

He placed an arm around her shoulder once more and led her in the opposite direction of the guard. “I see. Then while we stroll, might you share the tale of how you came to be fleeing the royal guard with this humble bard?”

Her gaze flicked up to his face, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he scanned the streets around them for any sign of her pursuers. Rhiannon licked her lips and tasted the slightest hint of wine, likely transferred during that kiss. Fire singed her cheeks and ears as she hunkered down deep into the comfort of his cloak.

“I fell into the pond near the castle,” she admitted, “and got scared when the guards spotted me. I didn’t steal anything.” The bard hummed to himself. “I swear I didn’t!”

“I don’t doubt you,” he replied. “A lady in clothes as fine as those hardly needs to steal. Only...” His eyes flashed once more with a quick glance in her direction. “I wonder about the gemstones in your basket.”

She paled. How did he know about her jewelry? “They’re mine,” she said hurriedly. “I needed funds, so I’m selling them.”

He nodded and guided her down a side street toward a little park. “I see. And once you had funds, what were you intending to do with them?”

“I need to travel through Storm Bearer Pass.”

“Might I ask why a young lady needs to go there?”

Rhiannon bit her lip. How much could she trust this man she just met? Sure, he’d rescued her, but that didn’t mean he was harmless. “My parents have engaged me to a brute of a man to foil a previous arrangement,” she explained.

“And is it safe to assume you will be meeting your previous fiancé in the pass?”

They walked beneath the bare boughs of the tree standing sentinel by the park’s entrance. “Yes...” Her shaking grip tightened on the man’s cloak. Every fiber of her being screamed against this route. Her pace slowed. The gentleman matched her.

“Do you have a room arranged for the night?” he asked. Rhiannon shook her head. He scanned the area once more and gave her a gentle nudge. “Then if I might be so bold, may I suggest spending the night with me?”

The princess froze. In the faint glow of the streetlight, his cheeks looked every bit as red as her own. “Ah, no, sorry, that came out wrong,” the bard insisted, quickly hiding the lower half of his face with a hand. “What I meant to say is...I have a room at the Royal Inn. If you are not opposed to it, you may take the bed. I would be content with the floor.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. “Why are you helping me?” No matter how she looked at this, all she could imagine was Brodrick’s usual nefarious plots to get her alone.

“Call me a sucker for a good love story,” chuckled her savior, “but your tale has struck a chord with this bard. I will do my best to help you make your journey safely.” Then, with a dramatic sweep of his arm, he added, “A young lady in the blossom of her youth fleeing her cruel fate to be with her true love is something ballads are sung about. To play a role in a tale so beautiful is a dream come true.”

Rhiannon stared at the bard in absolute disbelief. He wanted to help her so he could get a song out of it? She supposed there were stranger motivations out there. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you have the best of intentions, but it would be improper for us to travel together alone like this.”

“It’s a dangerous journey to the Storm Bearer Pass,” the bard said. “A woman traveling alone is sure to attract the attention of bandits and the like. Allow me to escort you.” He stepped away and swept into a deep bow. “I am called Taliesin, the traveling bard. I won’t be able to rest easy until I know you have arrived at your destination safe and sound.”

But would she be any safer with this perfect stranger? He’d already taken the liberty of kissing her once, even if it had been part of a ruse to throw the guard off her trail. “Pardon my rudeness but...how can I be certain you yourself won’t bring me to harm?”

Taliesin raised his head and blinked at her with the purest look of befuddlement. “You do have a point there... Hmmm...” He crossed his arms. “Ah, I know! What if I swore an oath not to allow any harm to come to you? I will swear on anything you’d like. My honor or my name or... I don’t have a sword like the knights in tales of yore...” He cast about for something suitable for the purpose. “Would my violin do in this case?”

Part of her wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. She might have but for the anxiety curdling her stomach. “I don’t...”

“What if I swore in the fairy tongue?”

Once again, Rhiannon found herself at an utter loss for words. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, unable to summon her voice before she somehow managed, “You know the fairy language?”

“And more besides,” he stated proudly. “I might not look it, but I know a thing or two about all sorts of topics. News and information are a bard’s bread and butter when songs alone won’t buy supper, after all.”

Would it count if he swore in the language of the Fae?

Rhiannon remembered a lesson from her schoolgirl days that the Fair Folk couldn’t lie, and so their language had taken on the strange property that forced the speaker to speak only the truth. Even humans weren’t exempt. An oath sworn in that language would be kept no matter how seemingly impossible.

“If you swear in the fairy tongue,” she relented, “then I will trust you.”

Taliesin took her hand in both of his and knelt before her the way the heroes in old stories always did. “Then I swear I will do all in my power to prevent any harm to your person,” he said in the silken words of the Fair Folk. The oath reverberated with magic that settled around them. He pressed her fingers to his forehead. “Until we make it to Storm Bearer Pass, no harm shall come to you by my hand or any other.”

“You swear too much!” she protested, but it was too late. The magic pulled taught, binding him to his word.

“So long as it’s within my power, you will be safe,” he reiterated in the common tongue. “I have only sworn what I wished to, and I meant every word.”

He got back to his feet and offered his arm. “So then, Miss...ah... I don’t think I ever caught your name.”

Rhiannon ducked her head so he couldn’t see the lie play out on her face. “You may call me Sofia.”

“Miss Sofia,” he said, smiling. “Allow me to escort you safely to your room for the night.” He threaded her arm with his, and unlike earlier that day with Brodrick, this friendly gesture left Rhiannon relieved.

With Rhiannon no longer afraid of the night, they passed through the park. Across the street stood a large inn that served as the busiest one in the city. Rhiannon hesitated on the threshold. She couldn’t just enter, could she? Someone would stop her and recognize her and then it would all be over.

“No harm will come to you,” Taliesin reminded her, raising the hood of his cloak to hide her soft brown hair. “Let me handle everything.”

He winked, put his arm around her shoulders, and led the way to the back of the lobby where the hall of rooms began. No one spotted them, nor should Rhiannon have expected anyone to when she thought about it. By then, it had to be well past three in the morning. Who would be up at such an hour?

Taliesin quickly unlocked his room and pushed open the door to his accommodations. The room was small and sparsely furnished with nothing but a bed half the size of what Rhiannon was used to and a wash basin upon a stand.

“It’s not much,” admitted Taliesin, “but it’s clean and comfortable enough. You should take the bed.”

“I couldn’t...”

“You could and should,” he replied, bowing once more. “A lovely young maiden shouldn’t have to suffer sleeping on a hard floor.”

“But someone kind enough to help me shouldn’t have to suffer either.”

“I’ll hardly suffer,” he replied with a merry twinkle in his eye. “I’ve slept like a babe under the stars in the mud before. Here at least it’s dry and warm. Much preferable.” He turned back to the door. “I’ll see about an extra pillow and blanket,” he mused. “Take your time washing up while I’m gone. It’ll be a minute to find anyone awake at this hour.”

“Thank you, Sir Taliesin.”

His smile heated her cheeks. “It’s no trouble at all, m’lady.”

Chapter Three

Jessica loathed the idea of Rhiannon marrying the likes of Sir Brodrick. Even so, the castle bustled with activity, positively bursting at the seams with nervous excitement. Their Princess Rhiannon, finally getting married, and to her best friend from childhood! Maids swooned from the romance of it all. They lamented that they would miss the great Sir Brodrick’s bachelorhood but agreed that it was for the best. Sweet Rhiannon would marry the strongest among the knights and escape her fate as a dragon’s prisoner to live happily ever after.

Only Rhiannon’s lady-in-waiting saw things differently. Jessica smiled and nodded with the rest, but her expression remained pinched. She’d seen the way Brodrick treated her lady and had experienced firsthand the way he chased off friends and rival suitors alike. Even the servants hadn’t been exempt from the hurled abuse. Jessica alone had remained when others fled. She prided herself on being a stubborn “country bumpkin” noble and her mulish qualities that the other servants often teased her for. Rhiannon had appreciated Jessica for those same qualities and thanked her for them while weeping in gratitude.

To marry Brodrick was the opposite of a fairy-tale ending in Jessica’s opinion. She bit her tongue while the others gushed around her. She would just have to think of something to keep her lady safely out of his hands. Maybe she could offer to join him on the expedition to fight the dragon and slip him some poison once the deed was done? Then Rhiannon could be happily widowed until she attracted a suitor she cared for.

Jessica comforted herself with this plan while she worked. When she tidied her lady’s chambers, she always left the bedroom for last. Rhiannon had never been a morning person thanks to countless nightmares plaguing her even on the best of nights, so Jessica always saved waking and dressing her lady for the last possible moment. The princess was never much trouble to get ready for the day as Rhiannon always went along with whatever dress and jewelry Jessica chose for her. It had surprised the country noble’s daughter at first, but over their years together, she’d come to realize that was just Rhiannon’s way. She didn’t have much opinion on fashion or jewels, and so Jessica could have fun with them on her behalf.

When the outer rooms had been straightened out, Jessica knocked politely at her lady’s door. She received no reply, nor had she expected one. Once she finally managed to fall asleep, Rhiannon could sleep like the dead.

Jessica let herself in and threw back the curtains to allow watery winter sunlight to stream into the room. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she said as she tied the heavy brocade back with golden cords. “I hope you slept well. I have your breakfast ready in the other room. Please eat while I prepare your...”

She trailed off upon seeing the neatly made bed with no Rhiannon and no sign she had slept there at all last night. Immediately, Jessica’s mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion. What if Brodrick had dragged her poor mistress to his rooms for the night? Their Majesties had given him a suite on the first floor, and that sort of behavior wasn’t unheard of from him. He’d taken liberties with Rhiannon before. A forced kiss here, an improper touch there... Too often, and those were only the times Jessica knew of. She balled her fists at her sides and gritted her teeth.

What should she do? What could she do? Jessica dithered but a moment. It would be better if she were the one to find them. If Brodrick truly was crass enough to kidnap his soon-to-be bride, better that she, someone who could keep it quiet for Rhiannon’s sake, find them and help deny it. Yes. Much better Jessica than Brodrick’s shameless gossip of a squire.

Just in case, she slipped some clothes underneath the cleaning supplies in her bag before heading down the hall. No one was around to notice her descending the servants’ stairs. Even if they had, Jessica had a ready excuse: Her mistress wished to send Brodrick a message. Who would question it? Repulsive as the idea was, they were rumored love birds.

She knocked on the door to Sir Brodrick’s rooms and waited. When he didn’t answer right away, she knocked again, impatient. She heard rustling on the other side, a grouchy, hungover, “What d’you want so early?” and then the door opened. Brodrick, eyes bloodshot from a night of far too much merriment, scowled down at her. “What is it?”

Dropping into a deep curtsy, she asked, “I beg your pardon. Her Highness appears to have gone for a stroll this morning and I was looking for her. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her, have you, sir?” Imperceptibly, she peered through her lashes into the dim room behind him. Deep in the shadows, she saw the bedclothes rustle. Her heart seized in horror.

She couldn’t help but exclaim, “My lord!”

Brodrick hurried to block her view. He was not fast enough. She spotted a petite figure beneath the blankets. “I have not seen Rhiannon this morning,” he informed her with a frown. “If that’s all you needed, leave.”

She couldn’t. Not when there was someone else behind him that could be her mistress. “Are you quite certain?” Jessica leaned slightly to sneak a peek.

“Yes, I’m certain.”

Only when she caught a glimpse of golden curls did Jessica relax. Rhiannon was a brunette, and her hair, though fluffy, laid flat. While she wasn’t surprised that a man engaged would be enjoying another’s company, it still irked her. Just wait until this gets out, she thought viciously as she curtsied once more. “Then I will check elsewhere. Good day, my lord.”

Before she could leave, Brodrick’s broad hand shot out and gripped her upper arm with bruising force. “If I hear any rumors floating about,” he snarled in her ear, “I will personally punish you for stealing from me. Understand?”

Jessica blanched but nodded. “O-Of course,” she stammered. “I saw nothing worth mentioning.”

“Good.” His grip tightened until she thought for sure her bones would break. “I understand good help is hard to come by these days. It would be a shame for someone as well loved as Rhiannon’s personal servant to be without her hands.”

He released her and slammed the door behind him. Jessica’s legs gave out. With a soft whump, she collapsed to the carpet. No one could know. About Brodrick’s affair, and certainly not about Rhiannon’s disappearance. Not yet. Not until she knew for herself what had happened.

My lady, Jessica thought as she hurried back to Rhiannon’s rooms in search of clues, where did you go?

She could only hope that the witch had come to extract the price of her aid directly. No matter how Jessica considered the situation, Rhiannon really would be safer with a dragon than with Sir Brodrick.

~*~

Taliesin gave Rhiannon’s shoulder a gentle shake. “We’re here,” he said.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and rubbed sleep from her eyes. “Uh huh?”

He chuckled. “Shall we find some breakfast?”

They’d only slept a few hours at the inn before Taliesin roused her. From there, he had purchased them passage on the early public carriage headed to Fieldstone, southeast of the capital. Rhiannon had dozed fitfully for what little time they’d been at the inn, and the gentle rocking of the carriage had lulled her into a halfway sort of sleep, her mind racing back to alertness far too often.

Their fellow passengers, a gaggle of older women who had visited the city for the festivities surrounding the princess’s birthday, giggled girlishly at the pair. “Ah, to be young again,” tittered one to her companions.

Even half asleep, Rhiannon felt her cheeks redden, and instinctively she hunched her shoulders. Taliesin only smiled as he helped her up from her rough wooden seat. “Let them think what they want,” he whispered while they waited for the grannies to step down ahead of them. After he made sure the way was clear, he hopped out ahead of her and offered his hand. “I suppose your family will be looking for you with a man, then?”

“N-No,” she stuttered. It was the truth. More likely, they’d pin the blame for her disappearance on the witch or the dragon.

“Then this will work out better for both of us. They’ll search for a young lady traveling alone, not one with a paramour.”

Her cheeks grew hotter. “Can’t we tell people we’re siblings?”

He took her by the hand and waist and swept her down from the carriage. “We hardly look a thing alike. Now let’s grab a bite to eat. I’m starving.”

Taliesin led the way from the carriage stop to a nearby pub. Despite the early hour, folks packed the place from wall to wall. “Sorry!” called a matronly woman loaded down with a dozen or so plates on trays. “We’re full up at the— oh! If it isn’t Taliesin!”

Heads swiveled toward the door, and Rhiannon hid behind the bard. Taliesin took it in stride, giving a dramatic bow before shrugging his instrument case off his shoulder. “Are you sure you can’t squeeze us in for a few minutes? We’ll eat and be on our way.”

“Nonsense!” The woman hurriedly divvied up the plates on the two tables to either side of her. “You can stay as long as you’d like. There’s always space for our favorite musician.” She wiped the grease from her hands onto her apron and dodged between the crowded tables. Spotting Rhiannon, she asked, “And who might this be?”

“This is my Anna,” Taliesin replied with his charming smile. “I promised to take her with me to the Witch City next time I headed that way, and she’s holding me to it.”

“Oho! She’s in for a shock. No place like that place I hear,” laughed the woman. She gestured for them to follow her through the sea of bodies to the bar. Once there, she nudged a pair of men until they fell off their stools, seemingly still drunk from the night prior. “This okay?” she asked, already wiping crumbs from the spot with one hand and snagging the empty mugs’ handles in the other.

“What’s the big idea?”

“We weren’t done yet!”

She put a hand on her hip. “You haven’t ordered anything for the past hour. Let someone else have a chance to sit down!”

The pair of drunks opened their mouths to keep complaining, but a cheery wave from Taliesin quickly diffused the situation. Much like the woman, the drunkards lit up at the sight of him.

“Blimey! What’re you doin’ back here? Thought you were headin’ for the capital!”

“Change of plans. Anna here wants to visit the Witch City.” He gestured to Rhiannon and said, “Gentlemen, meet my sweet Anna. Anna, these are the folks I told you about. The ones who sang along with every one of my songs until they made themselves hoarse.”

The pair guffawed. “Here that, Marcy? We’re legendary! Bards are tellin’ tales of our misdeeds.”

The server, Marcy, rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” She shifted her attention to her two most recent customers. “So, what can I get for you both?”

“Whatever you have cooking is fine,” Taliesin replied smoothly. “We’re not picky.” He gestured to the corner not far from the bar. “Mind if I set up for a bit?”

Marcy chuckled. “If I said no, they’d lock me up for a loon. Have at it. I’ll wave you over when the food’s here.”

“Thank you kindly.” Taliesin left his bag with Rhiannon and headed for the spot he’d indicated. Popping the latches of his instrument’s case nearly silenced the room. All eyes trained on him while he rosined his bow and plucked the strings of his violin to test the pitch. Adjustments were made, and he tucked the instrument under his chin. Then he pulled the bow across the strings. The sweetest sound lingered in the air, followed by another note and another.

The simple act of tuning an instrument had never sounded so lovely to Rhiannon’s ears, and judging by the rapt attention of the audience around her, she wasn’t alone. When he began to play the introduction to his tune, Rhiannon hardly dared to breathe lest she interrupt the melody drifting through the air, and when he opened his mouth and sang—

Marcy raised a teasing brow. “Haven’t heard your Taliesin play before, have you?”

Rhiannon startled. “What?”

The pub keeper set a pair of plates loaded with meat and potatoes before Rhiannon. “Got that dazed look in your eye. Most everyone gets that way the first time or two they hear that boy sing.” She smiled fondly at the bard. “He’s quite good, isn’t he? Brings in crowds wherever he goes. Swear he’s descended from a siren or something.” Her attention returned to Rhiannon. Hesitantly, she asked, “He isn’t, is he?”

“Not that I know of.” Although he did speak the fairy language. Maybe there was something to this particular rumor.

“Just checking. Personally, I think it’s all a load of hooey. He’s good, but not Fair Folk good. I’ve seen him make a mistake here and there. He covers it pretty well. A professional through and through.”

She waved him over, and the third tune of the afternoon abruptly broke off. Taliesin bowed to his audience, and as they begged for more, he promised a few more ditties after he ate his fill.

“How’s the food?” he asked, pulling the barstool out.

“Delicious,” Rhiannon replied. In reality, it was far too greasy for her taste. She couldn’t afford to blow their cover, so she persevered. Even so, the best of intentions cannot make heavy food sit light in the gut.

Taliesin smiled that same charming smile he had earlier. “Then you won’t mind sharing,” he said before forking her remaining portion of meat and potatoes. “Marcy, do you have any of your roast chicken?” he called over the general hubbub.

“You’re still hungry?” the woman said in disbelief from the far side of the room.

“For Agnus’s cooking? Always.”

“Glutton,” she shot right back before abandoning her current load to the wolf pack groping for the plates. “I’ll see if he’s got any going right now.”

“Thanks,” he said as she passed. “And if you have any vegetables...”

Marcy did a double take. “You? Vegetables? I must be hearing things. Are you sick?”

He took the teasing in stride. “Anna is rather fond of them.”

When the server left, Rhiannon whispered, “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“No need to worry.” Taliesin helped himself to another potato off her plate and popped it into his mouth. He waited until he swallowed before continuing, “I would have asked for more anyway. Marcy teases about my appetite, but it’s perfectly normal.” He stole another tuber. “If anything, I should be apologizing to you. I should have thought of your preferences before ordering for us both.”

Rhiannon flushed. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. “It’s all right,” she mumbled.

“It most certainly isn’t,” he replied just as easily. “Say something next time.”

Marcy returned with a generous portion of chicken breast that seeped juices onto the plate as well as a bowl of carrots in a thin broth. “We’re a little short on veggies until the delivery from Monsain arrives,” she explained apologetically as she placed the latter before Rhiannon. The other she set before Taliesin. “Things’ve had trouble getting anywhere the past few weeks.”

Taliesin perked up at this bit of news. “Oh? What’s happened in Monsain?”

“They’re saying a wyvern’s taken up residence along the roads so nothing’s coming in from the port.”

“A wyvern? Really?”

“A nasty one from the sound of it. Joshua just the other day said he had to turn back around ’cause of it. Hope the folks at the castle send someone soon. It’s hitting businesses around here pretty hard.”

“Their monster hunter extraordinaire hasn’t taken care of it?”

“Nah, too busy with bigger fish. Heard he took out a manticore a month ago and is gearing up for the dragon on Storm Bearer.”

The fork paused halfway to Taliesin’s lips. “That dragon? But it hasn’t bothered anyone since taking up residence, what, twenty years ago?”

“Heard the princess was engaged to it,” laughed the barmaid. “Seems His Majesty doesn’t want an overgrown lizard in the royal family.”

“Why on earth would the princess be engaged to a dragon?” Taliesin asked, absolutely flummoxed.

Marcy guffawed. “You haven’t heard that story? I thought you knew everything there is to know out in the big wide world!”

“Even a bard has his blind spots,” Taliesin admitted. “So, what’s this about the princess and a dragon?”

Marcy leaned on the bar and grinned at him. “You’re a bit young to remember this, but nineteen years ago on the day Her Highness, Princess Rhiannon, was born, the king led an army to stop some invaders from the north. The story goes that when he got there, a witch had already blown up the whole of the Trebolc invaders and threatened to slaughter the king’s men too. In exchange for sparing them, she demanded his daughter marry that dragon on her nineteenth birthday.”

His brow furrowed. “A witch? Which one?”

“No one knows for sure, but if you ask me, it’s probably that Dragon Witch. If it’s to do with dragons, it’s gotta be her.”

Taliesin glanced at Rhiannon. “Why haven’t you told me this story?” he asked. “You know a bard in the boonies never hears the best the capital has to offer.”

Rhiannon averted her gaze. “I...er...”

“Now, now,” Marcy said, “that’s no way to treat sweet Anna. Just for that”—she pushed the plate of chicken away from Taliesin and toward Rhiannon—“you don’t get any chicken. Especially since you stole her food before. Don’t think I didn’t spot you.”

The bard chuckled. “You caught me red-handed. Please don’t call the constable on me.”

“I’ll let it slide.” Marcy wagged her finger at him. “But only this time.”

When Marcy walked away to handle another group that had just entered the pub, Taliesin winked behind her back. “Take your time. I need to play a few more tunes or my audience might revolt.” A cheer rose from the crowd when he picked up his fiddle and returned to his spot of honor.

Rhiannon and her bard spent an hour at the pub, and another half besides. People begged for more tunes as they threw coins at his feet to bribe him into staying. “One more round!” they pleaded, and once he indulged them, they urged him to do so again. After the third encore, he bowed with a performer’s flourish and insisted that he must go.

“I’m afraid my Anna and I must depart,” he informed them. “Thank you so much for being a wonderful audience.”

Taliesin stooped to collect the coins and safely stow his instrument. A few from his audience approached, asking for the latest news and gossip from his travels. He gave a rundown in return for another generous tip. One young woman pulled at his sleeve, begging him to join her friends for a drink, but he politely declined.

“I have a lady waiting for me,” he said with a teasing lilt. The young woman followed his gaze to Rhiannon and pouted. “I can’t afford to dawdle, lest I make us late for the next leg of our journey.”

The pair left the tavern with a heavier purse than when they entered. Taliesin looked pleased as punch with the result. Rhiannon glanced back at the folks waving in the tavern.

“Is it always like this?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Add music to any pub and they get a little rowdy.”

But Rhiannon couldn’t exactly call that rowdy. Jovial and noisy, perhaps, but certainly not rowdy. She picked up the pace to keep in step beside him. A dead silence loomed on the horizon of the conversation. She searched for something to say. “Your playing sounded wonderful.”

“That means a lot coming from you, Miss Sofia,” he replied. She thought she saw the slightest tinge of red to his cheek, but he quickly looked away toward a large shopfront. His steps slowed. “Did you still want to exchange your possessions for capital?”

Rhiannon followed his gaze to the pawnshop. “Do you think it’s safe to do so here?”

“They probably haven’t alerted anyone out this way just yet, and I know the owner well enough. John spends a lot of time at the pub. He’ll keep quiet should anyone ask after you.”

Rhiannon held her basket close. “Then I probably should. I can’t rely on you the whole way.” How much would her jewelry fetch her anyway? A couple of gold pieces? A thousand? She’d never thought about the value before.

Mistaking her dithering for reticence to part with precious treasures, Taliesin placed a hand on her shoulder. “I really don’t mind if you rely on me. Those are dear to you, aren’t they? You should keep them. Believe me when I say that I can afford—”

She shook her head. “They aren’t that important to me. I just don’t know what a fair price would be for them.”

Taliesin chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “If you’d like, I could handle it, but only if you’re comfortable with that. I wouldn’t want to force you.”

Did she trust him enough to handle her money? He’d been so honest with her, but that didn’t change the fact that she hardly knew him. “I think I would rather try to handle it myself?”

“I’ll still come in with you. Just in case.”

Inside, the store smelled strongly of tobacco smoke. Rhiannon coughed, and her eyes stung. Through the haze, she spotted a chubby man with a dusty gray beard and stringy hair. “Evening,” he said around his pipe. More smoke billowed from his mouth to accompany the words. “Don’t got nothing new instrument-wise. Nobody’s passing through.”

“I think you mean ‘afternoon’ there, John,” Taliesin replied, “and I’m not here about instruments today. Do you have a minute to appraise some jewels?”

The man raised a bushy eyebrow. “Again? Where does a bard like you keep finding those things?”

“Not me. This lovely lady has one she’d like to sell.”

Rhiannon dug through her belongings and found the smallest of the pieces she’d packed: a pair of pearl earrings. “How much can I get for these?”

John gave them a cursory once over. Gruffly, “Best I can do is five silver pieces.”

Taliesin plucked one from his hand and peered more closely. “Are you sure about that? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen saltwater pearls like these go wholesale for a gold a piece. Set the way they are, shouldn’t she get a little more? Say, three gold pieces an earring?”

“You trying to rob me blind, boy?” But John didn’t sound angry. If anything, he seemed to take pleasure in the challenge. “I’ll do nine silvers for both.”

“Two gold pieces an earring.”

“I’ll do two for the both of them, final offer. Take it or leave it.”

Taliesin looked to Rhiannon. “Does two sound fair to you?”

She licked her dry lips. “I don’t know,” she admitted. If the pearls alone really were going for a single gold piece, then two for the pair only covered the pearls. “Can’t you do more?”

“Take it or leave it, Miss.” The man chewed on the end of his pipe as he looked her over. “You aren’t from around these parts, are you? We don’t have the money for fancy jewelry. I’ll have these in the shop for years until some traveling noble wanders on through, and that’s only if they come into my shop. I’ll be taking a loss on those.”

“Poppycock,” Taliesin said. “I know you trade goods with your brother in Portsmouth. You’ll just get him to buy them, and he can sell them for more.”

“Still need to get ’em there. You’ve heard about that wyvern over by Monsain, haven’t you? Really mucking things up.”

“Again with the wyvern,” mumbled Taliesin. He combed his fingers through his dark bangs. “We’re heading that way. I’ll see if I can’t handle the wyvern. Can you do three gold for the earrings knowing that?”

Rhiannon’s mouth fell open as she gawked at the bard. The shopkeeper didn’t seem to think anything of this statement. He only stroked his beard. “I can do that. But only if I’m not paying you for the wyvern thing.”

“We’ll need to do something about that anyway if we want to pass through. I’ll consider a fair price on the earrings payment enough.”

The old man eyed Taliesin warily. Still, much to Rhiannon’s alarm, it did not look like the shopkeeper disbelieved Taliesin capable of keeping his word. Rather, the suspicion stemmed more from the low cost. “Fine. You do good work. That thing’ll be gone by the end of the week.”

The lockbox clicked open, and he dropped three gold coins on the counter. “Now get going. I want that wyvern out of there as soon as possible.”

Taliesin deftly palmed the coins. “Pleasure doing business with you, John.” He passed the money to Rhiannon.

“Feh. Just take care of it. Don’t make me regret giving you the extra coin.”

Rhiannon couldn’t find the words to ask what that exchange was about until they reached the carriage station. She could only stare at her bardic escort, boring holes in the back of his head as she reevaluated the man before her. If he could take out a wyvern, maybe his promise in Fae wasn’t as ridiculous as it had initially seemed.

He glanced back at her. “Copper for your thoughts?”

She traded his question for her own. “How are you going to handle the wyvern?”

Taliesin smiled. “Trade secret, I’m afraid. Just know that I’ll be able to handle it without any inconvenience to you.”

“But—”

“There is no need to worry yourself over me. I know what I can and cannot handle, and a single wyvern is well within my abilities.”

Just what kind of bard had she fallen in with?

Chapter Four

“Monsain?” repeated the stable master in astonishment. “You must be insane! I’m not selling any horses to someone crazy enough to go to Monsain! My poor darlings will be wyvern chow!”

Taliesin sighed. “I plan to do something about the wyvern problem. The way will be safe for all beasts shortly, but that doesn’t change the fact that I need a mount to get there.”

“I’m not selling! I refuse.” He stomped his foot with finality. A pony two stalls over echoed his sentiment.

Even Taliesin’s patience wore thin. “Then do you know someone who would sell me a horse?”

“If you want to get eaten, that’s your choice. Leave the poor animals out of it. I will have nothing to do with this business.”

“They won’t get eaten! I swear on my honor.”

“The honor of a bard means nothing to me.”

Taliesin sighed again and turned to leave. “Let’s get out of here.”

Rhiannon glanced back at the stable master before ultimately following her companion. “Maybe we can walk?” she suggested. It couldn’t be that far...she didn’t think. Though the disappointment he quickly hid spoke volumes.

“It seems like we’ll have to...unless...” He changed direction, making a beeline for a nearby tavern. “I have an idea.”

“You aren’t going to gamble for a horse, are you?” Rhiannon had heard stories of the mind-blowing bets people made while drunk. If the tales were to be believed, a bard taking advantage of such a situation would be par for the course.

“Just going to cash in on a favor if I can find that woman.” He rested his hand on the latch. “You should probably wait out here. This place can be a little rough.”

No matter what they found within, the thought of staying out here alone frightened her more. “Then maybe I should stay with you? I can’t help but feel safer by your side.”

Taliesin rubbed the back of his neck. “You have a point, but I’d feel better if you didn’t meet my acquaintance. She can be a little...much.”

Curious.

“Much how?”

Abruptly he asked, “Have you met many witches, Miss Sofia?”

The surprises just kept coming. “She’s a witch?”

He held the door open for her. “A minor one, yes.”

“Who’re you calling minor?!” a voice shouted over the general hubbub, sending the evening crowd into stunned silence.

“...And she’s a little loud.” Taliesin heaved a weary sigh. “Evening, Tabitha. Thought I’d find you here.”

The tall, lanky woman with a shock of red hair thumped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand with a grumpy scowl. “Hmph, calling me a ‘minor witch.’ Kids these days have no respect.”

“But you’re part of the minor arcana,” Taliesin pointed out as he and Rhiannon approached.

“Doesn’t mean I’m ‘minor.’”

“That’s exactly what it means.”

Tabitha harrumphed again before turning her gaze on Rhiannon. “And who’s this? I didn’t know you found yourself a girlfriend.”

“This is Miss Sofia, and I’m escorting her to her fiancé in the south,” he said with all the resignation of one who bore the brunt of this sort of treatment on a regular basis. “She isn’t my girlfriend.”

“Well, that’s a pity. A fiancé does put a damper on things.” Tabitha looked Rhiannon up and down. “She’s cute. A little on the plain side, but I bet she’d—”

Taliesin held a hand up. “Please stop. It’s one thing to pick on me, but please refrain from dragging Miss Sofia into this.”

Tabitha batted his shoulder. “Aw, you’re no fun,” she complained. “So, what can I do for you? You never swing by just to say hi.”

“I need to borrow your broom.”

“Ah, taking on the wyvern? Good. Saves me the trouble.” The witch groped underneath the table, clumsy and sideways. A moment later, she sat back up with a broomstick in hand. “Is your girlfriend going with you?”

“I’d rather she didn’t, but I see no other choice. Also, she isn’t my girlfriend.” He gripped the broomstick’s pole, but when he tugged it, she refused to let go.

“She’s welcome to hang out with me. I don’t bite.” Then with a devilish grin she added, “...Much.” She clicked her teeth together and laughed when Rhiannon flinched.

Groaning, Taliesin asked, “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“Only a couple.” She frowned and counted on her fingers. “Okay, maaaaybe a little closer to a dozen pints. Those were forever ago, though. I’m perfectly sober now.”

He gave the broomstick another tug. “Miss Sofia, we should probably get going if we’re going to track that wyvern tonight.”

“It’s too dark out for that,” purred the witch. “Not everyone’s got your eyes, Taliesin. Stay a while. You can always take care of that nasty ol’ wyvern in the morning. Have a drink.” She turned toward the bar and waved. “Two pints for the gentleman and lady!”

“We’re fine without them,” Taliesin called right after. Used to Tabitha’s exuberance, the bartender only rolled his eyes and went back to polishing the tankard in his hand. “Thank you for the broom, Tabitha. I’ll bring it right back.”

Tabitha pouted, but the hurt quickly turned to petulance. “Do you even know how to fly that thing? Thought you didn’t need one of those to get around. Or... Oh, I get it. You just wanna show off to your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said patiently, “and how else am I supposed to reach the wyvern?”

The witch looked amused by this reply, though Rhiannon didn’t understand why. “How indeed,” she mused. “I suppose you’d need to keep your hands free to handle the wyvern, so carrying this sweet girl is out of the question.”

He groaned. “Tabitha...”

“But won’t you need your hands to fly this bad boy too? I don’t see much benefit, but I guess you could always—”

“Tabitha!”

She gave him a slow, smug smile, enjoying every moment she made him lose his composure. “Yes? Is something wrong?”

Fed up now, he reached for Rhiannon’s hand. “We’re leaving.”

The witch seized his wrist first, suddenly far more alert. “Hold up a second, will you? I’ll stop teasing, so let the girl stay here.” Suddenly all business, she told them, “It’s a pretty nasty wyvern from what I hear. It has a taste for human flesh, particularly of the young maiden variety, and the maneaters are always most active after dark. She should stay here with me. I’ll keep her outta trouble.”

Taliesin glanced between Rhiannon and Tabitha. “I think I’d prefer to rent her a room someplace.”

“You know this isn’t the town to leave a young lady unattended. Especially not now that the scummier lot in this bar have seen her.” She waved a hand toward the others inhabiting the tables around them. While subtle, every single thug had inspected the pair. Rhiannon shrank a little closer to Taliesin. “Have her stay with me. I’ll blast a hole in anyone that so much as looks at her funny.” She shot a glare toward those still checking Rhiannon out with their smirks, and instantly they all found much more interesting diversions in their tankards.

While he didn’t doubt Tabitha’s abilities, it didn’t change the fact that she was hammered. “What do you think, Miss Sofia?” he asked after a long moment. “If you don’t want to stay with Tabitha, I understand completely.”

“Poo to you too, Taliesin.”

“But she does have a point. I don’t think I can keep my promise of your safety if you come with me.”

Rhiannon didn’t think he could keep it if she stayed here either. She hesitated, glancing from face to face in the dimly lit pub. “Do we have to stay in the tavern?” she asked, voice hoarse.

“We can relocate. I have my place set up just outside of town.” The witch pushed back her chair and wobbled as she stood. “It’s a nice little cottage. Got lots of tasty things to eat there too.” She scratched her head. “That is, if Merlin’s in the mood tonight. I probably shouldn’t be handling a stove like this, even if it is the magical kind.”

Taliesin crouched slightly and slung Tabitha’s arm over his shoulder. She tottered even with assistance. “Where did you set down your cottage?”

“I told you! On the edge of town.”

“Which edge? There are quite a few to this side of the city alone.”

“About...” She pursed her lips and struggled to think of it. “About five minutes down the road. That edge. Over by the stream.”

“Got it.” Taliesin gave Rhiannon an apologetic inclination of the head. “Sorry about all this. I didn’t think you’d have to babysit a drunk when I suggested stopping here.”

Rhiannon shook her head. “It’s all right.” At least Tabitha seemed like the mostly harmless sort. Brodrick even one drink in could be impossible to deal with. She avoided him on such occasions, but sometimes he would drag her into his ‘fun.’ Tabitha didn’t strike her as the type to force spirits on her if Rhiannon said no.

They went in search of the cottage, but their quest ended anticlimactically when the cottage found them instead. Rhiannon should have expected someone as odd as Tabitha to have an equally odd house, but it had never occurred to her that the house would be able to meet them well before the aforementioned stream. Most cottages, after all, didn’t have a pair of bony chicken feet to hop around on.

“Thanks, Merlin,” Taliesin told the house when it crouched to bring the doorway closer to them. “Think you can let us in too?” The latch clicked, and the door swung open to admit them of its own volition. “Thanks again!” He gave Tabitha a nudge. “Let’s get you inside.”

She pumped her fist into the air. “Okay!” The motion set her off-balance. If not for Taliesin’s hold on her, she’d have toppled over. Rhiannon hurried to her other side so the witch didn’t overbalance Taliesin as well. Together, they helped her stumble across the threshold and toward the sofa.

“I’m really sorry about this,” Taliesin said, running his fingers through his bangs in defeat. “She’s normally not this bad.”

“I’m always this bad,” laughed the witch. She flopped onto the cushions and kicked her legs against the arm of her sofa. “Life’s more fun with a couple of pints! Not my fault you can’t get tipsy.”

Taliesin shook his head. It wasn’t worth arguing with her. “Do you think you can handle her? She’ll probably pass out in a few minutes.”

Rhiannon did her best to keep her expression reassuring. “I should be okay. But what about you? Are you really going after that wyvern tonight?” And though she didn’t say it, she certainly thought it: And by yourself?

“He’ll be fine. Taliesin’s got lots of tricks up his sleeve.” Tabitha giggled. “Lots and lots.”

“What she means to say,” Taliesin said, shooting her a look that momentarily sobered the witch, “is that lesser dragons communicate through music. I can probably convince it to leave, and if I can’t charm it, I can scare it off.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” added the witch. “Make a violin screech loud enough and they’ll run away. Usually. If they don’t, you gotta muscle them into submission.”

Taliesin sent her another look. “Don’t go worrying Sofia unnecessarily.” He turned back to Rhiannon and took her hands in his to give them a reassuring squeeze. “I’m good at handling wyverns. Honestly, I’m more worried about leaving you here with her.”

“Isn’t he a sweetie?” cooed Tabitha, giggling. “Such a gentleman~”

“Just don’t take her too seriously,” warned Taliesin. “She babbles a lot when she’s in her cups. She doesn’t know half of what she’s saying.”

“That’s what you think,” murmured the witch before yawning loudly. “Get a move on already, Taliesin. You don’t want to be out all night, do you?”

Having said his piece, he didn’t need more prompting. He brushed his thumbs along the back of Rhiannon’s hands and let them drop. Taking the broom from where he’d leaned it against the doorframe, he called, “I’ll be back soon. Behave yourself, Tabitha.”

“We’ll be fine. Just get going already!”

The door closed behind him and locked of its own accord. Rhiannon glanced around the dimly lit sitting room. While not messy, it also wasn’t entirely free from clutter, as the many rooms of the castle had been. Though it was a little dark...

As if sensing her thought, the chandelier above their heads sputtered and gradually glowed brighter.

“Merlin,” whined the witch, “why must you be so cruel?”

Rhiannon caught sight of a light in a side room. She followed it to a kitchen packed with every ingredient imaginable. “Did you name your house Merlin?” she asked as she scanned the untidy space.

A small broom sprang to life and swept a collection of empty bottles and boxes from the stovetop. Firewood clunked itself into the grate and burst into flame without need of match nor assistance. A kettle shook free of the paper parcels leaned haphazardly against it to drop into the sink with a clang. Water splashed from the pump of its own accord, and once the kettle had its fill, it sloshed itself to the stove to boil.

“A good house needs a name,” replied the witch from her sofa. “Isn’t that right, Merlin?” The lights flickered in a way Rhiannon took for agreement.

A cabinet creaked open, and Rhiannon found it well stocked with dozens of canisters. One scooted out from among the rest, and inside Rhiannon smelled mint and chamomile. Also in the cabinet was a tea set and tray, which she handled with care. A few of the cups were already chipped—no need to add to the casualties.

The kettle whistled sooner than she expected. Rhiannon carefully swished some boiling water in the teapot before discarding it. The second time she filled it, she included the leaves. A matching tiny pitcher of cream settled among the pair of cups and saucers, as did a jar of honey. Smiling to herself, Rhiannon picked up the tray and headed back to the parlor.

Tabitha startled at the quiet chink of porcelain touching down lightly on the table. She stifled a yawn and sat up. “Mmm, smells divine,” she murmured sleepily as she took the cup Rhiannon poured for her. Tabitha sipped it and hummed contentedly. “I would have thought a well-bred young lady like you wouldn’t know the first thing about brewing tea.”

“I guess you could say it’s a hobby of mine,” Rhiannon replied. She poured a cup for herself and perched on the wingback chair that slid itself closer for the purpose.

“I’m surprised a princess would have such a simple hobby.”

Rhiannon nearly choked on her first sip. Spluttering, she asked, “What did you just say?”

“Oh, you might be able to pull the wool over Taliesin’s eyes, but the Seeing Witch cannot be so easily fooled!” She gave a prideful laugh and swayed dangerously. The sofa’s wooden arm unfurled to steady her cup. “You’re the Princess Rhiannon, aren’t you? The one promised to the dragon of Storm Bearer’s Peak.”

Shaking, Rhiannon set her cup down before she spilled anything. “Please don’t tell Taliesin.”

Tabitha grinned. “Oh, your secret’s safe with me. Just like Taliesin’s.” She guffawed, much to Rhiannon’s puzzlement. The handsome bard had already proven to have so many talents. What more could he be hiding? “Oh, this will be so much fun. I wish I could see his face when he realizes just who your fiancé is.” The laughter dissolved into a giggling fit. “Won’t he be surprised.”

Rhiannon cast about for a safer subject. “Miss Tabitha, might I ask how you know Taliesin?”

“I’ve known him since he was born. I’m his godmother, you see. Gertrude, his mother, was my best friend growing up.” She slurped down some tea. “When he was little, he was always getting underfoot while I was doing magic. He’s grown so much.”

“Is that why he can speak the fairy language?”

“Oh no, that’s because he’s a parrot,” she replied with an affectionate smile. “That boy hears a tune one time and can play it perfectly from memory. Same with languages. He’s always been like that.”

That satisfied one bit of Rhiannon’s curiosity. She picked up her teacup again and sipped. The strong herbal taste warmed her to the core.

“Still, it surprises me to see him with you,” continued the witch, abruptly changing gears. “It’s not often he has a traveling companion. He’s usually such a loner.”

“Oh? But he seems to get along with people wonderfully.”

“That’s his bard persona,” Tabitha said dismissively. “He’s friendly and likes to help where he can, but when he’s not performing? He would much rather be holed up on his own somewhere with that violin of his. He certainly doesn’t invite pretty, young women to tag along on adventures. You, my dear, must be special.”

Rhiannon shook her head. “It’s nothing like that. He saved me and just wanted to help, like you said.”

“He could have simply put you on a carriage and let you be on your way,” she pointed out. “He didn’t have to personally escort you.”

Heat flooded Rhiannon’s cheeks. She took a sip to hide behind her cup.

The witch watched in amusement. “He’s also not much for touching people, but he’s held your hand plenty.”

“He’s being nice,” Rhiannon protested. “I’m sure he does that for a lot of people.”

“Nope. Taliesin hasn’t shown a lick of interest in anyone before you.” Her lips curved upward. “I think he might just have a crush on you.”

“He couldn’t possibly!” He’d only been rescuing a damsel in distress when they met. The kiss had merely been a ruse to throw the guard off her trail. Rhiannon’s cheeks reddened further with the memory.

Tabitha smirked. Teasing was quickly proving to be too much fun. “The way you’re acting, I bet you have a little crush on our Taliesin too. How precious.”

Rhiannon set her cup and saucer down. “It’s not like that. He just... We just...”

“He kissed you, I bet,” continued the witch, smirk growing. “How is he at that? Any good?”

“I... What?” spluttered poor Rhiannon.

The witch giggled. “All right, all right, that was over the line. I’ll stop picking on you for the evening.” She yawned and set aside her teacup. “Don’t know about you, but I’m rather peckish. Merlin, do you have anything for us?”

Cabinets rattled, and a tin of cookies flew into the sitting room, landing squarely on the table between them. Tabitha pried the lid off and plucked a few buttery tea biscuits from the stack. “Want one?” To be polite, Rhiannon accepted the offer.

Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed the hour. Rhiannon startled at the sound, nearly dropping her cookie. “Is it that late already?”

Tabitha hummed around her snack. “It is getting rather late, isn’t it? Well, I’m sure Merlin can get a room together for you.”

“What about Taliesin?”

Tabitha consulted what appeared to be a watch in her pocket. “He’ll be a while yet. Wyverns aren’t too much trouble when you know what you’re about, but they still take time to deal with. Merlin will let him in once he gets back.” She stifled another yawn and led Rhiannon to the back of her humble home, one that seemed far larger than it should have been from the outside.

“He will be okay, won’t he?”

“Like I said, wyverns aren’t a problem for Taliesin. He’ll be back before you know it.” Tabitha unlocked a door Rhiannon could have sworn hadn’t been there a moment before. Beyond the threshold was a cozy bedroom. A round window looked out over an impossible ocean lit by glittering stars. Tucked beneath it was a bed piled high with quilts and feather pillows. A wardrobe stood beside one wall, while a dresser cluttered with vases of fresh-cut flowers rested against the opposite. “Make yourself comfy. I’ll be down the hall if you need me for anything.” She stifled a rather long, final yawn and shuffled down the way to the room she had indicated.

Lovely as the room was, it still took a long time for Rhiannon to find herself dozing off. Worries about Taliesin swirled with the notion that a wyvern might attract Brodrick even with a far more impressive quarry to dispose of—a quarry that would leave Rhiannon at his mercy should he succeed. When at last she managed to drift off into an uneasy sleep, her waking anxieties followed her into her dreams.

Brodrick chased her down on his horse, a dark expression on his face. Below her feet, the mud sucked her down to the ankles. She fought for each step. His steed had no such struggle, and as the horse closed in, Rhiannon tripped and smashed into the muck. Terror seized her heart. Her limbs froze. She couldn’t escape. He would catch up one way or another. Tears. Sobs. Trembling...

Someone traced gentle fingers through her hair. From somewhere far away, she thought she heard whispered reassurances. Slowly, the fear lessened, and with a wordless song gently wrapping around her, nightmares gave way to pleasanter dreams.

~*~

By morning, the worst of her fears had dissipated. Rhiannon sighed contentedly as she snuggled deeper into the warm quilt and her dreams of music, flower fields, and laughter. The sunlight streaming through the crack in the curtains refused to give her peace. Worse yet, the house itself pulled the drapes back.

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” she mumbled. “Give me a moment, Jessica, won’t you?”

“I’m sure Jessica will give you all the time you want,” came a voice from the doorway. “Merlin, however, is a lot less patient.”

Rhiannon shot up in bed. Amusement colored Tabitha’s tone as she leaned against the frame. “Did you sleep well, Princess?”

“Yes, I did. Thank you.” Rhiannon pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. She hurriedly dug through her things for a clean dress to change into. “Has Taliesin returned?”

Tabitha smiled. “He did. I don’t think he’ll be joining us for breakfast, though.”

Concern halted her search. “He wasn’t injured, was he?”

“No. Just exhausted. I don’t think he got much sleep last night.” Then chuckling to herself, she said, “His loss is our gain. Merlin prepared quite the spread for us this morning.” She stepped out into the hall, paused long enough to say over her shoulder, “Take your time getting ready. The food will stay hot for you,” and closed the door.

As promised, a wide array of dishes waited for Rhiannon in a dining room she knew for sure hadn’t been there the night before. Plates of toast sat next to bowls of out-of-season fruits, some of which Rhiannon had never seen. Eggs and bacon had already been dished out for her at one place on the table. Likely an attempt on Merlin’s part at protecting her food from the witch who currently shoveled all morsels within arm’s reach into her mouth.

“Muffin?” Tabitha offered around a mouthful, waving a hand. The basket that was heaped high with baked goods hopped closer. Rhiannon accepted one of the fresh-from-the-oven treats and took a bite. The taste of sweet summer berries filled her mouth. She eagerly took another.

As Rhiannon munched on her breakfast, Tabitha watched with a smirk. One that gave Rhiannon pause. “Is there something on my face?”

“I was just curious how you slept.” The teasing lilt put the girl on edge. “I hear princesses have trouble if there’s so much as a pea under the mattress, and I’m sure there’s bigger things than that on your mind, Your Highness.”

She could have asked without the teasing. To prevent herself from saying just that, Rhiannon nibbled on a sliced peach to buy herself a moment. “I slept okay. Thank you for asking.”

“Good, good. That’s what we like to hear.” She swapped focus to someone just behind Rhiannon. Her voice turned even more syrupy sweet as she addressed them. “Isn’t that right, Taliesin?”

The usually well-dressed bard looked rather frumpy this morning. He combed his fingers through tangled, unkempt hair. In the soft light of the magical chandelier, the black of his locks had an odd, almost blue sheen to it.

“Ignore her,” Taliesin yawned, pulling Rhiannon from her brief bout of confusion at his transformed appearance. “Tabitha is always like this.” He crossed the room to the third seat at the table. Its inhabitant, a large fluffy cat, gave the bard a cold side-eye before leaping down. “I am glad to hear you slept well. I was afraid all that talk of dragons and wyverns last night would upset you.”

“It didn’t bother me at all,” Rhiannon quickly reassured him. “I was more concerned for your safety than anything.”

“Then I apologize for causing you concern. I assure you, all went well.”

“Is it safe to assume the wyvern’s taken care of?” Tabitha asked, reaching for the dish of bacon.

Taliesin beat her to the crunchy strips of meaty goodness. “The wyvern’s taken care of. It fled when faced with a bigger dragon than itself.”

Rhiannon’s hand flew to her mouth. “There was a dragon?!” she gasped.

He waved his hands. “No, not a real dragon,” he assured her. “I faked a dragon’s call. Only the dumbest wyvern will stick around to make sure it’s the real thing.”

“Ah yes, your famous fake dragon’s call,” snarked the witch with the smarmiest of grins. “Maybe you could treat us to an encore this morning? I haven’t heard it in years.”

“Tabitha...” Taliesin sighed and shook his head. Instead of getting annoyed, he opted to partake of a poached egg atop a slice of toast.

Pouting, she whined, “Aw, I’m sure Sofia here would love to hear it. It’s oh so lifelike. Why, she was just telling me how she’s interested in dragons.”

Doubtfully casting a glance at Rhiannon, he said, “Did she really?”

Tabitha elbowed Rhiannon, grin growing ever larger. “Of course! You want to hear it, don’t you? It’s so realistic.”

Rhiannon ducked her head. “I don’t know. If Taliesin doesn’t want to, then he shouldn’t have to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Taliesin said. “It’s more that I wouldn’t want to frighten you. I’ve fooled wyverns and greater dragons alike with it in the past.”

“Oh yes,” agreed Tabitha. “He’s upset more than one with his playacting.”

“Then, could I hear it?” If Rhiannon was to be the bride of a dragon, it might be better to get used to the scarier sounds when not faced with the real thing.

Taliesin set aside his fork. “Very well. Give me a moment.” Eyes closed, he cleared his throat and thumped his chest a few times in preparation. When he reopened his eyes and mouth, Rhiannon swore for a second that she saw the green of his irises flash gold. What startled her more, however, was the growling, gravelly nature his voice took on. “I am Taliesin, dragon of the Storm Peak,” he boomed, and Rhiannon flinched in her seat. “What lowly wyvern dares stand in my way?”

He coughed and took a swig from his goblet of juice. He swallowed a few times, cleared his throat again. With another thump to his chest, his voice had regained its musical quality, even if it was still uncharacteristically raspy. “How was that?”

Tabitha applauded. “Bravo. Encore! Encore!”

He leveled an apathetic look at his godmother, then heaved another sigh before returning his attention to his breakfast. “I didn’t scare you, did I, Miss Sofia?”

It had surprised her, certainly, to hear so uncharacteristic a sound come from someone as unassuming as Taliesin. However, she didn’t think it counted as frightening. Rhiannon said, “I’m all right. Just startled. I didn’t think you would be so good at it.”

Tabitha giggled. “He’s good at a lot of dragon-related things.”

But why would a bard be good at dragons? Rhiannon glanced surreptitiously at Taliesin. Did he have a history with them, perhaps? Could something have happened in the past, where he had survived a run-in with a wyvern with only his wits and talent for mimicry? Was that why he wanted to help people, with no concern for his own safety?

Taliesin sighed and shook his head once more. Rather than comment on the witch’s teasing, he spoke to Rhiannon, drawing her from her thoughts. “We should be on our way sooner rather than later. The carriages won’t be running until they’re certain the wyvern’s gone for good, but I can probably arrange with the stables to rent a horse for our journey if you are agreeable to it.”

“Never thought I’d see the day when Taliesin would ride a horse,” quipped the witch. Again, Taliesin ignored her.

“A horse would be fine. I can pay for two—”

“Just the one,” Taliesin said. “I doubt they’ll want to spare two on the word of a dragon-slaying bard, and it’ll be at an exorbitant rate.”

He turned out to be correct when later that day they inquired after a steed. All that could be spared was a shaggy pony only just strong enough for two, and it cost a full gold piece just to rent. Without Tabitha’s word as a well-known witch in these parts, they wouldn’t have gotten so much as that, but Rhiannon would take it.

They had to keep moving before Brodrick caught up to her.

Chapter Five

“To think it would throw a shoe here of all places,” Taliesin murmured. The lame pony’s front fetlock was perched on Taliesin’s thigh. In his hand he held the horseshoe in question, covered in sticky mud.

Rhiannon crouched beside him. “Can we fix it?” The shoe was intact. As far as she could tell, they had rescued all the nails from the muck that had sucked it right off the unlucky animal’s foot.

“I have neither the tools nor the knowledge,” sighed Taliesin. “We’ll need a proper blacksmith for this, and until we find one, I don’t think we can ride Espus here.” He wiped his hand off on the grass and then gave the pony a reassuring pat. The horse whinnied and nuzzled his cheek.

From his bag, Taliesin produced a worn map and traced his finger along the parchment until he found their location. He then followed along the road until he reached a dot that he tapped. “If we walk, we could reach the rest stop and continue tomorrow to reach Monsain by sundown.”

“But that’s miles off!”

“It’s not ideal,” he agreed, refolding the map, “but we don’t have much choice. If we’re lucky, we can hitch a ride with a merchant the rest of the way.” Though he feigned confidence in this new plan, both knew it was a long shot. Even with folks chomping at the bit to deliver goods, few would risk it until someone else gave the all clear about the wyvern. “If that fails, they might have a horse we could exchange for. In the worst-case scenario, I could carry you if you get tired, Miss Sofia. It won’t be a problem.”

Rhiannon felt the heat creep into her face. “I’ll be fine, thank you.” It would be difficult, but she knew herself to be in better shape than most royals. Long walks of the grounds had been one of her few means of escape from Brodrick. She could manage it now.

Taliesin nodded and stowed the map. “I’ll do my best to keep up.”

At least the weather was on their side. After a soft morning snowfall, the sun had come out to warm the air and send the icicles in the trees into a dazzling display. A few hours later, the road was freed from the forest, the muddy patches dried out, and the scenery changed into open fields dotted with melting snow. Soon after that, the road became cobbled together brickwork that signaled the approach of the roadside inn. Relief and the promise of a hot meal and cozy bed awaiting them at the next waypoint pushed them to pick up their pace, despite the building still being just a smudge on the horizon ahead of them.

Back toward the forest, Rhiannon’s ears caught the telltale clopping of hooves on cobblestone.

It took her a long moment to realize what she was hearing. The hoofbeats were too fast and heavy to be simple travelers. She turned to glance behind, her heart suddenly pounding in her ears. In that same moment, Taliesin gripped her arm and ushered her quickly to the side of the road.

Huge war chargers bore down on them. Sparks flew from their hooves as they struck the broken brick and cobblestone. Horses screamed and danced as their riders, knights in tabards and chain mail, wrenched back on their reins. Rhiannon kept her eyes downcast and her face hidden in her cloak, but the glimpse of a crest depicting a winged stag was all she’d needed to see. Her instinct had been to run as soon as she saw them, but Taliesin’s hand on her arm, strong but gentle, kept her still.

“You there!” barked their leader. It had only been a little while since she’d last heard Brodrick’s voice. It still cut through her like freezing wind. She tried to hide her shaking. “Have you seen this woman?”

He thrust a sketch of Rhiannon in their faces. The princess kept her head down while Taliesin studied it. “I can’t say I have,” he lied smoothly.

Brodrick’s heavy gaze turned on her. “Who’s this?”

“She’s with me,” Taliesin lied again. “Pray, don’t mind her. She’s cripplingly shy.”

The knight ignored the bard. Voice hard, he commanded, “Lift your head, girl.”

The breath caught in Rhiannon’s throat. Her shaking worsened. Brodrick would recognize her. He would recognize her and drag her back, and she would be powerless to stop him. He could even slay Taliesin for helping her with claims of kidnapping or—

Taliesin caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. The knight frowned. “Are you deaf as well? Lift your head, woman!”

“It’s all right,” whispered Taliesin. “Go ahead, Anna.”

Taliesin didn’t know why these knights were hunting her. Perhaps Brodrick would show him mercy if she gave in now. She took a shaking breath and forced herself to lift her head.

Not a hint of recognition flickered across Brodrick’s countenance. His frown deepened, obviously annoyed with her unwillingness to obey his orders in a timely fashion. His squire called from another horse, “We ought to keep moving. We’ll find her if we keep going toward the—”

Brodrick lifted a hand, silencing him. “If you see that woman,” he said, “turn her in to the local authorities. They’ll know what to do with her.”

“Of course, my lord.” Taliesin swept into a deep bow more befitting of a king than the knight glaring down at them. “But if I may be so bold, what has this woman done?” The bard didn’t flinch as Brodrick fingered his sword for his impertinence. “Should she be a murderess or worse, I would hate to place my partner in danger.”

Brodrick brushed him off with a brusque “That is none of your concern.” He took up his reins once more. Without signaling his companions, he dug his spurs into the sides of his horse. “Yah!” The steed shot off. The others hurried to follow suit.

Finally, Rhiannon felt like she could breathe again, but the relief left her weak and shaky. Her knees buckled. Taliesin caught her elbow and helped her gently to the ground.

“I won’t ask if you’re all right,” he said, “and I won’t ask why.” His gaze followed the knights as they thundered off into the distance. “Might I assume you know that knight?”

“Yes,” Rhiannon choked out.

Taliesin nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off the disappearing group. “Is it safe to also assume that could have gone far worse if he had recognized you?”

She shuddered at the very thought. “Yes, but why didn’t he recognize me?”

The second question had been more to herself than her companion, but Taliesin answered anyway. “I may have used a little trick I picked up from Tabitha.” Then, setting the issue aside, he asked, “Can you stand?”

Rhiannon stared dumbly at him. “You can do magic?”

“A little here and there,” he admitted. “Nothing too spectacular.”

“You’re a warlock?”

Taliesin placed a finger over her lips. “I’m not part of either arcana or anything of that sort,” he explained. “I’m truly just a bard with a few more tricks up his sleeve than average.” He offered his hand, which she didn’t take. Despite his previous words, he asked in concern, “Are you all right? Do you need a moment?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve had a bit of a shock.” Between finding out about Taliesin’s magic and Brodrick’s sudden appearance, frazzled wouldn’t begin to describe her tangled feelings.

“If I were in your shoes, I would be shocked too.” He glanced at where the knights had vanished over the horizon, then knelt so his back faced her. “Here, climb on. I’ll carry you to the waypoint.”

“You don’t have to,” she protested. “Give me a minute. I’ll be able to walk on my own soon.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to. Let me help you.” He beamed at her over his shoulder. “Think of it as my penance for keeping my gift for illusions secret until now.”

A shaky laugh bubbled up. “In your defense, it never came up.”

“True enough, but I could have saved you a lot of worry before if you had known. As such, I will carry you at least part of the way.”

This time she relented. Rhiannon wrapped her arms around his neck, and Taliesin hiked her knees up around his hips. She let out an embarrassed squeak at the touch. He didn’t look back. In return, she refused to look at him. If they had shared a glance, they would have seen matching warmth rapidly creeping into their cheeks. He took up the reins of their pony, and with a click of his tongue, they were on their way.

As they walked, Taliesin hummed a tune for them both, one that eventually gave way to singing. His rich voice wove comforting nostalgia like a blanket around them, and Rhiannon slowly relaxed to the song she’d heard plenty of times as a child. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The melody broke off. “There’s no need to thank me.”

“But you’re doing so much for me.” No one could convince her that the average person could stand before the likes of Sir Brodrick and so easily deny him what he demanded. Taliesin not only lied to the knight’s face but kept his cool so well as to cast magic so subtle that Rhiannon herself hadn’t noticed. “If he finds out you were lying...”

“He won’t find out,” Taliesin promised. “I’ll be here to trick him as many times as we need to.”

Rhiannon clutched at his cloak. “But why would you do that for me?” she pressed. “And don’t say it is so you can write a ballad. The danger is real.”

Taliesin hummed thoughtfully. “What bard would turn down the opportunity to play the hero? At least for a little while. We never get to be the center of the story. This is a refreshing turn of events.”

“That is true. It is not often a bard gets to be at the center of a story,” she agreed.

“Right. And as such, I plan to take full advantage of it,” Taliesin said with a chuckle of his own, and Rhiannon felt her trembling lips beginning to turn into a smile. “Who knows? Maybe generations from now they’ll sing of how I delivered a beautiful princess to her true love right under the villain’s nose.” The girl on his back went rigid. Confused, he asked, “Is something the matter?”

She forced her voice to remain calm and casual. “What makes you think I’m a princess?”

“That’s how all the stories go, isn’t it? It’s always a princess who is forced to marry against her will. Peasant women hope to find princes of their own, but princesses know better and pray for their true love.”

Praying for love? Rhiannon had never dared to allow that for herself. For years, she’d known her fate was to marry a dragon. The best she thought she could hope for was a comfortable, if lonely, existence, nothing more than a new bauble added to a hoard of treasure. At worst...

Well, neither of her possible futures was what bards sang about. It was too ugly, too dark. There would be no love nor a valiant savior waiting to sweep her off her feet. She was a mere prize for a dragon or a beast of a man.

But she could pretend, at least for a little while. She hid her burning face against Taliesin’s back. Maybe having a bard as her knight in shining armor wasn’t so bad an option.

They reached the tavern that served as the halfway point just as the sun began to set behind the distant foothills. Taliesin set Rhiannon back on her feet. “Shall we grab a bite to eat and see if they have a room to spare us for the night? I doubt we’ll be able to get much farther without the moon to guide us.”

Something in her chest fluttered when he offered her his hand. Her earlier imaginings came back with a vengeance and sent her stammering heart into her throat. She silently chided herself and shyly took his hand. He intertwined their fingers, sending her pulse skyrocketing once more.

She couldn’t help but wonder as they headed inside whether his heart had skipped a beat too.

Chapter Six

What woke Rhiannon, she didn’t know. One moment, she was in a dead sleep. The next, she found herself wide awake and sitting up in the pitch blackness of their room. Somewhere on the floor, she could hear Taliesin snoring softly. She couldn’t see him, but having spotted him on brighter nights, she could picture him with his head resting upon his satchel and his violin case tucked against his chest. His steady breathing hadn’t been what woke her.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and peeked through the wooden shutters into the dark night outside. The air was uncannily still, the night eerily silent. Somewhere between the trees on the far side of the road, she saw the swaying light of a lantern. The glow called to her. She could hear a woman beckoning her to come carried on the breeze. The shutters opened seemingly of their own accord. Rhiannon hardly felt the rough wood under her fingertips. She peered through the misty night, leaning out the window for a better look. “What’s...?”

A hand pulled the shutters closed. Rhiannon jumped and backed into a solid chest. Taliesin steadied her with a loose arm around her waist. “Careful,” he whispered as if the lantern bearer outside could hear. “There’s a will-o’-the-wisp out there.”

Baffled, she repeated, “Will-o’-the-wisp?” Rhiannon had heard about those somewhere before, but try as she might, any recollection flowed through her fingers like water.

“They’re a fairy that enjoys getting people lost,” Taliesin explained. “Some are more nefarious than others, so it’s better to avoid them unless you know for sure what it’s like.”

“Do you know many will-o’-the-wisps?”

She couldn’t see his wry smile. “I’ve met more than a few, and I couldn’t in good conscience recommend it. Even the nice ones are a pain to deal with.”

Suddenly more aware of herself and the risk she’d nearly taken following a mysterious fairy, she asked, “Do they often try to lure people from their beds?”

“Occasionally, in out-of-the-way locations. This is a tad too well traveled to be a regular haunt despite the recent wyvern infestation.” Cautiously, he pushed the window shutters open once more to peer out. The wavering glow of the false lantern beckoned. “Curious,” he mused. He leaned out and checked the handful of other windows facing the forest and found all shut and barred. “It’s not trying to lure me or anyone else for that matter. But why only target you?”

Her stomach knotted. “They can target people?”

He barred the shutters again. “It takes a lot more skill than one normally has. We have an experienced wisp on our hands. Rhiannon, can I trust you to stay here while I go investigate?”

“You can’t!” More awake now, she remembered all the stories whispered within the castle walls of will-o’-the-wisps. To try and approach one meant getting lost and never finding the way home, with the light just out of reach. Only death from utter exhaustion awaited the unfortunate victim.

“I appreciate your concern,” he said, “but I’ve dealt with my fair share of the Fair Folk. It bothers me that this one seems to be trying to lure you out. Best to foil whatever plan they have now before they realize it isn’t working.”

Taliesin was right, but that didn’t mean Rhiannon was okay with him going alone. “I’ll come with you.”

“I wouldn’t want you in any danger—”

“It’s dangerous for me to be here by myself,” she reminded him. “What if it gets me outside next time and Sir Brodrick comes back?”

She too had a point. Taliesin weighed their options and reluctantly agreed. “Stay close to me.” He joined their wrists with a worn leather strap that he’d been using to keep his belongings together and neat. “Keep this around your wrist. They’ll have a harder time tricking me, and so long as we’re bound together, you won’t get lost. Should you start feeling the urge to wander or that you don’t know where I am, say something. I’ll be right by your side even if you can’t see me.”

Rhiannon agreed and snagged her cloak on the way out the door.

~*~

The small grove of trees surrounding the inn seemed so much bigger and eerier now. Even with their wrists bound together, Rhiannon clung to the back of Taliesin’s cloak for the extra comfort it provided. “This place is so much different now than during the day.”

Taliesin slowed and searched the growing fog. “It’s not so different,” he replied. “This is part of the wisp’s illusion. Seems it’s caught on to me being here too. It shouldn’t be a problem.” He led the way through a particularly dense patch away from the light.

“Shouldn’t we follow the light?”

“That’s what the wisp wants. The best way to catch up to them is to go the opposite direction.”

She squeezed through a gap between trees after him. Somehow, he didn’t have the same trouble she did. “What will we do when we catch up?”

“Ask which court they’re from. If it’s Seelie, we’ll want to speak to its ruler. If it’s Unseelie, we let it off with a warning and hightail it out of there.”

“Is the Unseelie Court so scary?” She had heard tales, of course, but many of the stories could have been told of Seelie courts as well. The former spirited folks away and left changelings in the open, but that didn’t mean the latter weren’t up to the same tricks. One simply didn’t interact with the Fae if one could help it, regardless of the court involved.

“They aren’t scary so much as troublesome. The Unseelie courts aren’t exactly fond of humans that can use magic, not that they’re fond of anyone.” There was something else, too—something that flitted across his face, though he didn’t give it voice. He guided her around a rather deep puddle that opened up just in front of him. “Judging by these harmless pranks, I’m guessing they’re Seelie or unaffiliated.”

A branch above them cracked and swung down, making Rhiannon jump. She stuck even closer to him after that.

No matter how far they traveled, they didn’t seem to put any distance between them and the light behind them. On the contrary, it crept closer. She glanced over her shoulder at it. Taliesin threaded his fingers with hers and gave her hand a light squeeze. “It’s a reflection,” he explained. “The fairy is casting a light that reflects on the fog. That’s why you never catch up if you follow it.”

“I would have thought the explanation more magical than an optical illusion.”

Taliesin chuckled. “Never underestimate a fairy, but don’t overestimate them either. It would require a lot more magic than the average wisp possesses to do more than mess with your perception.”

He stopped, and Rhiannon walked into his back. She glanced up at him only to find her wrist attached to a tree. “Taliesin?” She searched the mist. “Taliesin? Where are you?” He’d warned her this might happen, but being forewarned did nothing to assuage the panic bubbling up inside her. “Taliesin!”

Something slimy and scaly patted her head. She screamed. “It’s all right,” whispered a voice she couldn’t recognize. “Close your eyes.” Fear surged through her. Would this be the moment that separated her from her sanity? From Taliesin?

“Shh, it’s all right,” soothed the voice. Something familiarly musical crept in at the edges of its harsh grating. “I promised to protect you, didn’t I?”

Trembling, she did so. That something that had patted her head pulled her closer against the rough, gnarled bark of the tree. In the darkness, she heard a whistled tune as if from far away. The something stroked her hair, and slowly, the talons combing through her brown locks softened to human fingers. The scent of moss and damp leaves changed to soap as the bark became a linen shirt. The whistled tune grew closer and closer until it emanated just above her head.

“Can you see me now?”

Rhiannon lifted her tear-streaked face to find Taliesin’s smile in the darkness. “Yes.”

“Good.” He gave her head another pat. “I think that was the wisp’s last resort. It can’t have too much left to throw at us.”

It certainly seemed that way. The vast forest had shrunk, and the fog dissipated to a watery mist that settled in the grass and soaked into Rhiannon’s boots as they walked. She swore she heard crickets chirping around them, but that was absurd. “It’s too early for crickets,” she murmured.

“It means we’re getting close to the Court,” Taliesin explained. “The Fae lands don’t run on the same schedule as the human world.”

Unsettled, Rhiannon asked, “We’ve gone beyond the veil?”

“I think so.” He scanned the trees around them. “We’re not near an Unseelie Court at least. Things would be much more unsettling if we were.”

Ahead, the trees thinned and relinquished them to a clearing lit by beautiful glass sconces. Here, the leaves sparkled with a silver light all their own, and the full moon shone from above. Men and women in glittering costumes danced at the center while others hung back at the sides drinking and making merry. The ones that looked human were achingly beautiful while the less human were equal parts ethereal and terrifying. Smaller pixies zipped about on butterfly and dragonfly wings while gnomes dodged the taller revelers to reach tables laden with food and drink.

Surveying all this on the crystalline throne was a young child dressed in a splendor of silks awash in the hues of the setting sun. Her rose-colored hair cascaded loose from beneath a spray of gold and silver flowers arranged into a crown atop her head. The girl beckoned them closer. “Taliesin,” she purred, “it’s been too long. We hope our wisp didn’t get you too lost on your way?”

He bowed deeply to the girl. “Not at all, Your Majesty, although I do find it curious how it tried to lure my companion into the fog.”

“Ah yes, we were curious about her,” said the Seelie Queen. Though she spoke the common tongue, the accent of ancient Fae magic rang through every word. “It’s not often a human woman catches the eye of one such as yourself. We wished to see if you would notice her missing sooner than when we had borrowed your violin.”

Taliesin sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t tease my companion so,” he admonished. “She isn’t an instrument.”

The child’s lips curved into a smile. “We can see that, but that still does not answer our question. We wish to know if she is but a companion or something more.”

“Then I will save you the effort. She is but a companion. I’ve promised to escort her safely to meet her lover.”

“That saddens us. We think you are rather cute together.”

Taliesin coughed. Pink tinged his cheeks. “Please do not tease, Your Majesty.”

“We are not teasing,” she corrected. “We are merely stating the truth.” The Seelie Queen turned to her court and switched to the fairy language. “Is that not so, friends?” Polite applause joined the whoops and hollers of the less refined creatures.

Taliesin straightened. “If that is all, then we shall take our leave—”

The queen held up a hand. “Stay,” she implored. “Play for us. Sing for us. We have missed your music.”

“I’m afraid we must decline. I need to escort my companion back to the inn.”

She tutted. “Any companion of yours is more than welcome to join us. In fact, we would love to play with her and dress her in jewels and silks fit for a queen.” The Seelie Queen stood. “Yes, she must join us. We want to enjoy her company.”

Rhiannon dipped into a deep curtsy at Taliesin’s side. “I couldn’t possibly accept,” Rhiannon said. “I wouldn’t want to put you through so much trouble on my account.”

“It would be no trouble at all,” the queen said with a giggle. She stepped down from the dais and took Rhiannon’s hand. She had seemed so small in the chair, but now Rhiannon had to crane her neck to look the stately figure in the face. “You forget who you stand before. Spin for us.”

The Seelie Queen twirled Rhiannon then, and a shower of sparks rained over the princess’s head. Everywhere the glittering lights touched glowed and changed until she no longer wore a cloak over her nightgown. She now wore a gown finer than any she’d ever laid eyes upon, seemingly woven from starlight and rose petals. Gloves of luxurious silk wrapped her arms. A tiara of pearls crowned her head, and slippers of pure silver glittered on her feet. Her hair, too, had been wound with dozens of dazzling gemstones. A choker of diamonds hugged her throat and sprays of gems dangled from her ears.

The queen nodded to herself. “You look lovely,” she declared. “Fitting for our Taliesin.”

“Your Majesty...” Taliesin began, only for the queen to ignore him and lead Rhiannon to tables laden with a feast.

“Might we bring you a beverage?” cooed the queen. Rhiannon blinked. One moment, the queen was taller than her. The next, she was a little girl again. “Or some cake? I know! How about some spiced cider?”

“Your Majesty...” repeated Taliesin behind them.

The girl continued to ignore him. She poured a goblet and held it out to Rhiannon. “Here! Have some!”

Rhiannon accepted the goblet and took a tentative sip. The sweet and cinnamony taste filled her mouth as she expected, but there was more to it. A floral flavor, and something more she couldn’t describe that melted on her tongue. She pressed her hand to her lips. The queen grinned. “I take it that you find it acceptable?”

“It’s delicious. Thank you.”

“Would you care to join us for more?” Rhiannon nodded. “Wonderful.” Finally, the queen paid the bard some attention. “See? Your companion would like to join us for the festivities. Perhaps you will play for us now?”

Taliesin shook his head. “You are a tricky one, Your Highness. Very well, I shall play my best for all of you.” He gave a deep bow and opened the case Rhiannon only now realized he’d lugged all this way.

Around them became a flurry of colorful flowers as the Fair Folk danced and sang to the tune of Taliesin’s violin. He picked up the tempo, his bow practically sawing at the strings as the fairies whirled about. Rhiannon clapped along, smiling and laughing with the beautiful creatures eating and drinking at her side. A few of the smaller Fae poured a goblet, and two held the beverage up to her. She knelt to take it, but another hand snatched it before she could accept the offering.

Taliesin sipped the wine and pulled a face. “This might be a little strong for you,” he warned as he passed it back to her. “Don’t let them bully you into overindulging.”

“We don’t bully,” squawked the little birdlike creature that had been part of the pair. “We offer and folks accept.”

“And if they don’t, we ask over and over until they accept,” snickered the pixie now perched on her shoulder.

“I’ll be careful,” Rhiannon promised. She wasn’t much for drinking anyway. She’d learned by watching others that too much could and would lead to trouble.

After the first sip, however, Rhiannon saw that it would be a difficult promise to keep. The fairy wine was sweet like juice and had floral notes that sang of spring. She tasted no alcohol, yet it warmed her from the first swallow. A pleasant buzz bubbled in her veins.

Though concerned, Taliesin returned to playing at the insistence of the fairy queen. His voice rang throughout the hall. It made Rhiannon dizzy...or was that the wine? His voice always made her feel far away and floaty. She took another sip of her drink, and then another. When her goblet emptied, her tiny companions refilled it.

While the music danced around them, someone knelt before her. She blinked up at a handsome face. “Care to dance?” asked the stranger. Rhiannon hesitated. She’d never been particularly good, but when her only partner had been...been... Her brow scrunched in mild confusion. Who had she always partnered with? It had been someone she disliked, she knew, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember anything about that unpleasant person. Not his face, nor his voice, nor the reason she detested his company.

Seeing as the gentleman still waited for an answer, she blushed and mumbled, “Sure.” No sooner did she place her hand in his did he pull her up, and the world swam. She fell forward into his chest. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“It’s quite all right.” The face seemed to blur, and when the haze cleared, a different one replaced it. Rhiannon blinked a few times. Surely, she was seeing things. He hardly noticed. “Shall we?”

He led her to the center of the clearing, and she couldn’t take her eyes off his face as it swirled and changed. Dark hair replaced what had once been blond—she was sure of it. The gray-blue eyes tinted green. It looked familiar.

The gentleman spun her around and around. Laughter twinkled in the air about her. Rhiannon wobbled on unsteady legs, dizzier and dizzier. She fell against the gentleman’s chest when she stumbled. He smiled down at her. “You seem tired. Shall we find someplace more comfortable for you to rest?”

He tried to lead her away from the party toward the trees among which other couples vanished. Ahead she could hear giggles and flirtatious cooing, and Rhiannon found herself suddenly frightened. She wasn’t supposed to leave. Someone had asked her to stay here with him. She wanted to stay with that person. Rhiannon tried to pull away, but the gentleman held firm. She stumbled again.

“Let me go!” she cried. He ignored her. Desperate, she slapped at him, only to miss his cheek and hit his shoulder.

“There’s no need to be shy,” said the gentleman. “I’ll take good care of you.”

A hand caught her by the wrist. “There you are.” Taliesin smiled down at her. His other hand pried the stranger’s tight fingers away from her delicate wrist. “I’ve been looking for you.”

The gentleman’s lip pulled back in a snarl. Any illusion of the friendly face so much like Taliesin’s vanished. “She’s mine.”

“She doesn’t belong to anyone,” Taliesin replied mildly. “I would appreciate you not trying to force the lady into circumstances she doesn’t wish.”

“I’m her perfect match.” With each passing moment, the gentleman looked less and less human. Rhiannon drew back. Her back hit Taliesin’s chest. “Come with me,” he cooed. It did little to rescue his image in her mind. “I’ll show you a lovely night.”

Shaking and suddenly sober, Rhiannon said, “I-I can’t. I want to stay here.” Her eyes darted about, searching for the Seelie Queen to come to her and Taliesin’s rescue.

Taliesin wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder. “You heard the lady.”

The fairy gentleman’s inhuman eyes narrowed as he stared at Taliesin. Then he made a guttural noise that sent a chill through Rhiannon. “If you change your mind, just say the word and I will spirit you away from this mutt.” He spun on his heel and stalked off.

Rhiannon’s knees went weak, and Taliesin caught her once more. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “You’re all right.” But she couldn’t stop shaking. It had been so much like earlier with Brodrick. So much like every minute she’d had to spend time with that knight. She’d forgotten. She’d forgotten him and the lapse in judgment had almost...almost...

Taliesin helped her back to the tables laden with food and drink. He poured another goblet of the spiced cider and held it to her lips. “Drink,” he coaxed gently. “You’ll feel better if you do.”

Rhiannon sipped the spiced drink. The spreading warmth did little to soothe her. She forced a tight smile. “Thank you.”

The little quivers of anxiety didn’t escape his notice. “There’s no need to thank me.” Taliesin led her to the soft grass the other party guests had gathered upon to rest and gossip. “I only did what anyone ought to have done.”

“Most wouldn’t,” she noted bitterly. Not without want of a reward, and even then, only if they thought they would succeed. No one succeeded with Sir Brodrick around.

“I promised you, didn’t I?” Taliesin replied gently. He traced a thumb along her cheek, wiping away tears. When had she started crying? “I won’t allow any harm to come to you.”

Rhiannon pulled away. He let her retreat. “But what if you got hurt?”

“The Fair Folk here hardly scare me.”

“What about knights?”

“Knights don’t scare me much either,” he replied. “You’re safe with me. I promise.”

Rhiannon laughed quietly, scrubbing at her cheeks with the heel of her palm. When she thought she had the tears somewhat under control, she sniffled and picked up her goblet of cider once again for another sip. The hot liquid warmed her belly. Rhiannon swayed where she stood.

Taliesin took the goblet from her with a frown and sipped at it himself. Again, he made a face. “Sorry,” he said, “I seem to be failing at protecting you right now.” More to himself than Rhiannon he muttered crossly, “When did they swap the cider for alcohol?”

“There’s no alcohol in that,” chimed the tiny pixie from before. Then with a wicked grin, he added, “There is some heart beet juice in it, however.”

“Heart beet?” Taliesin groaned as he set the goblet aside. “Do you fairies plan for these situations?”

“What’s heartbeat juice?” Rhiannon slurred. She frowned, mildly confused.

“It’s a common component for love potions,” Taliesin explained. “It doesn’t affect fairies and such, but it can make humans feel drunk and, well, like they’re in love. Its effects are worsened when combined with alcohol like wine, but it can’t make you feel things that aren’t there in the first place. You should be fine if you—”

His eyes widened when Rhiannon leaned against him. “Miss Sofia?”

“I want to stay close to you for some reason,” murmured Rhiannon sleepily.

“That would be the wine and juice talking,” he said gently. “Get some rest. I’ll take you back to the inn when you’ve sobered up a little, all right?”

Rhiannon shook her head. “I don’t want to go back.”

“We’ll have to eventually,” he pointed out. “Most of our things are still there.”

“But if we go back, then we’ll have to keep traveling, and if we keep traveling...” She shook her head. “I’ll get to the end of our journey.”

Taliesin tilted her chin up. “I would rather our journey didn’t end either,” he said, “but someone is waiting for you.” He released her, but Rhiannon snagged his hand and held it to her cheek. He chuckled sadly. “If you do things like that, it makes it harder.”

Rhiannon surged up to capture Taliesin’s lips. Surprised, he went still before melting into her. His lips tasted sweet like the cider they’d been drinking, and the way they moved against hers made her dizzier than the wine. Her fingers dug into his shirt for want of something to hold on to. She needed to keep him close so he wouldn’t pull away. When his lips parted from hers, she chased them.

Strong arms wrapped around her and held her close. She leaned into his touch. The world around them grew hazy with his murmured reassurances and gentle stroking of her hair. Her hands fell away with the sudden drowsiness that overwhelmed her. Taliesin said something she barely understood. Sapphires glittered in the diffuse lights of the fairy party. Gold met her blurry gaze when he lifted her from the grass.

Maybe it was the wine, but with her head resting against his chest and her eyes closed, she felt like she was flying. Cool wind tickled her face, and then she knew no more until sunlight streamed through the window.

Confused, Rhiannon rubbed sleep from her eyes. When had they returned to their room at the inn? She frowned. Or maybe she hadn’t left at all and had dreamed everything? Heat flooded her cheeks. If that were the case, then what about the part where she kissed Taliesin? Had it been real? Her imagination? Either way, how was she supposed to face him?

The door to their shared room opened, and Rhiannon dove under the covers to hide her embarrassment. Taliesin blew the bangs from his eyes. “I want to apologize for last night,” he began. “Wine or no, I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I don’t know what came over me.”

So it wasn’t a dream. She stammered, “It’s all right. I didn’t mind.”

“Whether you minded or not,” Taliesin insisted, head bowed, “it was still wrong of me to do so.”

“We were both drunk. And I started it...”

“Please don’t make excuses for me. It only makes me feel worse for allowing that situation to happen in the first place and letting it escalate the way it did.” He combed back his tousled bangs. “I’m glad you don’t hate me for it, at least.”

Rhiannon peeked out from under the covers. “I don’t hate you,” she said. “I could never hate you.”

They shared a look, something slowly unspooling between them. Rhiannon opened her mouth to say more, but just as quickly, Taliesin averted his gaze.

“Then if you are amicable to it, please allow me to escort you to your destination.”

Her heart sank. “Right. My destination.”

What had unspooled between them frayed to nothing, just like the words that could now never be spoken.

Chapter Seven

In some ways, the Witch City of Magia was exactly what Rhiannon had expected. In others, it absolutely blew her mind. Broomsticks and magic carpets zipped around overhead, and statues and posters not only moved but spoke. Each street seemed made of a different stone painted in colors Rhiannon had never seen before, and no two of the buildings towering over them or floating in the sky were alike. Semiprecious stones glowed within the streetlamps lining the thoroughfares, casting the world in a constantly changing rainbow.

Some of these magical innovations she knew from her home in the capital city, but many more caught her eye in shop windows or hanging from the eaves.

“This is amazing,” she breathed as she took it all in.

Taliesin smiled as he took her hand. “It is,” he agreed, “but try not to get lost. This place is difficult enough for natives to navigate if they don’t have a broom. I would hate to see just how troublesome it is for a visitor.”

“Did Lady Tabitha teach you the trick to it?” Rhiannon asked curiously. “Navigating this city, I mean.” Taliesin chuckled at the idea, but neither confirmed nor denied it.

Wherever they walked, Rhiannon caught surprised looks cast in their direction. Taliesin would wave to this person or that. More than once, they were pulled into a lengthy conversation with a witch wanting to tease Taliesin about his lovely tagalong or a warlock wishing to know more about how they met. He took these interruptions in stride and gently corrected them as best he could. A few even asked him what he was doing on the ground when he could easily carry his lovely bride about. These questions he redirected to safer subjects before bidding them a quick farewell.

By the time the sun vanished behind gilded buildings with diamond windows glittering in the golden light, it seemed to Rhiannon that Taliesin must have greeted half the city. At least they’d reached their destination, a homely-by-comparison wooden house painted with splashes of shifting watercolors. Taliesin knocked and, without waiting for an answer, entered.

The parlor inside burst with countless magical devices and books. Rhiannon’s mouth fell open as she took it all in. Astrolabes made of a silvery blue metal rested atop stacks of dusty books so tall they might tip at any moment. A metronome ticked away the seconds while a miniature galaxy rotated within something resembling an oversized snow globe.

Taliesin threw his cloak over the hatstand and offered to do the same for Rhiannon. While he hung hers up with more care, he called into the house, “Arthur! Are you in?”

A boy with a sandy-colored mop for hair peeked down the narrow staircase. “Bloody hell, is that you, Taliesin?” The teen slid down the banister and leaped to his feet for a perfect landing. “Welcome back! It’s been too long!” He waved a hand, and a collection of dishes flew from the shelf to the table in the kitchen for three place settings. “If you’re here for Lady Gertrude, she’s already gone for the next few months.”

“Gone?” repeated Taliesin. “What do you mean, gone?”

“It’s that time of the year.” Arthur strolled to the kitchen and waved his hands. Ingredients plopped onto the cutting board, and kitchen knives chopped of their own accord. “Check this out! I’ve finally mastered movement magic!” A couple of the cubed potatoes dropped short of the pot. “Whoops...”

“You’re getting the hang of it,” Taliesin observed. “Where did she say she was going again?”

Arthur stared up at him. “You’re kidding. Did you really forget about—” He cut himself off, glancing in Rhiannon’s direction. He stood on tiptoe and hid his mouth with a raised hand to hiss meaningfully, “It’s the season.”

Shoot. Taliesin had been so caught up in his own worries that he forgot the date. “Isn’t it early for that?” he whispered back.

“A little, but Lady Gertrude said she could feel it in her bones that Lord Spinel would need her sooner rather than later.” He glanced again at Rhiannon and back. “Um, does she know about, erm, Lady Gertrude’s...”

“She doesn’t,” Taliesin confirmed. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Rhiannon had done her best to ignore their private conversation out of politeness, but she couldn’t help but wonder about the strange way they spoke about this Lady Gertrude. Soon, though, her attention was fully captured by the shelves packed full of books. Rather, she couldn’t help but study them once she’d seen the titles. Of the leatherbound books that had text embossed on the spines, many included a single word prominently: Dragon.

This book was on dragon habitats, that one on dragon eating habits. She slid one about dragon behavior from the shelf and flipped through the pages. The author was the Dragon Witch. Every single one, in fact, had been penned by this very same witch. Surprised, Rhiannon replaced the one in her hand with another, over and over until she’d exhausted the supply of dragon-related tomes. Only a handful hadn’t been researched and written by the Dragon Witch herself, but even these listed her among those consulted.

Taliesin watched her from over her shoulder. “Are you particularly interested in dragons?”

Rhiannon jumped and slammed the book she held—one on dragon history—closed. “A passing interest,” she lied. “You don’t often see this many books on the topic. Is the, er, Lady Gertrude particularly interested?”

“She’s an expert,” Arthur called from the kitchen. “Best in her field. Why do you ask?”

“Oh?” Rhiannon looked back at the book in her hand. “Wait, Lady Gertrude wouldn’t happen to be the Dragon Witch, would she?”

“The very same,” Taliesin replied. “If I’d known you were interested in dragons, I’d have sent a message on ahead so you could have met her. It seems she’s gone for the foreseeable future.”

“Ah, no, I’m not interested enough to bother her,” Rhiannon said. “But might I ask why you wanted to visit?”

“Well, you see...the Lady Gertrude is my mother,” he admitted, his voice tinged with embarrassment. “We were passing nearby with our traveling to the mountains, so I figured I ought to stop and say hello. Mother always lectures me for not visiting often enough, but I seem to have timed it poorly.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. “Your mother is the Dragon Witch?”

Taliesin smiled sheepishly. “I’m afraid so. She’s quite a legend, isn’t she? It seems everyone’s heard of her thanks to that incident concerning Her Highness. I don’t know how true the rumors are—whether she extracted that particular promise from His Majesty or not.”

“Is she the type of person who would do that?”

He sighed. “Sadly, yes. She probably wouldn’t have gotten involved in an armed conflict, though. That bit could be exaggerated.”

“Yeah, that would be a bit much, even for Lady Gertrude,” Arthur said, making Rhiannon jump. When had he joined them? “Anyway, since you came all this way, you might as well stay for dinner. I’m making something curried.” His gaze twinkled conspiratorially at Taliesin before smiling at Rhiannon. “I hope you like spicy.”

“Oh, we couldn’t possibly intrude,” Rhiannon said, shaking her head. “You weren’t expecting us, and it must be difficult cooking for two more people on such short notice.”

“Not for an apprentice warlock!” Arthur declared proudly. “I need to practice my spells anyway. You two wait here. It’ll be ready in a jiffy.” He vanished back into the kitchen, waving his hand to rescue those potatoes he’d dropped earlier.

“He probably wants the company,” Taliesin said, scanning the bookshelf Rhiannon had been looking through. “I think he’s been a bit bored on his own.” He took a particularly beat-up book from the shelf. The title read: Simple Spells and Potions: An Everyday Guide to the Extraordinary. “I’m surprised she still has this,” he murmured more to himself.

“What is it?”

“A workbook she had me learn from as a child.” He flipped through it. This potion or that stained each page. “I’m afraid I was a bit of a disappointment. I don’t have much talent despite my lineage. A little illusion magic and some music-based spells. Nothing more than the average bard can claim.”

Rhiannon was still impressed. “I doubt the average bard could manage that much.” Most people didn’t have a lick of magical talent, let alone those who decided to devote their lives to music and stories. While she’d seen one or two with sleight-of-hand mastered, none before Taliesin had real magical ability.

“Your kind words mean a lot,” he said with a smile. “Now shall we join Arthur in the kitchen? While I don’t doubt his abilities, I do worry that some potion or other has been left out that we’ll want to keep an eye on.”

By the time they entered the kitchen, the food was already dishing itself up for them. Generous helpings of the curry slopped themselves in bowls that Arthur waved toward the table. Despite Taliesin’s joke, no stray bottles or jars appeared to have been left out to accidentally be mixed in.

“I didn’t introduce myself before,” said the teenaged boy to Rhiannon, “but I’m Arthur, Dragon Witch Gertrude’s apprentice. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?”

“Sofia,” Rhiannon lied. It had taken some time, but every day the false name became easier to claim as her own. “It’s nice to meet you too, Arthur.”

The apprentice warlock blinked. “Sofia?” he repeated, sounding a little confused. He glanced to Taliesin, who subtly shook his head. He smoothed his perplexed expression over with a bright smile. “That’s a pretty name. Where are you from?”

“The capital.”

He was duly impressed. “Wow! That’s so far away! Taliesin, what were you doing in the capital?”

“Work. What else?” Taliesin pushed aside the various root vegetables in his dish and popped a chunk of meat into his mouth. Arthur gave him an unamused frown, and Taliesin quietly scooped a few abandoned carrots to appease their host. “We happened to be going the same way, so I offered to escort her.”

Not quite true, but Rhiannon went along with it. “He’s been a lot of help. I don’t think I would have made it this far without him.”

“Really?” Arthur smirked at Taliesin. “Sounds like you’ve been busy.”

“I already got all this from Tabitha,” Taliesin said with a yawn. “Unless you have something original, kindly drop it.”

“Aw, okay.” Arthur picked at his dinner for a moment. “Are you together?”

“Drop it, Arthur.”

“But seriously,” he insisted. “Are you two—”

“She has a fiancé,” Taliesin said, “and a lover she’s meeting up with to escape said fiancé.”

“Eh? You serious?” Arthur looked between the pair. “But there’s got to be something going on between you two, right?”

Taliesin sighed. “Arthur, it’s not like that.”

“Then why’d you bring her to Magia?”

Come to think of it, why had Taliesin brought her here? Rhiannon had been so preoccupied with her own troubles and the fantastical magic around her that she hadn’t stopped to question it. It couldn’t be just a detour for a simple visit, could it?

“Because it’s on the way to our destination, and I had a question for your teacher.”

“What about?” Arthur asked. “Maybe I can help.”

“Nothing so important that it can’t wait.” His eyes darted quickly to Rhiannon and back.

Anxiety sat heavy in her stomach. A question for the Dragon Witch. Had Taliesin figured out her real reason for traveling? Had he put together who she really was? Was he trying to rescue her without worrying her?

Rhiannon quietly set down her spoon. “Sorry,” she murmured, “could I ask you where the—?”

“Down the hall, second door on the right,” Arthur replied, pointing. “Lady Gertrude’s got it enchanted so that it’s bigger on the inside. Don’t be too surprised by it.”

Having experienced Merlin firsthand, Rhiannon had become strangely accustomed to houses doing as they pleased or ignoring the natural laws of the world. “Thank you.” She hurried away to splash some water on her face and give them a few minutes without her presence.

~*~

Arthur waved cheerily until she’d vanished around the corner. His hand dropped. “What’s up?”

“Mother hasn’t been playing with love charms, has she?” Taliesin asked point-blank.

The apprentice pulled a face. “No way. Those things are vile. Why do you...?” He trailed off. “Wait, you don’t think Lady Gertrude enchanted you, do you?”

“It’s the only explanation I have.” Taliesin blew the bangs from his eyes. “I’m not interested in others, but she’s...” He shook his head. “I kissed her the other day. We had fairy cider, and—”

“Maybe the Fair Folk were messing with you. They tend to like their heart beet juice.”

“You know as well as I do that that has no effect on me.”

“Then something stronger?”

“The Seelie Queen doesn’t normally play with that kind of magic.”

“Oh, that court.” Arthur drummed his fingers on the wooden table. “Ever think you just like her? I mean, she is pretty cute, and she seems sweet. Maybe she just does it for you. Or hey, maybe your lizard brain’s going off and she’s your true mate or something.”

Taliesin groaned. “Not helping, Arthur.”

“Just calling it how I see it,” Arthur replied. Then he added, “She’s lying about her name, you know. I can’t tell what it really is, but I can tell she’s lying.”

“I’ve known that for a while. I suspect it’s so her fiancé can’t track her down.”

Arthur hummed. “Is she really on her way to meet a lover? She looked embarrassed when you brought it up before.”

“She’s shy,” Taliesin insisted. “It’s possible the person we’re meeting is someone her father doesn’t approve of, considering he tried to engage her to someone else.”

“Oof. That’s rough. You probably don’t want to get involved with that, then. Most dads wouldn’t be too thrilled with a bard for a son-in-law, and with your lineage to boot.”

Taliesin heard Rhiannon’s return before Arthur could spot her. He gave a subtle signal to drop the subject and returned to his meal. Arthur nodded and carried his empty bowl to the sink. “Can I get you guys any more of anything?”

“No. Thank you, though.” Rhiannon sat down and took another bite. “This is quite tasty. Could I trouble you to know what is in it?”

“Sure. There’s a recipe in one of the cookbooks around here somewhere...” Arthur gestured vaguely around the room. “You know what? I’ll dig it up for you later.”

While he scrubbed at the bowl, he asked politely, “Do you often cook, Miss Sofia?”

“I’ve baked a few pies and the like, but never a whole meal. I wouldn’t mind learning.”

“Then this is a pretty good place to start. Other than measuring the spices, it’s straightforward and there’s lots of wriggle room. It’s sooo much easier than baking or potion making.” All at once, Arthur’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah!” He turned to Taliesin. “Speaking of potions, Lady Gertrude said she made one that I was supposed to drop off for Bellflower, but since you’re here, maybe you can do it. She said something about the slugs in the garden?”

“When did Bells...?” Taliesin shook his head. “Never mind. She has her ways. Sure, I’ll pass it along for her.”

“Great! Let me go get it before I forget.” He wiped the suds from his hands on a towel and hurried out of the room.

Rhiannon smiled. “He seems quite busy,” she observed.

“My mother is rough on apprentices,” Taliesin explained. “She’s a good teacher and doesn’t push too hard, but she’s always forgetting this or that or foisting tasks off on other people.”

“Ah, like delivering potions?”

“You’ve got the idea.” Taliesin picked up his empty plate and, noticing Rhiannon’s half-eaten supper, asked, “Are you feeling all right?”

She blinked. “Oh, um, yes. I just have a lot to think about.” She fiddled with the tip of her braid. “I wish I could have met the Lady Gertrude.”

“Why is that?”

“She seems like an interesting person.”

“She is,” Taliesin agreed, “if a bit much. If you thought Tabitha was exhausting, my mother is doubly so.”

Rhiannon giggled and stood to follow Taliesin with the remains of her unfinished dinner. “Then she sounds like a treat to be around.”

Taliesin took her bowl with him to the sink. “Pray you never meet her. She’ll talk your ear off and then some.” He set the dishes in the sink and then opened a cupboard. Inside, he found a chiffon cake, just as he expected. “Care for some dessert?”

“Won’t your mother miss it?”

“This cabinet always has sweets,” Taliesin replied as he opened another cabinet for the appropriate plates and forks. “She has a spell on it so it produces cakes and pies on its own. Admittedly not the greatest for your health, but once in a while it’s fine to splurge.”

Arthur returned with a large piece of parchment. His expression brightened considerably on seeing the dessert in Taliesin’s hand. “Ooh! It’s cake today? It’s been spitting puddings for the last week.”

“Magic takes a lot of energy,” Taliesin added as he set the cake stand and plates on the table and went to retrieve a knife. “Do you know if there’s any jam for our cake?”

Eager for sweets, Arthur yanked open another cabinet and retrieved a jar of orange marmalade. From another, he selected sweet cream already whipped to a perfect peak. Taliesin cut the cake. He passed a slice to Rhiannon first, and the next to Arthur. He did not, however, procure one for himself. Rather, he busied himself brewing a pot of herbal tea.

By the time tea and cake were finished, the hour had grown late. Taliesin offered to ready some rooms, and with her head already nodding, Rhiannon couldn’t refuse. Tucked into her bed, Rhiannon waited until the quiet of the night had seeped into the house before slipping out of bed. Silent as a mouse, she padded down the stairs to the bookshelf. Forewarned would be forearmed, she thought as she slipped a book on dragon behavior off the shelf. She could give it back to Taliesin before she met the dragon.

That was assuming they reached the mountains the dragon called home without Brodrick finding them.

And assuming the dragon didn’t come for her first.

Rhiannon took a deep breath and opened the book to its first page.

Chapter Eight

The mountains before them held Rhiannon transfixed. This must have been her first time seeing such majestic peaks up close. Even miles off on the horizon, the mountains towered over them and the shaggy pony Rhiannon rode. Once they’d found someone to fix its thrown shoe, their steed had been right as rain.

Taliesin found the craggy, imposing landscape comforting, like coming home. He smiled to himself as he smelled the familiar air, thinking of the crystal-clear waterfalls and streams, then launched into another tale he thought might bolster Rhiannon’s mood.

Eventually the passersby, already few and far between, dwindled to nothing, and Rhiannon felt the need to ask, “Do people not travel through the Storm Bearer’s Pass?”

“Ever since those rumors of the dragon that lives here got out, people try to avoid it if they can. Going by sea takes longer, but it’s far less harrowing than the mountains in winter.” Taliesin looked at her with some concern. “Will you and your gentleman friend be all right? While we’ve had a mild winter, even I dare not pass through until the spring rains have finished.”

“I’ll be fine.” The reassurance came out uncertain.

Taliesin noted the singular rather than plural. He let it slide for now. He’d suspected for some time that this lover of hers didn’t exist. When they arrived at the pass, he would offer to escort her through, and then to anywhere she wanted to go on the other side of the mountains. If she had no destination in mind, well, that suited his life of wandering just as well. And even if she had a place to settle, he’d be happy to remain at her side. From the beginning, he’d wanted to stay with her until he knew her to be truly safe, and now...

Now his heart ached at the thought of being without her.

This pang of sadness was a new feeling. Taliesin had been a lone traveler for so long, enjoying the brief connections he found in each town and city he passed through. The thought of abandoning his solitude on the open road should’ve shocked him.

Yet traveling with “Sofia” was different, somehow. Despite the trials and looming dangers, he’d enjoyed having her at his side, being the first to wish him a good morning and the last to tell him good night. Banter felt natural, and their companionable silences comfortable. He admired her bravery and determination. Her presence didn’t tire him the way his many friendly acquaintances and family could. The thought of losing that—of losing her—stung more than he’d expected.

Rhiannon dismounted as soon as they reached the foothills, rousing Taliesin from his distracted thoughts. With a curtsy, she said, “You’ve done more than enough for me. I can make it the rest of the way on my own.”

“I must politely decline,” Taliesin replied. “I will deliver you either into your lover’s hands or through the pass. Between the outlaws and animals that call these mountains home, it’s too dangerous for a lovely maiden on her own. I can’t in good conscience allow you to make the journey without someone there with you.”

Rhiannon shook her head. “You can’t come with me. You’ll get hurt.”

“I promised you that I would keep you from harm,” he reminded her. “I am a man of my word, fairy tongue or no.”

“You said only until we reach the pass. We’re here. You are freed from your promise. I release you.”

He bowed. “Then I will remain by your side until I know you are safe entirely of my own free will. Please, Miss Sofia. Allow me to escort you safely through the pass.”

“I’m not going through Storm Bearer’s Pass!”

His head jerked up. “You’re not? But I thought—”

“I lied.” She trembled under his steady gaze. “I never intended to go through the pass. It’s true that I came here to meet a prior fiancé, but they aren’t human. The dragon—”

Taliesin stopped her there. Finally, it all came together. He’d suspected after her interest in his mother’s collection... No, if he were being honest, he’d wondered even before that. He looked her in the eye and finally said the realization he’d been avoiding for so long.

“You’re the princess, aren’t you? Princess Rhiannon, the one promised to marry the dragon of Storm Bearer’s Peak.”

Her voice nearly failed her. “Yes.”

Why was he so pleased to hear that there was no other lover waiting for her? He shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t feel anything for her at all. And yet...he shook his head. “Then I have some news that might make you feel better.”

“What is that?”

He swept into the deep, dramatic bow of a professional performer. “I am the dragon of these mountains.”

~*~

Rhiannon stared at him. Her mouth fell open. Slowly, she shook her head from side to side. “I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but I must insist that you don’t spin this tale further. I need to meet with the dragon of the Peak for the sake of my kingdom.”

“I’m not spinning a tale,” he asserted, not lifting his head from his deep bow. “My full title is the Bard Warlock Taliesin, dragon of the Storm Bearer’s Peak, son of Dragon Witch Gertrude and Spinel of the Dragon Cauldron—”

“You’re human!” she interrupted. Tears stung her eyes, and the quaking in her legs worsened. “Taliesin, you are human. I’ve seen glamoured dragons in the past. They don’t look the least bit human. Even the best glamours can’t hide their true nature.”

Taliesin pushed his bangs back with a sigh. “I am only half dragon, so there’s less to hide,” he explained, “and my magic is stronger than the typical dragon, so it’s easier to do so.”

She shook her head. “Taliesin—”

“Your Highness.” He dropped to one knee before her. “Please trust me. I would never lie to you. I am the dragon of these mountains.”

She wanted to believe him. A nobody bard, even one skilled in magic like Taliesin, was far less terrifying than the dragon that had loomed over her all her life. And then there were all the hints: Tabitha’s teasing, his comfort in performing for the Fae as easily as he did humans...

How had she missed it?

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked, voice hoarse.

For so long she thought she would be eaten on her wedding night. The idea—the relief—that Taliesin had been what awaited her left Rhiannon lightheaded. Taliesin rushed to steady her before she collapsed. “I’m sorry. I think I’m in shock.”

Taliesin gave her a comforting squeeze. “I should have told you my identity a long time ago. Will you trust me regardless?”

“I...” She licked dry lips. “I want to believe you. I really do, but...”

She stepped away. Already she missed Taliesin’s heat. She hugged her arms close to keep from going back. He’d kept the truth from her, and because of that omission, she had suffered so much anguish. Her heart had ached at the thought of leaving him. Her stomach had twisted itself into knots in apprehension of the end of her journey. If he had just told her...

But would she have believed him?

He held her gaze. “I’m sorry. Had I known your true mission, I would have told you at the start. I didn’t mean to cause you so much anguish.”

Taliesin was more than he seemed, that much was certain. Still, it was too difficult to fathom. Resigning herself to becoming a dragon’s bride had been hard enough. The idea that a human, even of the witchy variety, had born a dragon’s child proved impossible for her to grasp.

He sighed. “If you can’t believe me, then could you trust me long enough to escort you to the peak?”

This she could handle. Rhiannon nodded her assent.

Taliesin dug in his satchel until he found a pair of goggles. “Had I known where you intended to go,” he said, adjusting the straps quickly, “I would have brought you here directly. Flying is much faster than horseback, even with my limits. Here, put these on.”

Rhiannon did so. The glass was clear, obviously made by magic for flight. Just another surprise from the bard. “But if I wear them, what will you use?”

“I can manage for a short flight like this,” he replied. “It dries my eyes, nothing more. Ah, though...” Taliesin belatedly remembered the pony he’d been leading. “We’ll have to do something about our noble steed.” He thought for a moment. “I suppose Garret’s still about. He should be able to handle you until I can return you.”

“Garret?” Rhiannon repeated.

“A caretaker for an abandoned stable not too far from here. It’s... Well, he’s a ghost, but he does good work. It’ll be fine so long as he hasn’t moved on yet.”

Shock entirely consumed her. She couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. “First, you claim to be a dragon, and now you know a ghost?” Would the surprises never cease?

“Doesn’t everyone know a ghost or two?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

Rhiannon found she couldn’t return the expression. Instead, she took a steadying breath. Images swirled in her head of what a ghost could possibly look like. “Lead the way.”

Taliesin helped her back on their rented pony and mounted behind her. The creature whinnied a complaint at the added weight but trotted obediently ahead at the clucking sound Taliesin made regardless. The pair rode in silence, previous friendly chatter gone.

When they reached the stables, Rhiannon thought Taliesin had made a mistake. The burnt-out ruins went beyond simply being ‘abandoned.’ The thatch roof had caved in, and what walls existed were blackened by fire and mold. The wall near the intact barn door had fallen over. However, Taliesin still went to the trouble of shoving it open to enter.

Within the stables was a different story entirely. Here, Rhiannon found no damage. Rather, there seemed to be no sign even of aging in the spotless stable. Invisible horses whinnied and snorted from freshly bedded stalls. A large stack of golden hay bales filled one corner. When Taliesin gestured for Rhiannon to join him on the ground, an invisible hand took the reins from his grip.

“I’ll be back tomorrow for this one,” Taliesin promised the force leading the pony to a stall. Shortly after, the saddle floated away to a nearby tack rack, and a curry comb drifted back to their borrowed steed. Taliesin smiled and asked, “Will you be able to care for him until then?”

The comb dropped onto the edge of the stall. Rhiannon heard footsteps. Stray pieces of hay scrunched under unseen boots. A book opened on the table, accompanied by a quill pen and bottle of ink. Taliesin wrote in his looping hand his name as well as his intent to board the horse overnight.

“Thank you, Garret. You’re a lifesaver like always.”

The book snapped shut, the comb floated off, and the invisible caretaker went back to caring for his charge. While she couldn’t see it, Rhiannon had the impression of someone tipping their hat to her before they walked out into the darkening evening. She glanced behind her. The stable had returned to its burnt husk.

“Will the pony be okay?” she asked.

“Nobody’s better with all things equine,” he assured her. He hesitated, then asked, “Are you okay with me flying you up the mountain?”

Rhiannon blanched. “I’ll be fine. There’s not another way up, is there?”

“Flying is certainly the fastest way. There’s a path, but it’s easy to lose track of and takes a long time to traverse. And that’s if the Fair Folk of the area don’t decide to have their fun.”

Thank heaven. Brodrick wouldn’t be able to follow them easily. Rhiannon breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

Taliesin smiled faintly and pointed to the headgear. “Then put those on while I arrange our things, okay?”

She busied herself with the goggles—anything to not think about how high in the air they would shortly be and how near the possibility of plummeting to her death would become. She’d have to get used to this if she were marrying a dragon. Surely, he would want to take her places...

Oh, the entire situation made her head spin!

“Ready?”

Rhiannon jumped and turned to face her companion. “Yes.” Only to freeze at the sight before her.

Taliesin hadn’t been lying. A pair of sapphire-colored wings longer than he was tall protruded from his back, and two long horns curved elegantly from behind his ears like those of the mounted impala head in her father’s study. His powerful blue tail swished on the ground like a nervous cat’s.

He waited for her judgment—for her to scream or run away, but Rhiannon did neither. White as a sheet, she swallowed back her terror and forced herself to close the gap between them. “How far is your...” She trailed off, unsure of how to refer to his residence. Did he call a cave home? Or perhaps the forest before it gave way to nothing but rocky crags and cliffs. All she knew was that he didn’t sleep out in the open. He’d seemed too comfortable indoors for that.

“My cottage is about an hour’s flight from here. If you need to land at any time, let me know and I’ll do so. All right?”

“All right.” Her voice came out far fainter than she’d meant it to.

He gave her a reassuring smile. “You can keep your eyes closed the whole time if you would be more comfortable that way, and you can hold on to me as tightly as you need to.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. With her permission, Taliesin scooped her into his arms and cradled her firmly against his chest. She in turn clung to him with arms looped behind his neck. “Ready?”

Rhiannon swallowed and closed her eyes. “Yes.”

His muscles tensed before he sprang into the air. Wind rushed against her cheeks. Panicked, Rhiannon buried her face against the crook of his neck. Part of her expected him to laugh at her expense—Brodrick certainly would have—but she only felt a gentle squeeze. In her ear she heard soothing words under the cacophony nearly drowning him out.

Their ascent evened out. Wind whipped around her, tugging at her hair and clothes. The air whistled in her ears, but they went no higher. Rhiannon dared to crack open one eye, and seeing the deep blue unfolding around them, stars just beginning to prick the sky, the other eye joined the first. To the west, the sun steadily sank beneath the horizon. To the east, the mountains glowed a fiery orange. Below, the landscape rushed by in a blur of colors just beginning to pop in the oncoming spring.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Taliesin called over the whistling wind. Rhiannon nodded, so entranced by the scenery that she thought little of leaning away. Taliesin redoubled his hold. “Hold on tight, Your Highness! I don’t want to drop you!” Panicked, she tightened her grasp around his neck.

Soaring through the sky, joined by birds returning early from their own journeys, Rhiannon found it surprisingly easy to forget her cares. Chilly as the world was around them, Taliesin’s arms were pleasantly warm. The steady drum of his heart and wings lulled Rhiannon into a sleepy haze. Try as she might, she couldn’t rouse herself. Perhaps it was the relief of knowing there was no dragon to eat her or the thought that she would at long last be free from Sir Brodrick. She couldn’t say for sure which sapped her of strength.

After her head drooped for the eleventh time, a rough beat of his wings startled her awake. A field surrounded them, one lit by the glow of out-of-season fireflies in the equally unseasonably summery weather. Just past a lake glimmering in the starlight stood a small cottage. The door opened, spilling warm lamplight over the cobblestone path. Within the doorway, a petite figure in gray stood with a lantern raised for them.

“Evening, Bells,” Taliesin called as he carefully set Rhiannon back on her feet. “We have a guest. Could you prepare a room for her?”

The woman put a hand on her hips and a frown on her face, though she said not a word. Taliesin realized his mistake and dug in his satchel to make amends. “Also, my mother wants you to have this. I’m not entirely sure what it is, but I assume you know what it’s for?”

Her face softened slightly at the sight of the little bottle. She took it, popped the seal, and sniffed. Apparently satisfied with its contents, she replaced the stopper and tucked the potion under her shawl.

Thinking himself out of the woods, Taliesin said to Rhiannon, “Rhiannon, this is Bellflower, my housekeeper. Bells, this is Her Highness, Princess Rhiannon.” The very idea of a dragon with a housekeeper was so absurd, Rhiannon could barely restrain her nervous laughter.

Bellflower’s mouth fell open, and for a split second, Rhiannon thought she would say something to scold Taliesin for the lack of warning. Much to her surprise, the housekeeper’s jaw snapped shut, and she padded out from the house with silent footsteps. She reached up on tiptoe to snag Taliesin’s shoulder without any hesitation. Dragging Taliesin with an iron grip, Bellflower reached the sparkling lake and unceremoniously flung him into the water.

Spluttering and splashing, Taliesin resurfaced and pushed sopping hair out of his face. Bellflower nodded, satisfied with her handiwork. She spun to face Rhiannon once more, and the princess flinched away from her approach. The woman only smiled, however, and took the princess’s hand far more gently than she had grabbed her employer. Bellflower then led Rhiannon into the house.

The housekeeper ushered Rhiannon down a quaint hall papered in the color of a light afternoon tea. After depositing their guest in a cozy sitting room, Bellflower set about seeing to Rhiannon’s comfort. Once the pillows were plumped and a cheerful fire crackled in the grate, the housekeeper vanished into a room across the hall.

At a loss, Rhiannon waited in a stupor until the servant returned carrying a tea tray laden with snacks. Behind her, a soaked-to-the-bone Taliesin dripped water all over the polished wooden floor. Bellflower mutely set down the tray and poured a cup of chamomile tea for Rhiannon before rounding on her employer.

Again with that iron grip, she snagged his sleeve and dragged him away. He sputtered, “Bells!” but Rhiannon heard no more with the parlor door shutting.

Out in the hall, Bellflower released him and crossed her arms. Her foot kept a steady tempo as she quirked an eyebrow up at her much taller employer. Taliesin held up his hands placatingly. “It was a little last minute. She’s had a tough time of it, and she’ll be staying for a while.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed at him.

“You can blame my mother,” he continued. “She’s the one who started all of this by forcing His Majesty to engage Rhiannon to me. I didn’t realize the rumors were real, or I’d have warned you months ago.”

Bellflower studied him a few moments longer. After a deafening silence, she nodded curtly.

Taliesin breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Bells.”

She smacked his shoulder and pointed first at the floor, then up the stairs.

Taliesin followed her finger to the puddle on the floor. “Right, right. I’ll go change.”

Back in the little sitting room, Rhiannon sat on the edge of her seat while nibbling a tea cookie. She rose when the door reopened, half expecting Taliesin. Instead, she found Bellflower. Awkwardly, Rhiannon dipped into a polite curtsy and said, “I must apologize for causing you so much trouble on my behalf.”

The smile told Rhiannon the gray-clad woman appreciated the gesture. She continued, “If it pleases you, may I introduce myself properly?”

Rhiannon didn’t receive a response in words. Rather, the housekeeper nudged the princess to stand tall once more and gestured for her to follow. Across the hall was a bathroom with copper tile and a large tub. The bath was already filled with steaming water.

While the servant bustled about retrieving fluffy towels from the linen closet, Rhiannon asked, “Did you... I mean, was this not prepared for Taliesin?”

Bellflower nodded, unbothered as she hung the towels.

“Then he should clean up first. I can wait.”

To this, Bellflower shook her head and retrieved a jar filled with a sandy substance. She tipped the contents into the bath and instantly the scent of lavender and roses filled the room.

Thinking this was all because Taliesin had upset her, Rhiannon pleaded, “Please don’t be angry with him. I insisted I come here.”

The silent woman placed a finger on the princess’s lips. The mischievous twinkle in her eye made Rhiannon wonder if Bellflower cared about having an unexpected guest at all. Perhaps she’d just used it as an excuse to get testy with her employer on a lark.

Once more, she motioned for Rhiannon to enjoy the bath. Then the housekeeper left her to her own devices.

Rhiannon hesitated a moment more, but between the dust from the road still clinging to her skin and the inviting aroma from the steaming water, her resolve crumbled. She would be quick, she decided, so Taliesin wouldn’t even notice she’d gone first.

That plan failed miserably. As soon as she’d settled, Rhiannon nodded straight off.

A knock at the door woke her sometime later. Thoroughly embarrassed, Rhiannon called back, “One moment!” as she reached for the towel.

The door opened anyway, and Bellflower stepped in carrying fresh clothes. She curtsied and arranged the unfamiliar things upon the side table. Soft green fabric so fine it bordered on the impossible made up the dinner dress laid out for her. The sleeves hung loose from shoulder to elbow, ending in cuffs with pearl buttons. Stepping into glass slippers reminded Rhiannon of all those fairy stories she’d indulged in as a child.

“Is it all right for me to wear this?” she asked over her shoulder.

Bellflower nodded and continued to button the dress up the back.

“Um, pardon my asking, but...are you mute?”

Again, the woman nodded.

From outside the dressing area, she heard Taliesin say, “Bellflower is a silkie.”

Rhiannon’s eyes widened. No wonder she hadn’t said a word! Growing up, Rhiannon had heard about the magical Fae that served households, but never had she dreamed of meeting one in person. Like brownies, the silkie were a Fae that preferred home and hearth to the wilds, and loyally served the families of the houses they called home. Normally, they did all this while their chosen families slept. The most one could detect of their presence was the rustle of their silk dresses just out of sight.

Noticing her stare, Bellflower smiled. She didn’t seem offended to have been outed. If anything, she looked amused. Finishing her task of buttoning up the back, she gave the princess another nudge, this time to leave the safety of the dressing room.

Rather than return to the parlor, Bellflower danced past Taliesin to another room, this one a dining room. Two place settings had already been laid out upon the finely crafted chestnut table. Sparkling crystal wine goblets filled with ruby red wine befitting a grand feast stood tall next to each plate. A whole roast goose sat beside a daintily trussed rack of lamb. A bowl held a pile of roasted potatoes. Another to the left steamed with glazed carrots. All in all, far too much food for just two people. Rhiannon took it all in with wide-eyed wonder while Taliesin just shook his head.

“Bells tends to go a little overboard whenever I have guests,” he said apologetically. “It happens so rarely.”

She couldn’t help but ask, “Is this why she threw you in the lake?”

Taliesin let out a bark of laughter. “Yes. Among other reasons. I only have the one bath, and since you’re my guest, you should obviously use it before me.”

“I tried to tell her not to—”

“There’s no changing a silkie’s mind once it’s made up.” He reached for the platter piled high with sliced goose. “Would you like some? I can promise that Bells is the best cook outside of a fairy court.”

“Thank you,” Rhiannon replied, though the previous train of thought nagged at her, “but surely you didn’t have to, er, swim in the lake when we arrived.”

“As I said, she was upset with me for not warning her ahead of time.” Taliesin dished some of the glazed carrots onto Rhiannon’s plate. “It’s not much trouble for her, but Bellflower is a stickler for manners.”

Rhiannon glanced toward the fairy servant standing against the far wall. “Then I really should have thought to—”

“The fault rests entirely with me. You’d never have suspected a dragon would have servants.” Entertained by this train of thought, Taliesin added, “Or a house. In fact, a lot of this is probably a shock to you.”

“Yes, but it’s a good sort of shock,” Rhiannon admitted. “I don’t think I could have been comfortable in a cave. Not that I would have run away or anything if you did live in a cave!” Her hands clenched in her lap. “I’m sure I would have managed somehow.”

Taliesin chuckled. “It’s a good thing I don’t live in a cave, then. It would be a problem for me too. Do you know what moisture and weather do to musical instruments? I’d never be able to keep them in tune even with magic. Ah, but listen to me blather on. We should eat before the food gets cold.” He shot a meaningful look Bellflower’s way. “It wouldn’t do to waste so much of a wonderful chef’s effort.” The silkie beamed at the compliment.

Conversation lapsed briefly as they tucked into their food. After anxiety had gnawed at her through breakfast and lunch, Rhiannon felt like a man half starved. Maybe the feast had been a good idea. Too much food or not, much of it disappeared as they chatted. Talk of music and a home-cooked meal could only distract from the current state of affairs for so long, however. Eventually, they had to face the reason for Rhiannon’s coming.

“So,” Taliesin began conversationally, “would you mind telling me more about your fiancé?” Her cutlery clattered to her plate. “I beg your pardon if I’ve misread the situation, but he must be a rather...trying individual if you’d throw your lot in with a dragon sooner than marry him.”

Rhiannon bit her lip. “It’s not that,” she stammered, even though that was in large part the reason. “I came more because it’s unwise to break a promise one makes with a witch.”

“There are ways of addressing such a promise that don’t involve sacrificing yourself to a dragon,” he observed. “You could contact the witch in question or speak with the Council. Even witches of the major arcana are subject to the Council’s decisions. They could have sorted it out.”

“My father tried speaking with them,” she said. “They claimed that without the witch’s name, there was nothing they could do and that no such promise was on record anyway.”

Of course that’s what they said. Lazy bureaucrats, he thought wearily. That, and they’d never had much love for the kingdom surrounding their little city-state. No wonder they’d been no help when the king approached them.

“If there was no promise on record, the witch likely forgot all about it.” Or hadn’t been serious about it in the first place. Taliesin wouldn’t tell Rhiannon that.

“With a witch as powerful as this one, father didn’t want to chance it.”

A witch as powerful as Taliesin’s mother, Rhiannon belatedly realized. As powerful as Rhiannon’s future mother-in-law? Witch-in-law? Rhiannon’s thoughts swirled in a confused jumble, and only Taliesin’s words drew her back from it.

“But he thought engaging you to another was the answer.”

The words hadn’t sounded harsh or judgmental, but Rhiannon hung her head regardless. “That wasn’t his solution. I suspect that was the price of Sir Brodrick’s assistance.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Sir Brodrick?” No one who lived in the kingdom or in the surrounding nations was unfamiliar with that name. “The monster slayer Sir Brodrick?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Seeing her begin to tremble, he reached out a hand to steady hers. “If scaring him off as a dragon isn’t an option, perhaps a civil conversation with a simple bard would suffice? Or would a warlock’s word hold more weight?” He could dress for the occasion. He had formal robes laying around here somewhere.

She shook her head. “I doubt he would listen to reason regardless of who it came from.”

“Then we’ll go with the simplest solution.” He nodded to Bellflower. She curtsied and slipped from the room.

Hesitantly, Rhiannon asked, “What might that be?”

Taliesin waved about him. “I employ many fairies besides Bellflower. There are even more living in the foothills that I don’t employ but that enjoy the protection a dragon’s presence brings. I’ve asked them for some, shall we say, misdirection. Like the will-o’-the-wisp we saw the other day.”

Somehow Rhiannon doubted her living nightmare would be so easily led astray. It must have shown on her face because Taliesin added, “If he does find his way up the mountain, I will protect you. You will only leave here if you choose to.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “All right?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Unable to meet his eye, she asked, “Why would you go so far to help me?”

“My chivalrous heart can’t let a beautiful maiden remain in distress if I am able to offer anything to ease her worries.”

Despite the tension she still felt, Rhiannon giggled. “I’m hardly beautiful.”

Taliesin took their empty plates. “Don’t sell yourself short, my lady. You are the loveliest young woman I have ever met.” And with that, he whisked their dirty dishes into the kitchen.

~*~

After kicking the door shut behind him, crimson burned up his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. He leaned against the dark wood to steady himself, and Bellflower took the plates before he dropped them.

She flashed him a knowing smile, as if to say, You like her, don’t you?

Taliesin for his part just ran his fingers through his hair and mumbled, “What is wrong with me?”

Chapter Nine

Morning arrived with sparkling spring sunlight and birdsong. Rhiannon drew her covers more tightly around herself to hide from the rays streaming in through her window curtains. Surely travel could wait a little longer for a more decent hour.

Knock, knock, knock.

Rhiannon whined against the rap at the door and smothered herself with the pillow. There was a pause, and for a few blessed seconds, she thought her visitor had moved on. Not so.

Knock, Knock, Knock.

Wonderful. Now it was more insistent. Maybe if she ignored it...

KnockKnockKnockKnockKnockKnock.

Alas, the knocking came louder and quicker. Rhiannon groped around for her dressing gown. “Please give me a moment,” she mumbled sleepily. The knocking ceased. For a moment, Rhiannon considered going back to sleep. Years of etiquette training cringed at the gall. With a grimace, she forced herself out of bed.

Waiting for her on the other side was Bellflower, looking as prim and proper as she had the night before despite the early hour of... Oh dear, what time was it? Rhiannon resisted the urge to scrub the sleep from her eyes. “Good morning, Miss Bellflower. Is something the matter?”

The silkie said not a word, nor did Rhiannon expect her to at this point. Instead, she took Rhiannon by the shoulders and steered her back into the bedroom toward the boudoir. Bellflower sat the princess down before the mirror and picked up an ivory-handled brush. After undoing Rhiannon’s braid, Bellflower went to work combing the brush through thick brown hair.

“You don’t have to do that,” Rhiannon protested.

The silkie smiled at their reflection with a determination that promised she wouldn’t stop.

Trying again with a different tactic, Rhiannon said, “I would hate to trouble you. I’m sure you have things you would rather be doing right now.”

Bellflower merely tilted her head in reply.

With Rhiannon’s hair untangled and smoothed, Bellflower set aside the brush and reached for a collection of hairpins. Methodically, and ignoring Rhiannon’s continued insistence not to go through the trouble, the fairy servant plaited the brown locks into elaborate braids. She then wove them into a coronet around Rhiannon’s head and affixed the braids with delicate pins in the shape of dragonflies and flowers.

When Bellflower finally released the princess’s hair, Rhiannon sighed with relief. However, as the silkie made her way to the closet, the princess’s eyes bulged.

“Wait! You need not—”

Rhiannon’s protest died on her lips as Bellflower threw open an armoire packed with dresses in an unbelievably vast array of styles and colors. The silkie hid a victorious smile as she pawed through the gowns in search of the perfect one. She stopped at a deep cerulean dress that glittered like starlight splashed across a night sky. Decorum dictated that such finery would only be suitable for parties, but Rhiannon couldn’t take her eyes off it.

Bellflower lifted it from the rack and held it up to Rhiannon. Like the dress from the previous evening, this one appeared to be in her exact size. The silkie nodded and placed it back in the closet. When she closed the door only to reopen it an instant later, the rest of the dresses had vanished. In their place, a selection crafted from that same cerulean-and-stars pattern had appeared. Each one of the lovely gowns was a different cut and style, varying from coronation formal to picnic casual. Rhiannon’s jaw dropped as Bellflower selected one more suitable for a quiet day in.

“Did Taliesin make this?” Bellflower shook her head. “Then who?”

The silkie waved her over to the mirrored dressing area to change.

“Was it the Dragon Witch?”

Again, Bellflower shook her head and gestured for Rhiannon to take off her nightgown. She carefully pulled it over her head so as not to ruin the fairy’s handiwork on her hair.

Only one other witch came to mind. “Lady Tabitha?” Rhiannon asked.

This earned a nod. Bellflower gestured for Rhiannon to step into the dress, and she obeyed.

“Why would Tabitha make something like this for Taliesin?” Rhiannon asked, genuinely confused. Bellflower shook her head again and gestured to Rhiannon. Taken aback, the princess pointed to her own nose. “It is for me?”

Bellflower nodded in reply.

Clearly, Tabitha had known Rhiannon’s identity and thus why she’d come here, but to think she would send something like this on ahead... Her face heated up as a thought struck her. “Did she say why she sent it?”

Bellflower tapped her chin thoughtfully. Snapping her fingers, she went back to the armoire and retrieved a note from a drawer—one that proclaimed the gift a wedding present. Rhiannon’s face grew even hotter, and she buried it in her hands. Unbothered, Bellflower finished lacing the back of the dress for her.

“She really did know this whole time,” Rhiannon muttered.

Bellflower patted her arm and gestured for her to sit. From the armoire the silkie retrieved two likely pairs of slippers to offer to Rhiannon. When the princess didn’t choose, the silkie shrugged and slid the velvet blue pair with silver star embroidery onto Rhiannon’s feet.

The silkie tapped her chin once more as she inspected her handiwork. She snapped her fingers again, and this time opened a drawer in the dressing table to reveal a collection of gold and silver accessories.

“Oh no! I couldn’t possibly—”

Bellflower placed a finger to Rhiannon’s lips to silence her. Then the servant chose a pair of simple silver teardrops to adorn their guest’s ears.

“This is too much,” Rhiannon said. Bellflower looked unconcerned as she fingered little pots containing a variety of paints and powders. This, at least, she could stop. “It’s too early for that,” the princess protested.

Disappointed, Bellflower pouted and hung her head. Too early or not, she had so looked forward to dressing up her charge both for her own enjoyment and to see just how much she could tease her employer. She put the makeup away and curtsied her understanding. Then, crossing the room, she held open the door for Rhiannon to lead the way.

Rhiannon had expected to find Taliesin at the breakfast table. Despite there being a place set for him among the resplendent feast, her host was nowhere to be found. The colorful tray of fresh fruit, a hearty pile of maple-smoked bacon, and a mound of scrambled eggs were too much for one person. When she saw the empty chair, Bellflower’s disappointed pout only deepened.

“I can fetch him,” Rhiannon offered.

Bellflower pondered the offer but a moment before acquiescing. She pointed up the stairs and hooked her hand to the left.

“Right. Turn at the top of the stairs. Thank you.”

Finding him wasn’t difficult. Upon turning down the hall, Rhiannon heard the soft plucking of strings and the plunking of a piano’s keys. Curious, she followed the sound to its source and peeked past the door left ajar.

Taliesin sat on the piano bench, tuning up what appeared to be a violin but for being the slightest bit larger. The notes, too, were deeper and richer. A viola, perhaps? So Taliesin’s talent extended to other instruments? Not that Rhiannon knew if playing a viola was any different from playing a violin. She knew next to nothing about stringed instruments, but the rich sound vibrating from its heart struck her as impressive.

Even more amazing was the sheer array of instruments lining the walls. The collection boasted everything from vibrant woodwinds to shining brass to a rather intimidating stringed bass. Rhiannon took a step forward, and her foot bumped an instrument case. She flinched at the quiet scuff, scolding herself for the interruption.

Taliesin didn’t seem the least bit bothered. He nodded his head in greeting before returning his attention to cleaning the strings and stowing away his instrument. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Not at all. Bellflower asked me to find you for breakfast.”

He glanced at the window. “Is it that time already? The sun hadn’t yet dawned when I got back from Garret’s.” He closed the case in his lap and stood. “I lose track while tuning my collection.”

“Can you really play all of these?”

“More or less. Like anything else, there are some I’m better at than others.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?”

As they made their way down to the dining room, Taliesin asked, “Do you play any instruments, Rhiannon?”

“Not really. I learned to play piano a long time ago, but I was never all that good.” Nor had she been given the opportunity to improve. Staying near the baby grand made her too easy for Brodrick to locate. Unwelcome interruptions ruined the peace of practice. Music just wasn’t that important when you lived to kill monsters, she supposed.

He pulled out the chair for her, as he had the night before. “I’m sure you played just fine. If you’d like, you’re welcome to use my piano whenever you wish. I have plenty of sheet music you can borrow as well.”

“Ah, no, I don’t think I could.”

“I think you could and should,” Taliesin insisted with a bright smile. “If you’d like, I can give you lessons. I’m a better violinist than pianist, but I’m no slouch either.”

“I...”

Bellflower caught Rhiannon’s eye from where she stood on the far side of the room and made an encouraging motion of the hands. Rhiannon twiddled her thumbs. “I suppose I could. If it’s all right with you, I mean. I would hate to interrupt your practice.”

“It would be no trouble at all, and maybe we can play together sometime.”

To play a duet with him sent a thrill through her heart. As if I could ever play with a professional, she thought to herself, appreciating the sentiment nonetheless. “Then I’ll take you up on the offer.”

After breakfast, Taliesin offered to show her around his home, and Rhiannon accepted. On the lower floors he pointed out a kitchen, as well as a study devoted to books on music rather than magic. Upstairs, he showed her where his bedroom was (just down the hall from hers), his ‘music room’ as he called it, and the bedroom that Bellflower called her own.

“It’s not much compared to your castle,” he chuckled, “but it’s home.”

“No, it’s wonderful.” While tiny compared to her own home, his cottage was cozy and lived-in—nothing like the large empty halls and impersonable staff that avoided her.

A smile quirked his lips. “It warms my heart to hear you say that.” He extended his arm for her to take. “Shall I show you around the grounds? It’s not a particularly large yard, but it’s the perfect size for a dragon or two.”

Rhiannon would never call green space big enough for two dragons to lounge small, although she supposed the dragons in question might. “I would love to see it.”

No sooner had they stepped outdoors, however, than did a small green missile smack into Taliesin’s chest and nearly bowl him over. “Ack! Copper! Calm down!” The miniature dragon refused to listen and lavished even more love on the bard. It crooned happily. “Yes, yes, I’m home— Ouch!” He tried to bat the little creature away after it butted its tiny horned head against him, nearly impaling him on the miniature protrusions. “Please stop that.”

Rhiannon stifled a giggle. “Who is this?” she asked, scritching under the teensy, tiny dragon’s chin.

“This is Copper the pixie dragon,” Taliesin said. “Copper, this is Her Highness, Princess Rhiannon.” The creature crooned his own greeting. “He’s somewhere between pet and assistant,” he explained. “He’s smarter than a wyvern but incapable of the common tongue like a greater dragon.”

With knitted brows, the creature trilled. At its complaint, Taliesin added, “I’m able to understand him, as can any other dragon.”

“I didn’t know dragons had their own language.”

“We do and don’t. It’s difficult to explain.” Taliesin lifted the pixie dragon onto his shoulder. “Shall we continue our stroll?”

Last night the courtyard-like field had been obscured by darkness. Now, every feature from the tall stone walls surrounding them to the cottage itself was bathed in the morning sun. In the daylight, she could appreciate the natural beauty of the mountaintop basin. The lake took up less space than Rhiannon had originally thought—if anything, it was more of an oversized pond than a true lake. Emerald waves of grass surrounded the water, and small groves of flowering trees leaned their branches over its glittering surface. A meticulous vegetable garden grew behind the house, watered by a creek bubbling on through. Here, Rhiannon thought she spotted a tiny flower fairy or two, though by the time she looked directly, the Fae had already vanished.

On the far side of the basin stood a cavernous opening to a tunnel. “It opens further down the mountain, but most humans cannot reach it.” Taliesin explained. “Even if your Sir Brodrick manages to find it, the trolls inside will give him a hard time.”

“There are trolls?” Rhiannon asked in surprise. She’d always assumed them nothing more than a legend, a fairy species that had died out long ago in the face of the sun.

“Most of their lives are spent deep in caves. I doubt you’ll ever encounter one.”

“Is it true they turn to stone in sunlight?”

Taliesin guided her away from the mouth of the cave. “Yes and no. Here or in the Fae courts they won’t since there’s so much magic in the air. Further down the mountain, however... Well, let’s just say I’ve seen more than one statue of the banished.”

Rhiannon shuddered. He placed a comforting hand against her lower back, leading her further from the cave.

By the time they’d explored the whole field, lunchtime had crept up on them. The first to realize was Copper, who alerted them with noisily trumpeted complaints while tugging at Taliesin’s sleeve. He chuckled indulgently. “All right, all right, we’ll head back.” To Rhiannon he said, “I’m sure Bellflower is expecting us. Shall we?”

Their return brought with it a plate of cold meats and an array of freshly baked breads. While simple fare, Rhiannon was firmly convinced that between the delicately braided brioche and the sheer variety of herb-crusted rolls, Bellflower had taken yet another opportunity to show off. Taliesin hardly batted an eye, however, so perhaps this was normal.

Accompanying the buffet was a pot of soup, the aroma of which made Rhiannon’s mouth water. The delicate broth suited her tastes more than the heavy meats and cheeses. When Taliesin offered to ladle some out for her, she gratefully accepted.

After a healthy helping of soup and a roll topped with roasted goose leftover from last night, Bellflower trotted out another surprise. The little glass dish layered with out-of-season fruits, moist sponges, and whipped cream delighted Rhiannon. She reined her excitement back when she realized there was only one dish placed before her on the table. Bellflower hadn’t brought dessert for Taliesin.

Concerned, Rhiannon asked, “Miss Bellflower isn’t still mad about yesterday, is she?”

Taliesin chuckled. “No, no, I do believe my transgressions have been forgiven.”

“Then, um, pardon my asking, but is there some other reason she didn’t bring you a parfait?”

He chose a piece of sliced roast to toss to Copper, who swooped in to snap it up midair. “I’m part dragon,” he explained. “I don’t taste sweet things in the same way you can. Because of that, it’s rather difficult to enjoy fresh fruits or the other treats Bellflower delights in making.”

Feeling sheepish, the princess dropped her gaze to the sweet in front of her. “I didn’t realize.”

“Most don’t, but it’s all right.” As he watched her take a bite, the way her face melted into bliss stirred something in him. Not jealousy. Rather, something else he shunted away lest it make him overstep as he had on their journey. Whatever it was, it wasn’t safe to acknowledge until he could ask his mother just what she’d been experimenting on him with this time.

Catching his stare, Rhiannon balanced a ruby red raspberry covered with cream on her spoon and offered it to Taliesin. “Would you care for a bite?”

He blinked at her, then shifted his attention to the tasty morsel.

“Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t. Since you can’t really taste—”

Taliesin’s mouth closed around the spoon. He licked his lips as he retreated, the red juice briefly staining them. Rhiannon blushed, though she couldn’t put her finger on why. “You needn’t have forced yourself.”

“I never said I disliked them. Just that they were harder to enjoy.” He licked his lips again, wiping away the scarlet.

“Oh.” Rhiannon swirled the cream and raspberries in the dish, breaking up the sponges. “What does it taste like to you?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “A little sweet,” he said, “but probably not as sweet or complex as it is to your sense of taste. The whipped cream’s nice. I don’t taste the sweet so much, but the texture and, well, creaminess is delightful.”

“It’s a shame that you can’t taste it.”

“It’s for the best,” Taliesin replied. “Sugar is surprisingly bad for carnivorous animals, dragons included. We’re a lot like cats in that way. If I could taste it more strongly, it likely wouldn’t end well for me.”

She hadn’t thought about that. “Then I’m guessing that’s why you don’t eat much in the way of vegetables either?”

“I can eat them, and I enjoy some more than others, but yes, more or less. I need to eat some food for my human side, but likely not as much as you.”

Rhiannon remembered the potatoes back at the inn so long ago. “And potatoes?”

“Oh, those are terrible for me,” he laughed, “but when they’re cooked with a roast? Perfection. I could sing their praises for days.” The little dragon that clambered into his lap squawked in disgust. “Hey, no one said you had to have any.”

Rhiannon laughed too, a sound like music to Taliesin’s ears. She wiped a tear from her eye. “He’s a delight,” she said of Copper. The dragon crooned his appreciation of her fingers tickling beneath his chin. “Maybe you should take him with you when you travel with your violin.”

“What do you think, Copper? Want to go on an adventure?” The pixie dragon made an agreeable noise. “All right, that’s it. You’re coming with me and singing along for your supper.”

Rhiannon would like to see that. Though it would mean staying long enough for Taliesin to travel again. Did she want to linger that long? And if he did travel as a bard, would he take her with him? Or would she remain in this quaint little cottage with nowhere else to go?

A chirping tune brought her back to herself. Copper had clambered up to perch across Taliesin’s shoulders, his long neck and tail swaying back and forth like a metronome in time with the bard’s conducting finger. He whistled, chirped, and clicked along to the cheery folk song Taliesin hummed for their benefit. When Taliesin began to sing the words, Rhiannon felt all her doubts float away.

And when he opened his eyes and smiled warmly at her, she knew, somehow, that he would never leave her behind.

Chapter Ten

Days fell into a pattern. Bellflower would wake Rhiannon midmorning, insist on dressing her for the day, and send her to go fetch Taliesin. They would sit for breakfast, Taliesin would go up to his music room, and Rhiannon would follow to watch him tune up this instrument or strum a tune on that. After a few days without success, he finally talked her into joining him at the piano while he sorted through sheets of music.

“What sort of music do you like to play?” he asked as he flipped through the scores.

“I can’t say I know,” Rhiannon admitted, pressing one of the ivory keys. A crystal-clear C resounded. “Truth be told, I never got past simple scales and arpeggios.”

He pulled an easy piece from the stack. “Are you able to read music?”

“More or less.” She’d tried to keep it up when Brodrick was away, but it proved too difficult to go months at a time without practice. Even when he was gone, she was always terrified he would return at any moment. Playing piano lost its charm, and after a while, she’d pursued other interests that took her places he couldn’t go. In the castle kitchens, she could bake bread peacefully under the care of the chef who held no patience for knights. The private library allowed her to study politics where only those of royal blood or the Royal Academy’s top scholars could tread.

“Care to play this one with me?” he asked.

A duet? But he only had one piano. She glanced around to be sure. “How?”

“I could play an accompaniment on the lower keys while you handle the melody.” Taliesin fiddled with a tune that, if Rhiannon read the sheet correctly, would fit right in. “Or if you prefer, I could play my violin with you. I’d rather feature your playing.”

“And I’d rather hear yours.”

He chuckled. “Careful or you’ll give me a big head and Bells will never forgive you.” He tinkered with his melody a little more. Once satisfied with it, he placed his hands on the keys and waited for Rhiannon to do the same.

She hesitated, but seeing him so confident in her finally convinced her. No amount of belief could stop the butterflies banging against her ribs at the prospect of messing up, however. Rhiannon read over the pages twice more before setting her own fingers on the keys.

The tune began haltingly and more than once faltered. Taliesin waited a few beats before joining in, bridging her pauses with little improvisations of his own. At first, her shame at her own lack of skill nearly caused her to walk out. What kept her there was seeing Taliesin smile at her and his encouragement in the form of a gentle nod. At his side, she muddled her way through to the end, and though she missed as many notes as she played correctly, Taliesin turned every one of her mistakes into a beauty meant to be.

Perhaps because of all her mistakes, Rhiannon didn’t recognize the tune. “What is the name of this song?”

“‘Hummingbird in Flight,’” Taliesin replied. He dug around for a blank sheet of parchment. “How did you like it?”

“I don’t think I did it justice, but I do like it. Might I ask who wrote it?”

Already a pen he’d scrounged up somewhere danced along the bars and measures to record his previous accompaniment. “Yours truly.”

“Really?!”

“Yes, so I can guarantee that you did just fine. I rather liked your rendition.”

“You’re being far too kind!” Rhiannon waved her arms frantically. “I missed more than half the notes, and the ones I did hit were all the wrong ones!”

“But it’s the spirit of the piece that matters,” he replied. “The song is a hummingbird. They hardly follow a set path.” Satisfied with his duet, he set it on the piano beside the first. Rhiannon felt her stomach drop from the sheer number of notes written there. No matter how long she practiced, she could never play the second part.

“Maybe that should be the melody,” she said, but Taliesin shook his head.

He pointed to a couple of measures, careful not to touch the wet ink as he traced his finger along the middle line. “That’s where I disagree. This would do better as accompaniment. The simple melody traces the hummingbird’s flight with a faster, fluttery duet to represent the wings.” Wistfully, he played a few more notes. “If only we had a few more people, I could incorporate a woodwind part or two as well. Maybe some strings...”

“It sounds like you could compose for a full orchestra.”

“I’ve toyed with the idea a few times, but I prefer writing more intimate pieces. Especially with a piece like this. No one would want such a childish flight of fancy played by a full orchestra.”

Rhiannon shook her head. “It’s not childish at all!”

Taliesin hid his mouth behind his hand as he chuckled. “I assure you, it is. I wrote it when I was eight, I believe.”

Her mouth fell agape. “When you were eight?!” When Rhiannon herself was that age, she’d been struggling through simple arithmetic and here Taliesin was composing music. Even a simple tune like this went beyond what could be expected of a child.

“I have a good ear,” he said. “That’s all.”

“Still...”

“You should hear a real dragon one day,” he mused, adjusting the sheets on the piano’s stand. “They’re all musical geniuses that put my paltry ability to shame.”

Rhiannon placed a hand on his knee. “Your abilities aren’t paltry!” she cried. “Never say that. I’m the one with no talent, not you—”

Taliesin went still at her touch. He sucked in a breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly. He forced another breath, this one slower and steadier. “Don’t sell yourself short, Your Highness.” He leaned toward her, some buried instinct drawing him closer. He tilted her chin up with a single finger. “Your playing was almost as lovely as you.”

Their eyes locked. The world went quiet as their breathing mingled. Rhiannon’s pulse soared. Her gaze flicked down to his lips and back. Should she bridge the space between them? Would he?

But Taliesin dropped his hand and stood before Rhiannon could see just how red his cheeks had turned. “Anyway,” he stooped to sift through the different sheets he’d earlier set aside on the floor, “would you like to try playing something else? I have quite a few pieces here suitable for a beginner.”

She almost missed the question. She was dumbstruck, wavering somewhere between scared that he’d been about to kiss her and disappointed that he hadn’t. Rhiannon snapped out of it and said, “I think I would like that.”

“Great! Oh, shoot.” He neatened the stack in his hand. “It seems I left most of them in the library. I’ll be right back.”

“Ah, okay. I’ll try this one again in the meantime.” Rhiannon waited for the door to close before she did. Somehow, the thought of him listening at her side made her chest too tight to focus on the notes in front of her.

She supposed she would have to get used to it if he was going to tutor her in piano. Although Rhiannon was going to have just as hard a time controlling her pounding heart if Taliesin insisted on sitting that close to her ever again.

At the memory of Taliesin’s leaning toward her, her heart skipped a beat again at the thought.

Chapter Eleven

Rhiannon woke with a start. Nightmares bled into the darkened, waking world, forming shadows on the ceiling and whispers in the wind outside her window. Shaking, she pushed back her covers and stumbled to the bathroom down the hall. When was the last time she’d had a nightmare so bad it made her feel ill? Not for a long while.

A candle lit the room. Rhiannon froze. She’d forgotten to close the door. What if—?

“Are you all right?”

Taliesin. The tension drained away at the sound of his voice, only to return in the form of embarrassment. “I-I’m fine,” she stammered. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you—”

“I was already awake.” He hesitated by the door. “May I come in?”

“Of course.”

Taliesin knelt at her side. He rubbed gentle circles into her shaking back. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Rhiannon forced herself to take a deep breath and still her quaking limbs. Neither worked nor helped. “It’s rather silly, isn’t it? I’m like a little kid.”

“Even adults have nightmares. Would you tell me what it was about?”

“I don’t remember,” she lied. She could still feel Brodrick’s hands on her, dragging her somewhere where no one would stop him.

If he recognized her falsehood for what it was, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he tapped her shoulder and said, “Here, take a look at this.” When she had her eyes on him, he held out his hand. “Think of the most beautiful flower you’ve ever seen, won’t you? Do you have it in mind?” Confused, she nodded. “Wonderful. Now watch closely.”

One moment, his hand was empty. The next, he held a branch covered in soft pink blossoms. She gasped. “When did you get a cherry blossom branch? Where did you get a cherry blossom branch?”

He snapped a twig from the main branch and tucked it into the top of her braid. “It’s only a dream,” he said, “an illusion that will disappear in the light of day. But I hope this one can chase away the one that woke you or that it at least invites a pleasant one.”

His fingers slid down to her cheek. Taliesin looked about to say something, but he stopped himself. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. While blushing, he said, “You should go back to sleep. There’s a ways yet till dawn.”

Rhiannon shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get back to sleep.”

“Hmm...” He tapped his chin. “Would you sleep better if I was with you?”

He looked shocked at his own offer, like the words had popped out of his mouth without any thought. At her startled reaction, his face went impossibly redder. “Sorry, that was a tasteless joke,” he said. “I’ll walk you—”

“Okay.” His eyes widened at her shy acceptance. “As long as you promise not to...to do anything. Okay?”

“I swear to not do anything to you tonight without your express permission,” he said in flawless Fae. The words thrummed with magic. Rhiannon relaxed and took his offered hand.

His promise made things a little more awkward than they might have been without, but after a brief game of questions and answers, they settled in her bed with his arm draped around her middle, her back pressed against his chest. His body was warm—warmer than a normal human’s—and a comforting presence. She struggled to fall back asleep regardless. Having never shared a bed, even in childhood, it took some getting used to. His soft humming helped, slowly draining the tension away.

The hum trailed off, and quietly, he asked, “Would you like me to cast a spell on you?”

“What kind?”

“A little sleeping charm. One that guarantees good dreams.”

“I think I’d be okay with that.”

He stroked her hair. Words with little meaning to her ears poured from his lips. The lyrical poetry swirled around them, settling on her skin and tingling wherever it touched. Her eyelids grew heavy with each passing syllable, and while she wanted to give in to the gentle sleep it lulled her into, a part of her fought against it on instinct. She whimpered and sighed when her efforts failed, somewhere between frightened and relieved. The last thing she remembered was the brush of lips against her temple before she slipped away into a dream of a sunny afternoon and a picnic in the shade. Then, she knew no more...

At least not until she woke again with a start much later. Disoriented, she searched the room for Taliesin but found herself alone. Spring sunshine streamed through the half-opened curtains to spill across the polished floorboards and reflect up against the cream-colored walls. Not a single sign of her nightmare remained nor of her nighttime guest. Maybe that too had been a dream? She spotted the pink petals scattered across her pillow, slowly fading in the morning light.

Or maybe not...

As had become routine over the last few weeks, Bellflower’s knock came right on schedule. Rhiannon pulled her robe on as usual, let the silkie inside, and followed her dutifully to the dressing room. Unlike previous days, she didn’t hear the faint plunking of notes from down the hall, and their lack set her nerves on edge.

“Where’s Taliesin?”

The fairy paused while brushing out her braid. She shook her head at Rhiannon’s reflection in the mirror, and the brush started moving again. However, Rhiannon didn’t miss the concern that flitted across the woman’s delicate features. Even when silent, it seemed fairies couldn’t lie.

“Did he go out?” Bellflower nodded. “Did he leave the mountain?” She shook her head. So Taliesin had gone out but not left the area?

The worst possibilities flitted through her mind. Memories of her nightmare clawed their way up, making her feel ill once more. Rhiannon leaped to her feet, snatched a woolen cloak from the armoire, and rushed down the stairs and out the door.

Rhiannon found Taliesin near the mouth of the cave. At least, she thought it was Taliesin. The wings were the same color, as was his tail, but both were far larger on the dragon crouched before the entrance to his valley. He watched it the way a cat might a recently discovered mousehole. A twig crunched under her foot as she approached, and the head on its long neck swiveled toward her, golden eyes the size of Rhiannon’s head narrowing dangerously until he recognized her.

The tail swished just like a cat’s, and the dragon’s focus returned to the cave. “Go back inside,” he said in Taliesin’s voice. The pitch was far lower, more like the gravelly ‘impersonation’ Taliesin had treated her to on their journey here.

“Why? What’s happened?”

His neck stretched to peer into the darkness. “Copper told me he spotted a knight scaling the mountain. The Fae confirmed it. He must have gotten a ward against the wisps to get so far so quickly.” His tail thumped against the dirt.

Her heart seized, and her legs nearly gave way. Taliesin’s wing shot out to herd her against him and steady her against his flank. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “I’ll chase him off for you.”

“You’ll get hurt—”

“I’ve had a monster hunter or two stop by in the past. It takes a lot of effort to hurt a dragon and not nearly so much to scare a human.”

“Brodrick isn’t like other humans. Or other knights.” Rhiannon trembled at the memory of the cruelty she had witnessed, and that was nothing compared to the rumors of what he’d done to his foes.

“A few threats, maybe a roar and some posturing with fire, and he’ll be gone. You’ll see. Worse comes to worst, the dragon flees, and a bard makes excuses about how his princess is on another mountain.” Taliesin kept his head held high and his words confident, but Rhiannon could hear the tinge of doubt beginning to creep in.

Rhiannon shook her head. “You don’t understand! Sir Brodrick won’t listen to reason. He never listens.”

Taliesin nuzzled the top of her head with his nose. His hot breath clung to her skin, almost a comfort in spite of the humidity. “I’ll be fine. I’m more concerned about you. Go back inside where it’s safe, okay?”

“I—”

Crunching footsteps on gravel interrupted her. Rhiannon clung to his side. Taliesin tucked his wing around her, casting her into blue-tinged shadow as light passed through the thin membrane. Taliesin’s large head lifted until his neck stretched to its full length, high in the air.

Rhiannon heard metal sliding against leather. Her body shook, and Taliesin’s wing cradled her more tightly against him.

“Sir Brodrick, I presume?”

“Dragon! Surrender the Princess Rhiannon and your death will be a peaceful one.”

A growl reverberated from deep within Taliesin’s chest. The vibrations ran through Rhiannon as well. “Her Highness asked me to send you away, and I suspect she would be quite upset if you murdered me in cold blood, gently or otherwise.”

Metal slid from its sheath. “If you won’t give her up, I’ll take her by force. Have at ye!”

“Stop!”

Taliesin tensed differently than when he’d been ready to strike out at Brodrick. His head swiveled toward the woman he had hidden with his wing. She pushed against the scaley appendage until he lifted it.

“Don’t you dare hurt him!” she shouted at Brodrick.

“Your Highness! Get away from that thing. It’s dangerous!”

The only dangerous one here was Brodrick himself. Rhiannon sucked in a deep breath to steady herself. She forged a few steps forward, steeped with confidence she didn’t feel. “I want you to leave,” she said with all the royal discipline she could muster. “If you harm a single hair—scale—on my husband, I swear I’ll have you and your family stripped of your titles.”

“Husband?!” he roared. “That thing is a beast!”

“He isn’t a beast,” she said, keeping her voice level despite her shaking knees hidden beneath her cloak. “He is my husband, and you are to treat him with all the dignity with which you would treat a member of the royal family.” She avoided using herself as an example. Brodrick had never treated her well.

“Their Majesties sent me to bring you home. Your father, His Majesty the King, may he reign forever, refused this alliance—”

“That doesn’t matter. He made a promise, and I intend to keep it.”

“Rhiannon!”

The way he snarled her name made her flinch back. Worse than a beesting, worse than a flash of his blade, it signaled pain and terrified her beyond measure. She couldn’t let herself tremble. Summoning the royal training ingrained from years of drilling, she drew herself to her full height. “I won’t return with you. Please return to my parents and take that message to them.”

“I’m nobody’s messenger boy. Not even yours, Rhiannon.”

“You will be now,” she said with finality. “Please leave.”

Taliesin rose to his feet. “You heard the lady,” he said, teeth bared. “Kindly leave our mountain before I remove you myself.”

Brodrick’s glare shifted from Rhiannon to the dragon. “Very well. If you won’t come willingly, then I’ll just have to slay this monster first.”

He darted forth, his blade flashing in the morning light. Rhiannon screamed, and Taliesin roared. Unable to dodge with Rhiannon so close, scarlet sprayed with the whistle of the sword’s arc through the air. Even in pain, Taliesin kept his head. When Brodrick dodged around and snatched for Rhiannon, he still managed to catch the sword in his talons. The sudden wrenching of his weapon away from him made Brodrick stumble, giving Rhiannon the chance to duck back into the safety provided by Taliesin’s wing.

Tempered metal shattered into a dozen glittering shards between Taliesin’s claws. Teeth snapped, just missing Brodrick as the man parried with a shield. The metal crunched effortlessly in his jaws.

“You are out of toys,” observed Taliesin with a growl.

Brodrick abandoned the sad remains of his shield. “I will be back.”

“We’ll be ready.” The growl caught at the end in pain. To make up for the show of weakness, flames spilled from his mouth and smoke rose from his nostrils. “Next time I won’t let you off so easily.”

The bravado lasted only so long as Brodrick remained in sight. As soon as the darkness of the cave swallowed him, Taliesin’s forelegs gave way, and with an inhuman whimper he collapsed. Rhiannon cried his name in a panic.

Crimson spurted from the tear in his scales along his collarbone. Blood stained sapphire scales as it ran down to soak into the dirt at their feet. Already the ground was turning into a muddy slick. Rhiannon pressed her hand over the open wound to stanch the bleeding, but it was too long and wide to be effective.

“Tell Bellflower what’s happened,” Taliesin gritted out. “She’ll know what to do.”

Rhiannon shook her head. “I can’t just leave you like this!”

He nudged her with his muzzle. “Go. It wasn’t an enchanted sword. It should shrink with me when I change back.”

But if he changed back... “You’ll have less blood then.”

The muzzle curled back in an attempt at good humor, though it came out more as a pained grimace. “Then I’ll also be lighter for Bells to lug me back inside.” He nudged her again. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine for a few minutes.”

Reluctantly, she relieved the pressure on the wound. Without her hands there, the blood gushed uninhibited. She gritted her teeth and ran as fast as her feet would carry her. Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay. If he died because of her...

Bellflower waited for her at the door, concern creasing her brow. “Taliesin’s hurt!” Rhiannon shouted, even though her lungs screamed for oxygen from the mad dash. “Taliesin’s hurt,” she gasped as she staggered closer. Red smeared her nightgown when she doubled over to wheeze, “Brodrick—a knight—hit him with a sword. I don’t know what to do—”

A serious frown replaced the surprise, and Bellflower gave a curt nod. She vanished into the cottage for a moment. When she returned, it was with a collection of bandages and an opened jar of strong-smelling salve. She gestured for Rhiannon to wait inside before hurrying past her toward the spot Taliesin might lay dying.

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, ones Rhiannon stubbornly wiped away. Crying wouldn’t help anyone. She needed to keep her head in case Bellflower needed her help. Her return took longer due to her wobbly legs. By the time Rhiannon got there, Taliesin had removed himself to the trunk of a nearby flowering tree. He’d returned to his human shape and leaned back against the rough bark. She couldn’t take her eyes away from Bellflower, who was finishing her delicate stitching together of the rough edges of the bloody wound across his chest.

The fringe of Rhiannon’s vision went hazy, and Bellflower carefully clipped her thread before addressing their audience. As usual, she said not a word, taking Rhiannon’s hand instead to put into Taliesin’s clammy one. He turned to her with a pained smile. “I’m fine.”

“You’re anything but!”

“I’ll be fine,” he amended. “Bellflower knows what she’s doing.” He sucked in a sharp breath when Bellflower slathered the wound with the emerald green ointment. “Could I ask you to distract me? Bells knows what she’s doing, but it still hurts.”

She squeezed his hand. “Of course.” Casting about for something—anything—to talk about, she settled on, “Thank you for last night. You were right. That spell did give me pleasant dreams.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted out, “That’s good.”

“And, um...” She desperately tried to think of another topic. “Oh! Breakfast today. Well, I guess I don’t know what Bellflower prepared, but um...lunch! How about I make a quiche for our lunch when we get back?”

Duly impressed, he said, “You know how to make quiche?”

“I spent a lot of time in the kitchens,” Rhiannon admitted. “Sir Brodrick wasn’t allowed down there after he knocked over the soup meant for the royal luncheon.” He’d been angry at her for something, and the argument had inevitably spiraled out of control. Enraged, Brodrick took it out on anything nearby, thus overturning any pots and pans within arm’s reach. The cook, being the only person Rhiannon knew who could be scarier than Brodrick, chased him out with a butcher’s knife in hand. Afterward, he’d been banned for life, and so Rhiannon spent an increasing amount of time there, being put to work in exchange.

“He did strike me as the sort to waste food,” Taliesin said with a chuckle. It obviously hurt him to do so. “It’s a good thing Bells wasn’t around, or she might have given him a piece of her mind too.” The silkie nodded in wholehearted agreement.

While Bellflower continued to bandage the wound, Rhiannon kept up her chatter. “If I make a quiche, what should I put in it? Oh, but maybe we don’t have the ingredients... I’ll have to see what’s there.”

“The pantry restocks itself,” Taliesin explained. “Anything you need should be in there without you needing to ask.”

“Really? Can anything be done with enough magic?”

“It can be when you have a whole city of witches worried you aren’t eating enough. My mother and her friends convinced themselves that I would starve on a bard’s earnings, so they worked at the spells for months. I still don’t know how they managed to keep it a secret.”

“Really? When did they do all that?”

“About...” He cast about in his memory. “Five years ago? When I turned sixteen.”

Something didn’t add up. “I thought you would’ve lived here your whole life,” Rhiannon commented. The promise had been to marry her to the dragon on Storm Bearer’s Peak, not the dragon of the witch’s city.

Mildly confused, he said, “I have lived here most of my life.”

“But doesn’t your mother live in Magia?”

Comprehension flickered in his tired eyes. “She raised me here with my father. After I earned my Witch’s title and decided to pursue music, they moved. My father went back to the Dragon’s Cauldron and my mother splits her time between the Cauldron and Magia. She always meant to give me this house, so she took the bard thing a little hard.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not here much. I like to travel. Staying in one place makes me itch for an adventure.”

Bellflower finished dressing the wound and prodded Taliesin’s good shoulder before holding out a loose tunic for him to take. Taliesin accepted it, and wincing as he did so, shrugged it on. After making a quick gesture with her chin, the fairy headed back to the house without looking back. “Seems like Bells wants us to follow her.”

Rhiannon looked Taliesin over. “Can you walk?”

“Should be able to. I didn’t lose that much blood.”

Could have fooled me. He’d been deathly pale when she’d found Bellflower giving him first aid. Rhiannon offered a hand. “Here, let me help you up.” He accepted without complaint and leaned heavily on her shoulder the whole way.

Inside, Copper met them and butted his head against Rhiannon’s, then Taliesin’s cheek, nearly sending the bard toppling to the floor. The creature let out a squawk of surprise and concern, but Taliesin waved him off.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just a little tired.” The pixie dragon made a sound that even Rhiannon recognized as disbelief. “Really, I’m fine. I just need to eat a little bit and I’ll be right as rain.”

Bellflower seemed to be in agreement because the “little bit” she’d already dished onto his plate was a mountain of eggs, sausage, and fried potatoes, which she made sure he ate by watching him like a hawk the whole time. He did look a little better afterward—if only because some of the color had returned to his cheeks.

Even so, Rhiannon couldn’t shake the guilt. This had all been her fault. Brodrick had come because she’d been here. If only she had remained at the castle...

Though maybe he would have found Taliesin anyway, whenever Brodrick desired to slay a monster.

At length, she said, “I should go.”

Taliesin set his fork down. “Go?” he repeated dumbly. “Go where?”

“You got hurt because of me. Maybe if I go home, I can convince my father to call off the bounty he has on your head. He probably doesn’t know that you aren’t...” She trailed off, realizing what everyone likely would think of a dragon who held a princess ‘hostage.’

“A monster?” Taliesin supplied.

“You aren’t.”

“But people don’t know that,” he said. “As far as anyone is concerned, dragons and wyverns are one and the same. One’s just bigger and can mimic human speech and shape better.”

“If you come with me—”

“I don’t see this going much better if I meet them in person,” Taliesin sighed. “I’m a bard, a warlock, and part dragon. Royalty tends to frown upon all of those individually. Together, I’m an amalgamation of the worst possible traits for a son-in-law.”

She tangled her shaking hands into her skirt. “They would understand.”

His expression softened. “What is there to understand? A witch wanted a wife for her hell spawn, and you happened to be—”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that!” Rhiannon shouted, catching both herself and Taliesin off guard. She couldn’t meet his gaze. “You aren’t... You’re you, Taliesin. You’re the kindest person I know. If anyone is hell spawn, it’s Sir Brodrick.” She’d never had a nightmare about Taliesin, nor one caused by him. The same could not be said of the knight her father had chosen as a replacement husband.

“Rhiannon...” Cautiously, Taliesin stroked her cheek. “Might I ask...are you here to avoid Brodrick or...?”

She couldn’t look up. She refused to look up. “I came here to escape my marriage to Brodrick,” she admitted, “and to keep that promise, but...”

His heart beat too fast, too loud, and threatened the stitches under his tunic. There was no way she didn’t know. She had to feel it through the palm resting against her cheek—the palm she leaned into ever so slightly. “But?” he prompted.

“I don’t know if...” Frustrated, she clenched the fabric of her skirt all the tighter. “I think maybe I came because I wanted to run away, but I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with you. And it doesn’t have to be here. If you want to travel, I’ll come with you. If that’s...okay with you.”

Why did he lean in? Why did he brush his lips against hers? His body moved on its own. His hand slipped through her hair of its own volition. When she tentatively returned the affection, he truly lost all control. He devoured her lips like a starving man. She let out a startled gasp but didn’t pull away. A small part of his brain acknowledged that she’d frozen, either in fright or shock, and the part that recognized it forced him to pull away.

Their faces were matching shades of crimson, though Taliesin’s faded much more quickly when he realized his shirt was sticky. Somehow, he’d aggravated the wound Bellflower had worked so hard to stanch.

“Taliesin!” Rhiannon cried, the color draining just as quickly from her cheeks. Her chair tumbled back with a clatter. “Bellflower!” she shouted behind her. “Bellflower! Please! Come quick!”

The silkie burst into the room. Expression devoid of emotion, she spotted the red oozing into her employer’s shirt, the flustered, disheveled appearance of their guest, and shook her head. Bellflower shooed Rhiannon away, and once she’d evacuated the room, she smacked Taliesin upside the head.

“I don’t know what happened,” he protested halfheartedly. He could still feel the judgment radiating off her as she roughly yanked up the front of his tunic to see the damage done to her flawless bandaging job. “I really don’t.”

Bellflower shook her head. The look she gave him said, leaving no room for uncertainty, Just admit you like her already.

He groaned in exasperation. This needed to end before he went absolutely insane. “Bells, could you contact my mother?”

He needed her to explain herself. Just what had possessed her to arrange his engagement to Rhiannon in the first place?

Chapter Twelve

They pretended nothing had happened. Simple as that, they went right back to how they’d been the previous week. Breakfast followed by music lessons followed by afternoons spent doing whatever apart from each other. If they pretended it didn’t happen, then it was as good as never happening. Though Rhiannon found herself thinking about him more and more, even when he flew off to play music or gather information on their uninvited guest’s whereabouts and doings.

Every night, he would return before dark, often leaving him absolutely exhausted. “You don’t have to come back every night. Brodrick won’t return for a while until he has new equipment forged, and that could take weeks.” The man was particular when it came to his weapons. He’d once bragged of his exclusive patronage to the best blacksmith in the entire kingdom.

“I’d rather not leave you unprotected,” he said. “I promised to keep you safe.”

“You kept me safe on our way here. You’re free of that promise now.”

“I may have kept the letter of my promise, but the spirit lives on. I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you. You’re too important to me.”

Flustered, she turned away. That was the closest they’d come to acknowledging the events of that morning a week prior. “Is it...” She shook her head. “Never mind. I should go to bed. Sleep well.”

“You as well.”

The awkwardness continued even into their lessons. Taliesin no longer joined her on the piano bench, opting to busy himself with violin accompaniment instead. While they both enjoyed playing together this way, it felt oddly hollow, like something was missing.

Then a new visitor interrupted the forced nonchalance of their routine.

Without warning, the front door swung open, startling them both. Copper took to the air, hissing and snarling while darting from the room toward the intruder. The aggressive sounds ceased abruptly, and for a moment, Rhiannon worried that Brodrick might have cut him down. A sharp, joyful whistle just as quickly dissuaded them of that notion.

“Hello!” called a cheery woman’s voice from the entryway. “I’m not interrupting tea, am I? Bells sent me a message, and I left as soon as I could. I’ve been flying nonstop since yesterday, so I could use a—” The petite woman stopped in the doorway. The surprise on her heart-shaped face lasted perhaps half a second before a mischievous grin stretched her mouth wide. Her tone adopted a distinctly teasing lilt as she observed, “Looks like I am interrupting something.”

Without missing a beat, Taliesin replied, “Not at all.” He gestured toward the empty chair. “You’re just in time for tea. I’m sure Bells already has everything ready for you.”

As if summoned by her nickname, Bellflower appeared from the kitchen with an extra teacup and more snacks. The woman accepted the plate and eagerly snarfed down one of the tea sandwiches before the teacup had been set down.

Another sandwich vanished, this time in two bites. After a swig of tea, the woman commented, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your lady friend here?”

This time Taliesin’s feathers did get ruffled. “Lady friend? Mother! This is Her Highness, Princess Rhiannon! The woman you had promised to me as my wife?”

His mother set her teacup back on its saucer with a clink. “The woman I what now?”

Sighing, he recited the tale in true bardic fashion. “A witch decimated the opposing army from the north and in exchange for her service forced a promise from His Majesty’s lips. His daughter’s hand would be given to the dragon of Storm Bearer’s Peak when she came of age, lest the kingdom share the same fate as the invaders.”

The witch tapped her chin thoughtfully. After the silence stretched to a nearly uncomfortable length, she admitted, “Can’t say I recall that.” She shrugged, not the least bit bothered. “Well then, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Rhiannon. Thank you so much for accepting my son’s hand and—”

“Mother!”

Sheepishly, she backed off. “I was only joking.” She coughed and, after briefly collecting herself and plastering the same winning smile from earlier back on her face, said, “I am the Dragon Witch Gertrude of the major arcana, mate to Spinel and mother to Warlock Bard Taliesin.” She dipped a shallow bow over the table. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Highness. I apologize for any inconvenience my request might have caused you and your family and am genuinely grateful that you followed through. Please treat my son well.”

Automatically, manners kicked in and Rhiannon returned the bow with a slightly deeper one of her own. “It was no trouble—” A hand on her shoulder stopped her, and Bellflower’s tight-lipped expression greeted her when she glanced up.

Taliesin stated for her, “You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble for Rhiannon.”

“Oho~ Rhiannon, is it?”

He ignored her. “Because of you, she’s been engaged to a knight. One who’s willing to butcher a dragon just to drag her back to her family against her will.”

That got her attention. All signs of teasing vanished, replaced with appalled disgust. “Butcher a dragon? Talie, are you hurt?!” She shot a foul look Bellflower’s way. Apparently, the silkie had conveniently left that part out of her letter.

“I was stabbed, but I’m doing better now. You can barely see the cut anymore.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, then she turned to Rhiannon for confirmation. “Is he really doing better?”

“I’m not sure. He seems to be.”

Gertrude frowned. “Seems to be? I would have thought—”

“Mother, please leave Rhiannon out of this.”

“She’s your wife, isn’t she? How would she not know? I’m sure she’s seen you—”

His face practically burst into flames. “Mother!” His gaze darted to Rhiannon’s mirror of his mortification and back. “Watch what you say!”

“What? It’s not like you two haven’t—” She broke off when Bellflower tugged her sleeve. The silkie shook her head, both as warning and confirmation. Gertrude’s mouth fell open in a small, “Oh...” She coughed again to collect herself. Banishing the shock, she said more lightly, “Taliesin, be a dear and fetch me my bag, won’t you? I’d like a word with your wife. In private.”

“Mother...”

“Bellflower will still be here to keep me out of trouble,” she said innocently.

He eyed his mother warily, searching her face for any sign of what she might be up to. Finally, he stood. “Bellflower, if she starts making Rhiannon uncomfortable...” The silkie nodded. Having obtained that reassurance, he stepped out into the hall.

“Take your time!” Gertrude called before returning her attention to Rhiannon. Once the door closed, she said, “I’ve really made a mess of things this time. I’m very sorry for all I’ve put you through. If you’d like, I can go speak with His Majesty and see if I can’t sort all of this out after mating season ends.”

Rhiannon wanted to politely disagree, to say, I doubt there’s much you could say to change my father’s mind about Sir Brodrick, but that last bit gave her pause. Rhiannon’s brow furrowed. “What mating season? If I might ask?”

“Dragons,” Gertrude said with a sigh. “That’s what took me so long to get here after Bells sent me that note. I had to make sure Spinel was okay with me leaving before I could come, and it takes a lot to satisfy my Spinel. Or any dragon, really...” She trailed off at Rhiannon’s beet red face. “Right, sorry. Too much information. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?” She glanced toward the door. “Anyway, I can’t stray from Spinel’s side for long or he’ll be struggling. As soon as I’m able to, I’ll go sort this out.”

“In the meantime,” she continued, “is there anywhere else I can take you? If you aren’t comfortable staying here with Taliesin, we both understand. Especially if you don’t share Taliesin’s feelings. He’s bound to be struggling, and if you aren’t, well, interested in certain activities, shall we say, then it would be better for you to reside elsewhere. For both your sakes.”

She knew she would regret asking and would hate the answer immediately, but the words came out regardless. “To what activities are you referring?”

Gertrude studied Rhiannon a moment. Then quite plainly she stated, “Mating. Between you and Taliesin.” Rhiannon blanched, then reddened despite the response being what she’d expected. Bellflower lightly smacked Gertrude’s shoulder, and rubbing the noninjury, she continued, “Taliesin is part dragon, and it seems to me that he’s paired with you.”

Paired. Rhiannon remembered reading about it in one of Gertrude’s books. Simply put, it was the dragon version of love at first sight, but something stronger, more ingrained, and above all, mutual. Paired dragons mated for life, no question. They also...bred...with a single-minded determination during mating season. Taliesin was part dragon, and if what Gertrude said was true, that he’d paired with her...

So many things came together in that moment, leaving Rhiannon with a sickening, sinking feeling in her stomach. Taliesin’s protectiveness of her, the gentle way he flirted, the passionate kisses that nearly swallowed her body and soul...

And yet she couldn’t believe it—or more accurately, she didn’t want to believe it. “Stop teasing me.”

“I’m not,” Gertrude denied, fast and flat. “According to Bellflower’s message, Taliesin thinks I enchanted him somehow as part of this promise I made—that I don’t remember making, by the way—which makes me think he must have fallen for you and doesn’t understand what’s going on.” From there, her analysis turned clinical, like she was talking about some other dragon and not her own son. “He’s never shown interest in another being, human or dragon, and is confused. He’s attracted to you, and due to timing, well, his biology is fighting with his good sense and romantic heart.”

A wry smile twisted her lips. “He’s in love with you, but knowing him, he doesn’t think he’s known you long enough to have fallen heels over head the way he has. Add to that the, shall we say, joys of the current timing? There are just too many things going on in his brain for him to make sense of any of it.”

Love. It was a word Rhiannon had heard bandied about often enough. Brodrick regularly proclaimed his feelings with the casual force of a charging bull, and with all the sincerity of one. Really, he’d just loved the challenge. Once Rhiannon was another notch in his belt, he would tire of her. The only thing that would keep her around was the status he would obtain by attaching her to him. She might only be the third child of the king, but she was the child of a king. So much higher in rank than the son of a nobleman who was hardly important enough to visit court to bow and scrape.

Taliesin cared little for her title, and why would he? Even without membership in an arcana, his being a warlock arguably trumped hers as third princess. And he was about as likely to inherit the throne through her as she herself was, considering that her older brothers already had large families of their own.

And while he hadn’t said the word, he’d proven it multiple times. Taliesin might think it nothing more than some enchantment, but he’d still kept her safe on their journey when he could just as easily have abandoned her to the guards. He’d chased away her nightmares when he easily could have hurt her instead.

She was his wife, and while she was still sorting things out, she couldn’t imagine herself at someone else’s side. “He won’t hurt me, will he?”

She frowned. “Taliesin is a dragon, not an asshole. And if he does, I will personally—”

Blushing furiously, Rhiannon said faintly, “No, I mean...it won’t hurt, will it?”

Gertrude blinked at her, clearly thrown for a loop. “Wait, you’re staying?”

Flustered, she couldn’t lift her gaze from her teacup. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“There’s always my house in Magia. No one would dare touch you there.”

She amended, “I don’t want to go anywhere else.”

Maybe she’d been on to something, Gertrude thought, asking that Rhiannon be sent here. “Well then, if I might make a suggestion?”

Rhiannon’s eyes flicked up and away. “What sort of suggestion?”

“Talk to him. It takes two to tango. If you have any concerns, he’s the one you should be talking to.” Gertrude selected a crunchy butter cookie to fiddle with for a moment. As an afterthought, she mused aloud, “There is one thing you ought to know that he might not think of. It will probably relieve you to know that Taliesin can’t have children, so you can just let loose.”

Of course, Taliesin chose that moment to return. Mortified, he cried out, “Mother! What have you been talking about?!”

“Oh, just this and that,” she said dismissively. “You should have stayed away longer. We were having such a nice chat.”

“At my expense, it sounds like.” Taliesin’s gold eyes narrowed appraisingly. “Rhiannon, she hasn’t gone overboard, has she?” Rhiannon mutely shook her head. He glanced at Bellflower, who shrugged in the universal yes and no gesture.

Pushing back her chair, Gertrude said, “Suffice it to say that things are sorted out now. Congratulations on your engagement.” Accepting her bag, she dug through it. Finding what she was looking for, she plunked the pocket-size bottle of viscous lavender liquid on the table. “This should cool the blood if need be,” she told Taliesin with a smirk. “Take good care of your cute wife.”

Taliesin snatched the bottle off the table. “Whatever you’ve gotten in your head—”

“Humor your mother. Now, I ought to be heading back. Spinel’s probably worrying his scales off by now.” She snagged the back of Taliesin’s head and forced him to lean forward enough that she could stand on tiptoe to plant a motherly kiss on his forehead. “Toodles.”

“Mother!” But the woman had already slipped out of the house entirely before they could blink. Taliesin chased after her, only to find that she’d already mounted her broom sidesaddle.

She hovered a few feet off the ground, not flying away just yet. “Yes?” she asked in amusement.

“You haven’t undone whatever spell you cast on me!”

“I’ve been far too busy to put any spells on you,” she said cheerfully. “Besides, you made me swear never to cast something on or for you without your permission after the self-tuning violin incident.” She waved. “I filled Rhiannon in. See you in a few weeks!” Gertrude blew a kiss, and off she zipped, leaving the pair alone once more.

Taliesin combed back his bangs with a sigh and returned to Rhiannon’s side in the dining room. She hadn’t moved an inch, though Bellflower appeared to have poured her another cup of tea before vanishing somewhere or other. “I apologize for whatever my mother said to you. She tends to be, well...” And he waved vaguely toward the door.

“It’s all right,” Rhiannon said faintly.

Taliesin hesitated, then knelt beside her chair to take her hands. “Look, whatever she said—”

“She said you paired with me.”

The words came quiet. Taliesin’s head jerked up. Seconds ticked by where neither said anything, waiting on the other. Just as the silence began to drag on too long, Taliesin cleared his throat. “What?”

“You’ve paired with me. And I’m okay with that. I...”

He squeezed her hands. “Rhiannon, I’m not—” Taliesin stopped. Somehow, it felt like lying. Like for Rhiannon before him, things started to add up if he looked at it through this new lens. “This doesn’t mean we have to do anything. I’m sure my mother made it sound like we had to, but dragons aren’t like that.” Again, it felt like lying. Some dragons certainly were like that, but Taliesin was human too, damn it.

He reached for the bottle on the table and popped the stopper. Although subtle, the scent stung Taliesin’s nose as he gave it an experimental sniff. It brought back memories of his childhood, in a way. Gertrude had brewed tons of this while he was growing up, and with the smell alone slowing the pounding of his heart, he began to understand why.

Rhiannon’s hand covered the bottle’s opening. Taliesin blinked, the spell broken. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “What would happen if we... What if I said I wanted to...”

Taliesin went still. “I wouldn’t touch you unless you were sure. Are you?”

“I...” Rhiannon flushed and shyly retreated a step. “I just don’t want you to be in pain. What happens if you try to wait out mating season?”

“I’m not so fragile that waiting would do me harm.”

Taliesin took a swig and made a face at the bitter medicine. Effective it might be, but it tasted vile. He quietly prayed to the Goddess that he’d never have to swallow that tincture again. There was only one way that would happen, however. His cheeks warmed at the thought. Taliesin corked the bottle and pocketed it.

“So...” Rhiannon began but stopped. How could she ask whether it worked without sounding either disappointed or happy? Or, she miserably thought, what did one say when both were somehow true at the same time?

With a small chuckle, he brushed a stray lock of her hair back behind her ear. “It worked just fine. No need to worry. If you’re disappointed, we can revisit this conversation another time.”

Hesitantly, Rhiannon asked, “Will you really be okay if we wait? Please. Tell me the truth.”

She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I don’t want you hurting or feeling lonely or...” Rhiannon averted her eyes once more. All he’d already gone through on her account crowded her thoughts, and that was just what she knew of. “I don’t want you to suffer anymore because of me.”

“This and that are two very different things. Besides, I would be far more upset if you made yourself uncomfortable for my sake. Then I’d be no better than he-who-shall-not-be-named.”

That earned the giggle he had aimed for. Taliesin traced his fingers along her jaw to beneath her chin. With the lightest touch, he tilted her face up to meet his and kissed her gingerly on the lips. He put a little more pressure behind a second kiss and forced himself to retreat.

The need had lessened, but a kernel of it still sat hot in his belly. Maybe that potion hadn’t worked as well on him as they’d hoped.

Chapter Thirteen

Their days returned more or less to normal for the pair, or as normal as it could, given the circumstances. A new shade of awkwardness settled over everything the two did together. Accidental touches while Taliesin played upon the piano with Rhiannon made them both jump and quickly separate. Stray thoughts sent Rhiannon into inexplicable blushing fits that Bellflower seemed to find amusing (if the knowing smiles quickly hidden behind hand or tray were any indication). Taliesin fared a little better, though he attributed this to the tiny bottle already half emptied in his pocket.

If this went on much longer, he might just have to try his hand at potion making again. Taliesin prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

A week later, Bellflower brought out trowels and gardening gloves. It was the afternoon, and they welcomed the distraction. Silent as ever, she pointed first to Taliesin and then to a pile of stakes and roll of twine in the garden. For Rhiannon, she signaled for the princess to follow her for some planting. When and where the fairy had found time to start the dozens of seeds Rhiannon didn’t know, but she couldn’t help smiling at all the little leaves peeking out of labeled pots of dirt.

Bellflower showed Rhiannon what to do and then set to her half of the flower beds. Digging felt good, planting even better. While Rhiannon liked the flowers at the castle, the gardeners had never let her muddy her hands. The most she could hope for was either picking out the color of the roses to be planted or admiring them when they bloomed. Rhiannon patted the dirt around the freshly planted sprout and moved on to the next.

Bellflower threw out an arm, and Rhiannon stopped abruptly. “Is something wrong?” she asked. The silkie pointed, and Rhiannon followed her finger. There in the middle of their garden grew a ring of toadstools of all things. “What on earth...?”

Taliesin glanced over from where he was driving stakes into the dirt for future cucumber vines to climb. “It looks like a fairy ring. When did that get there?”

“A fairy ring?”

Brushing dirt from his palms, Taliesin approached and squatted. “They’re temporary portals to the lands of the Fae. The courts use them occasionally to summon members who have gone abroad.” He thought about it for a moment, then snapped his fingers. His next question he directed at Bellflower. “Has Her Majesty asked you to join her for the Moon Viewing again?”

Bellflower nodded, then gestured both to Taliesin and Rhiannon.

“It seems we’re invited as well,” Taliesin informed Rhiannon. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to refuse after my abrupt exit when last we visited.”

“I would love to come.” Their last visit to the Seelie Court had been somewhat of a whirlwind of joy and fear. Still, she was confident she could handle the exuberance. The Seelie Queen had seemed friendly enough, and the rest of the court followed her lead. And if Bellflower were to join them...

Bellflower clapped her hands and practically glowed with joy. She yanked off her gardening gloves, brushed soil from her gray frock, and grabbed Rhiannon to steer her by the elbow back toward the house. When Taliesin followed, her grin broadened, and she shut the door in his face.

“Bellflower!” Rhiannon cried. “Why did you do that?”

The complaints fell upon deaf ears. Bellflower ushered her up the stairs to her wardrobe. She threw open the doors and pawed through excitedly. Rhiannon had no doubt that if the silent Fae could make a sound, she’d be humming contentedly to herself as she selected dress after dress to hold against the princess before rejecting each in turn. With each choice, a theme began to emerge. Soft yellow or off-white fabric made up each dress, and every single one had been stitched with a garden party in mind.

After the fourteenth such dress, Bellflower settled on one decorated with champagne-colored lace. She nodded, satisfied with the choice, and made Rhiannon change. The Fae then sat the princess down to work out jewelry and makeup appropriate for the occasion.

“It’s not so formal as to need all this, is it?” Rhiannon asked with some concern as Bellflower compared gold and silver showers of stars to clip in Rhiannon’s ears.

The fairy looked askance at the suggestion. Rhiannon lifted her hands placatingly. “I’m sorry. Please choose whichever you think is best.”

Dress and jewelry chosen, and hair braided in a coronet around her head, Bellflower moved on to makeup—something Rhiannon had successfully begged off since coming here. She sat perfectly still while Bellflower painted her lips and lashes. The fairy hadn’t steered her wrong yet, but Rhiannon remembered some rather spectacular failures in Jessica’s ‘art’ over the years.

Bellflower stepped back to admire her handiwork. Beaming, she led Rhiannon to the full-length mirror to see the results of her labor.

Soft pink lips, darkened lashes, a gentle blush on her cheeks. Rhiannon shyly looked away. “You don’t think this is too much?” she asked uncertainly.

The silkie shook her head. She put proud hands upon Rhiannon’s shoulders and smiled brilliantly.

“I... Thank you.”

Bellflower led her downstairs to the parlor, where Taliesin waited. He was dressed in the colorful tunic and cloak of a bard, his violin case beside him on the sofa. He leaped to his feet when they entered. For a few seconds, he could only stare. He remembered himself when Rhiannon shifted uncomfortably under his unblinking gaze. Taliesin cleared his throat. “You look lovely,” he said. “Bellflower really outdid herself.”

“I think she went a little overboard. I feel a little silly in all of this.”

“You look stunning. You always look...” His face reddened, and he coughed into his fist, letting the rest of that sentence play out in his head. “Shall we go?”

Rhiannon consulted the clock on the mantel. “Won’t we be early? It’s only four o’clock.” This early in the spring, night still came early, but not that early.

He offered his arm, which she took. “Remember, the Fae lands run on their own schedule,” he explained. “It’s likely Her Majesty made the sun there set some time ago.”

When they returned to the fairy ring, they found the circle of toadstools changed. Lights like fireflies rose from the white speckles atop the red caps. Lines of glowing green seeped from the stem to connect the fungi in a web of light. At the center of the ring, the grass stood still against the breeze outside it. Rhiannon’s grip on Taliesin’s elbow tightened with nerves. He patted her hand.

“Traveling by ring is a little like when we ignored the will-o’-the-wisp,” Taliesin explained as he brought her closer. “It shrinks the space between here and the veil, so it can mess with your perception and sense of direction. If you feel dizzy, let me know.”

A shiver ran through her at the memory of him vanishing and a tree taking his place. “You won’t disappear?”

“I won’t disappear,” he promised. “I’ll stay by your side the whole way.”

They stepped over the mushrooms into the ring. A blast of wind forced Rhiannon to shut her eyes. The ground beneath her feet seemed to slide out from under her, and she stumbled. Taliesin held her steady until the vertigo lessened and she could open her eyes again.

The world around them had transformed in an instant. Here, night had descended early to cast the world in a darkness lit only by fireflies and the impossibly large full moon hanging above the trees. Strings of gemstones jingled among the branches of low shrubs with the breeze, hemming them in on a path of magical lamplight. Around them, unseen Fae giggled and tittered in the underbrush.

“Shall we?” Taliesin asked. Rhiannon nodded.

A delicate hand tapped their shoulders. When they turned, Bellflower held out a pair of crystalline lanterns hanging from short poles. The one she placed into Taliesin’s open palm had been fashioned into the shape of a dragon’s egg with a light nestled within the sapphire depths. For Rhiannon, she offered a sphere of delicate, silvery vines and flowers. Having given them their lanterns, Bellflower took up one of her own in the form of a simple paper cylinder with flowers painted on the parchment surface.

The silkie led the way down the path toward the very same clearing Rhiannon and Taliesin had visited last time. Around the perimeter, revelers clinked glasses and laughed with delight. Upon a stage at the center, a chorus of birds sang the accompaniment to their festivities. As before, tables held mountains of delicacies arranged in impossible and impressive displays. Glittering sugar flowers topped cakes that defied gravity. An array of fruits had been arranged to depict a mosaic of butterflies on trays. Red wine sprayed in a fountain from the mouths of diamond fishes into a basin surrounded by flutes. A whole roasted boar with an apple in its mouth lounged beside game birds of all shapes and sizes, some so tiny they might have been hummingbirds.

Bellflower led them to the throne and dipped into a reverent curtsy for her queen. “We are pleased to see you’ve joined us,” said the queen in her low, melodic voice. She turned bright green eyes on Taliesin and Rhiannon. “It saddened us that you left without bidding us farewell. We trust you returned safely to your lodgings?”

Taliesin bowed. Rhiannon curtsied beside him. “We did, Your Majesty,” he said. “We would have loved to say goodbye, but the situation being what it was, we didn’t have the opportunity.”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “Yes, the heart beet juice. We pray it did not cause you too much trouble?”

“Not at all, Your Majesty.”

“You lie beautifully, but we can see you no longer wish to discuss this.” The Seelie Queen stepped down from her throne. Addressing Rhiannon, she said, “Rise. Let us take a look at you. We have heard nothing but good from our dear friend Bellflower.”

“I did not know you and Bellflower were friends.”

“Bellflower is friends with many,” the queen replied with a coy grin. “She is an excellent listener, and we’re sure you’ve noticed. And...” Here she dropped her voice so only Rhiannon could hear. “Her baking is delightful. We believe her talents wasted on Taliesin, so it delights us to know he chose you for a mate.”

Rhiannon’s cheeks warmed. The queen’s smile widened. “Ah, but look at you. We shall refrain from saying more on the subject for the time being. Now then, let us be a good host and offer our hospitality. Eat your fill and drink as much as makes you merry.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“We made sure there is no heart beet juice hidden among the refreshments on the table,” the queen added in amusement, “so you only have yourself to blame should you go off elsewhere with Taliesin. Though if you decide to, please let us enjoy his music a while before you do.”

“You tease me.”

“We do,” the queen said unabashedly, “but only because we care. Now go make merry. We have quite the night planned.”

This was no exaggeration. Following the orchestra of birdsong, a group of fairies danced with fluttering silk scarves in hand and jingling golden bells around their ankles. After them, a single fairy sang a ballad while playing her lyre. Acrobats followed, then a poet. Throughout the performances, fairies ate, drank, and celebrated without a care in the world. Some watched, but most chatted or danced and sang among themselves.

Remembering last time, Rhiannon stuck close to Taliesin and politely refused the wine various pixies offered her. Only when Bellflower came with a pair of goblets did she accept, and finding it contained a sweet and floral tea, Rhiannon thanked her for the mild refreshment.

Late into the evening after many performances, Taliesin’s turn to entertain the gathered Fae finally arrived. A gaggle of giggling young fairies took his hands and pulled him into the center of the clearing with his violin. He smiled apologetically at Rhiannon. “It seems I must leave you for a bit. Will you be all right on your own?”

“I’ll be fine. Bellflower is here with me.” The fairy in question nodded and shooed her employer away.

When Taliesin sang, the entire clearing stilled. All eyes and ears stayed fixed on the bard and his instrument. The tale he sang of a lone princess on the moon seeking her lost lover among the stars swirled around them. Fireflies danced around him, charmed by his voice as much as his audience was.

Gracefully sinking beside Rhiannon, the queen commented quietly, “He is quite talented, is he not?”

Rhiannon jumped. She’d been as wrapped up in the music as anyone. “He is.”

The Seelie Queen watched him a few moments longer, then asked, “Might we ask a personal question?”

“It depends on what it is, I suppose.”

“Are you in love with Taliesin?”

Her face warmed. After a long silence filled only with Taliesin’s song, she said, “I am.”

“Then might we involve ourselves with a little light mischief?”

Rhiannon scrutinized the queen’s childlike face. Finding no malice, she inquired, “What were you thinking of?”

Beaming, the queen unclasped a pendant from around her neck and placed it around Rhiannon’s. “O Maiden of the Moon,” she recited with a teasing lilt and a sly grin, “tonight, you shall choose your consort.”

Before Rhiannon could process just what the queen had said, Her Majesty stood and pulled Rhiannon up with her. She gestured for Taliesin to stop. He did so with a flourish and a bow. The queen stepped forth, arm in arm with Rhiannon, and addressed those gathered.

“We have divined our Maiden of the Moon,” she announced to the crowd. “The human princess Rhiannon shall do us the honor of choosing this year’s consort.” Grinning ear to ear, she nudged Rhiannon to take center stage. “Now then, O Moon Maiden,” the queen teased, “choose your consort wisely.”

“Consort?” Rhiannon squeaked.

“’Tis but a tradition,” the queen explained in a low voice. “The maiden spends the night with her chosen consort under the light of the moon. It may be as innocent as you and your consort desire it to be.”

Cheeks burning hotter than the sun and at a loss as to what to do, Rhiannon looked to Taliesin for assistance. The bard sighed. “Your Majesty...”

The queen placed a silver-painted finger upon Taliesin’s lips. “We have made our choice,” she said merrily. “So then, Rhiannon, who shall be the Moon Maiden’s consort this fine evening? Hmm? Hmmmmm?”

As if she didn’t know the answer to that question. Blushing to the tips of her ears, Rhiannon murmured, “Taliesin.”

“A wonderful choice,” purred Her Majesty. She turned back to the gathered Fae and announced for all to hear, “Our Moon Maiden has chosen Bard Warlock Taliesin, dragon of the Storm Bearer’s Peak, son of Dragon Witch Gertrude and Spinel of the Dragon Cauldron.” She then accepted a goblet from the ever-silent Bellflower and lifted it up to the heavens. “We drink to their health and good fortune!”

A cheer rose from their audience as more and more joined in the toast. So many well-wishes left Rhiannon stunned and her ears burning. She almost missed when Bellflower pressed another goblet into her hands.

Taliesin whispered, “We need to link our arms when we drink,” and gently lifted her elbow into position.

Rhiannon uncertainly followed his lead and raised the goblet to her lips. Before she could partake of the blush-colored wine, Taliesin’s hand suddenly covered the goblet’s mouth. His narrowed eyes watched the Seelie Queen’s placid smile.

Deftly, he plucked the goblet from her and tasted a sip. “heart beet juice,” he sighed. “Your Majesty...”

The queen flashed a coy grin at the pair. “We never said a word about the ceremonial wine,” she reminded him. “Oh, very well.” She sighed and gestured to her court. “Bring a fresh drink. Something our friends will not object to.”

Bellflower approached with a pair of crystal goblets filled with an effervescent peach-colored juice. These she offered to Rhiannon and Taliesin with a reassuring smile and gentle pat on Rhiannon’s shoulder. Taliesin quirked an eyebrow in silent question, and Bellflower touched a finger to her own nose.

Taliesin offered his arm once again. Quietly, he told Rhiannon, “Bellflower says she prepared it herself. There shouldn’t be any more problems.” Linking her arm with his, Rhiannon took a sip. Bubbles tickled her nose, and the refreshing tart taste of tropical fruit fizzled across her tongue.

She took another, larger swallow, and when they both lowered their arms, she leaned forward to press her lips to Taliesin’s. A roar of hoots and hollers arose among the assembled Fae. The Seelie Queen hid a giggle behind her hand.

When they parted, Taliesin’s face burned hotter than an inferno. “Rhiannon?”

“I’m tired of waiting,” she whispered.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. The embarrassment finally caught up to her, and Rhiannon hid her face in his chest. He hurriedly wrapped his arms around her to keep her close. “Pardon my rudeness,” he said quickly to their hostess, “but I ought to take Rhiannon home. Now.”

“That won’t do,” tutted the Seelie Queen. “The Moon Maiden must bathe with her consort beneath the moonlight for the whole night. ’Tis fairy tradition.”

Taliesin assured her, “We can do so away from the party.”

The Seelie Queen giggled like the child she currently resembled. “Do not worry, dear Taliesin. We have made appropriate sleeping arrangements for our Moon Maiden and her consort. Shall we have you shown to your bed?”

He looked down at Rhiannon. “Would you like to remain here for a while longer? Or...?”

Rhiannon considered the question. Still blushing, she murmured into his chest, “I think I would like to go to bed. If that’s all right with you.”

“Very well.” The queen turned to Bellflower. “Would you show our maiden and her consort to their suite?”

Somehow, Bellflower being in on this prank didn’t surprise him. Taliesin helped Rhiannon along through the revelers still joyfully toasting to their health and happiness. Soon they left the party behind and passed through an archway made up of ivory branches.

The sound of songs and chatter fell away in favor of the nighttime music of crickets and the breeze through the leaves. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the canopy above, lighting their way better than the lantern Bellflower held aloft. When Rhiannon stopped to look back over her shoulder toward the vanished festivities, Taliesin gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Do you want to go back?”

Her head had cleared enough to be concerned. “No. But how far are we going?”

Taliesin glanced at Bellflower, who motioned to them just before a bend in the path. “Not much farther.”

Beyond the bend, they broke from the trees into a glade filled with sparkling white flowers. At its heart, a wall of roses grew in a tight circle to create something like a room with no roof. Within, a canopy bed stood with wispy netting to deter the insects that called the fairy realm home. Bellflower curtsied to them at the doorway and set about hanging Rhiannon’s lantern from the wall of roses to light their suite. She accepted Taliesin’s and did much the same, adding a soft blue glow to the ethereal moonlight.

She curtsied once more to the pair from outside their suite, then touched the edge of the makeshift doorway. The vines shifted, closing the opening and leaving the pair alone within the ring.

Alone in the moonlight with Taliesin, Rhiannon took a breath to steady her pounding heart. Nerves fluttered in her belly as she asked him, “If... If we...” She cleared her throat, feeling awkward again. “I want you to...” Her cheeks burned, and she averted her eyes. She took another deep breath and forced out in a rush, “I want you to touch me.” Her voice petered out. She swallowed back her nerves and admitted in a shy whisper, “And...I want to touch you too.”

Taliesin’s pulse quickened to match. “Rhiannon, are you sure?”

“Yes.” Her answer came readily. She lifted her eyes and met his gaze. “I want you, Taliesin. Do you want me too?”

“Yes. But we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. It is enough to stargaze until we fall asleep.”

“I don’t want to stargaze.” Rhiannon took a nervous step toward him. “But...if we...and I want to stop...would you be able to control it? Would you be able to stop?”

“Of course. I would do anything for you. Anything you want.”

“I’ve wanted to since...well... I asked you before. So...is it okay? If we try?”

He approached as if she were a frightened fawn that would bolt any minute should he make the wrong move. His heart raced as Rhiannon’s sweet floral perfume tickled his nose. Taliesin tucked a lock of her hair that had escaped her braid behind her ear. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me,” he promised in the fairy tongue, “for the rest of the night.” The night air hummed with his promise.

Their lips met and parted, tentative at first but quickly growing bolder. Taliesin restrained himself until he felt Rhiannon begin to relax. When he briefly retreated for air, she followed with half-lidded eyes. The kisses grew deeper. He risked pulling her closer to him, and though she stiffened at first, she melted into his arms before he could release her.

Breathlessly, they separated, but only long enough for Taliesin to suggest they relocate. Rhiannon, blushing and unable to speak, simply nodded. They moved to the bed, and after peppering her with a few more kisses, Taliesin slid the fabric of her dress from her shoulders.

Time lost meaning in each other’s arms. Not an inch went unexplored, and for each gentle touch to his person, Taliesin returned it threefold. Not once did she have to use her power over him, and yet somehow, he listened to each unspoken request.

In his arms, she knew herself safe and loved. In his bed, she felt alive. Rhiannon tugged him closer, and Taliesin pressed kiss after kiss to her burning skin, showering her in love. She might have drowned in his golden eyes if not for his breath in her lungs and his hands keeping her afloat in these unfamiliar waters. She would be happy to remain lost forever so long as she had him.

Chapter Fourteen

Solid warmth before her, scaley blue webbing above, a fluffy blanket cocooning her against the subtle rise and fall of a bare scarred chest. Rhiannon’s eyes fluttered shut again. She stretched, her legs tangling with his. Strong arms squeezed her lightly. Rhiannon whined softly and pushed against him.

“Bathroom,” she mumbled sleepily. The wing protecting her lifted. Rhiannon stumbled from Taliesin’s bed and awkwardly groped for where she’d discarded her dressing gown. Three weeks they’d been doing this. Summer was right around the corner, and with it, the end of mating season was fast approaching. She still wasn’t entirely accustomed to waking up at Taliesin’s side. The rest she’d gotten used to in a disconcertingly short time, but maybe it was due to his eagerness to please. Her cheeks warmed as she tied her robe tightly around her. Taliesin just made it so easy.

The sun had just topped the mountain wall surrounding Taliesin’s cottage, casting watery shadows in the valley. The only remaining morning person lately was Bellflower, what with Rhiannon’s sleeping in having infected Taliesin as well. Or maybe that was the late nights they often shared these days. The crimson creeped down her neck and up to her ears. Though she never thought twice about their trysts in the moonlight, it would be a while yet before she stopped feeling awkward in the light of day.

After concluding her business and washing up for the day, Rhiannon poked her head into her old dressing room. As usual, Bellflower waited with a dress and accessories already laid out. The silkie helped her change and brushed her hair, something Rhiannon had come to understand the woman delighted in. From what Taliesin had said, the fairy saw readying Rhiannon for the day the same way an indulgent older sister might feel about a younger sibling. And Rhiannon served the purpose far better than he did.

A letter waited for them when Rhiannon and a sleepy-eyed Taliesin finally made it to the dining room for breakfast. Taliesin popped the seal and shook out the fancy folded paper. “It looks like an invitation,” Rhiannon commented while he scanned the neat lines.

“That’s because it is. Arthur’s Naming Ceremony has been set, and he’d like us to come celebrate.”

Rhiannon paused in spreading clotted cream on her scone. “Naming Ceremony?”

“When witches and warlocks reach the end of their apprenticeships and move up to journeymen, they get a Witch’s name. Like how I’m the Warlock Bard or my mother is the Dragon Witch. Looks like they set it for next week.” His brow creased as he kept reading. “Well, that’s inconvenient...”

“What is?” She peered down at the folded parchment. Runes decorated the page. Maybe that was the invitation itself? It could be the only explanation, considering nothing on the page stood out that she could make sense of.

“Arthur asked me to come up with the name,” he said with a sigh, “so I’ll have to be there to bestow it upon him.”

“He didn’t ask Lady Gertrude?”

Taliesin snorted. “Most people don’t ask her to name them after what happened with the Seaweed Witch.”

“The Seaweed Witch?”

“Mother came up with the name at the last minute and poor Matilda had to petition the council to get it changed to just Sea Witch. Honestly, my birth name is probably the only good one she’s come up with.”

Interesting. Rhiannon took a bite of her scone. “I wouldn’t mind coming along,” she said, “if they’ll have me.”

“I’m sure my mother and Arthur would love to have you,” he assured her, “and in fact, I’m certain that they, like me, wouldn’t want you by yourself here with that knight still out there.”

All the warmth seemed to escape the room. Rhiannon sat rigidly in her chair, fear seizing her heart. Tucked away in their cozy mountaintop abode, the constant sense of danger had finally drifted from her mind.

Taliesin slipped out of his chair and rounded the table. Tugging her into a hug, he promised, “I won’t let anything happen to you. You are safe.” He stroked her hair until he felt her begin to relax.

To help distract her, he changed the subject back to the Naming Ceremony. “There’s always a huge party after the Naming. You won’t be able to attend the ceremony itself as it’s just for witches, but that only takes an hour or so.” He called over to the kitchen, “Did you hear that, Bells?” The silkie poked her head out and nodded. “Think you could pack a few things for us to head out in a couple of days?” The silkie curtsied her reply.

And so three days later, Rhiannon stepped out of the cottage to find the blue dragon crouched, waiting for Bellflower to tie a trunk to his back. Taliesin bowed his head to Rhiannon and nuzzled her affectionately. “We’ll get there much faster if we fly,” he said. “Are you comfortable sitting on my back? Or would you prefer I carry you?”

Bellflower handed Rhiannon Taliesin’s pair of goggles. “I think I’d feel silly riding you,” she admitted.

Laughter rumbled deep in his chest and sent vibrations through the ground. “I could be your dashing steed for an afternoon,” he said. “But if you’d rather, I can carry you. It might be more comfortable that way.” She agreed, and after carefully settling in his talons, which he cradled to his chest, they took to the air.

Daylight agreed with her more than the twilight of her previous flight had. Below, she could see the forests and sparkling lakes as they zipped past. From their height, houses and farms looked more like oversized children’s toys than real buildings. No one so much as glanced up at them as they passed. Rhiannon suspected this was due to magic, and she had confirmation when her shouted question made Taliesin chortle an affirmative.

Flying proved so much faster than horseback. What took them nearly a week in one direction turned into a mere half a day’s flight. By evening, Taliesin glided low over the fields surrounding the Witch City of Magia. Here he needn’t glamour themselves as a large cloud, and so he shed it in favor of continuing to tiredly pump his wings.

“Are you okay?” Rhiannon called up to him. Her eyes darted to the thin, uneven line bisecting his scales, afraid that the healed wound bothered him.

“I haven’t flown like this in a long time,” he admitted. His wings slowed, they drifted lower, and he had to redouble his effort to keep aloft.

“For this long or in this form?” When he’d gone to gather information and play the simple bard, she’d seen him always in his hybrid form: human but for wings, tail, and horns.

He swung his long neck back and forth, seeking a good spot to land. “Both.” Spying the perfect place, he snapped his wings out wide to glide for a safe, if less than graceful, landing.

His back feet touched down, and awkwardly flapping his wings to keep his balance, he stumbled a few steps. Rhiannon clung to his thumb curled above her, jarred by the motion. A few more steps, and he both regained his balance and came to a stop. Taliesin carefully set his princess on the ground and their luggage beside her. Moments later, his scales bubbled, and his body shrank. In a few seconds, Taliesin the bard stood before her—naked as the day he was born. Rhiannon’s face burned as she hurried to unlatch the trunk to give him something to wear.

Once dressed in a colorful ensemble with a star-embroidered cape (that Rhiannon thought for sure must have been a joke), Taliesin consulted the sky. The sun still sat well above the horizon, but it wouldn’t stay there forever. “It’ll still be a bit of a walk. Want me to fly us the rest of the way?”

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you,” Rhiannon said, shaking her head. “You’ve done more than enough.” She too checked the sun’s position and estimated just how far the city in the distance stood from them. “We should have plenty of daylight to get there. Unless you need to rest?”

Taliesin stretched one leg, then the other. Limbered up, he hefted the trunk just enough to somehow stuff it into the much smaller satchel he had retrieved from it. The new item weighed nothing for him to sling across his back between his wings. “I’ll manage. Let me know if you need a break.”

Stars twinkled to life above their heads just as the first buildings boxed them in. Much like their first visit, plenty of friendly faces peeked out of shuttered businesses and windows to give their greetings and congratulations on his recent engagement. Taliesin accepted each with grace and the appropriate amount of appreciation.

“They must have heard from my mother,” he sighed, leading Rhiannon down one side street to avoid a crowd meandering in the square. “Sometimes I wonder where she finds the time.”

Rhiannon giggled. “I get the feeling that news travels fast among the witch community.”

He grinned. “You’ve got that right. The only thing that travels faster than good news is the news you don’t want anyone knowing about. I’m willing to bet that the results of my disastrous potion making broke land-speed records.”

Rhiannon waved back to the resident of an upper window. “Why? What happened?”

“My scales turned purple for a week.” He cringed at the memory. “I refused to leave my room until they went back to normal, but word still somehow got out. Mother swore it wasn’t her doing.”

“Maybe it was Tabitha?” She was the Seeing Witch, after all.

He rolled his eyes. “Not that she would ever fess up.”

A magic carpet slowed and descended. “Taliesin! Long time no see,” called the tanned man riding it with a grin. “Check out my new ride. Fancy, ain’t it?”

“Always is,” Taliesin replied. “Mind if we hop on?”

“Heh, not showing off for your bride now that you’ve got her?” He leaned forward and in a stage whisper said, “That’s why Calli dumped me, you know. He got fed up with me not doing my job.”

Taliesin didn’t look bothered. “I flew the whole way here. Asking for help now hardly counts as not doing my job.”

“You flew?” He shook his head, impressed. “Yeesh. You really were showing off there. Here, climb on.” With his help, they reached their final destination in no time at all. Waving their farewells, they headed inside.

Crackers popped and streamers shot every which way, littering their hair with colorful confetti. Three people grinned at them, two humans and a scaly humanoid, spent party toys still held aloft. Gertrude tossed her cracker aside and threw her arms around her son and future daughter-in-law. “It’s so good to see you!” she cried. “You two seem to be doing well.” The witch even had the audacity to waggle her eyebrows.

“We are doing well, thanks.” Taliesin didn’t bat an eye. Rather, he was far too busy staring at the being covered head to toe with gem-like blue scales. “Um, father, might I ask what you’re doing here? I thought you hated glamouring.” The dragon had once described it as trying to stuff oneself into a mole’s tunnel, a feeling Taliesin had grown to understand when he cast one himself.

Spinel put two heavy, taloned hands on Gertrude’s shoulders, drawing her away from the still stunned Rhiannon. “Your mother insisted I be here. Something about witch tradition requiring the parents to be present on occasions like these.”

Confused, Rhiannon glanced at the very human Arthur. In no way did the witch’s apprentice resemble Gertrude or Taliesin, unless it was the most impressive glamour ever created. “For Arthur’s Naming Ceremony?”

Nonplussed, Spinel whispered in Gertrude’s ear, “What did you tell them exactly?”

Gertrude smiled innocently, which did not bode well in the least. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Anyone who had known her more than five minutes knew Gertrude rarely prepared the best surprises. Anticipating a need for punishment, Spinel nipped his mate’s ear. The intimate gesture might have made Rhiannon hurriedly turn away if not for the yelp and swat to the dragon’s chest from Gertrude. Dragons, she reminded herself from the book she’d studied up with, often nipped to chastise family. That didn’t stop the blush from blossoming on her cheeks, however.

While his parents were busy inadvertently embarrassing Rhiannon, Taliesin looked to Arthur for explanation. “What was she planning?”

“A knot-tying,” Arthur said, adding almost apologetically, “I tried to tell her not to, but you know how Lady Gertrude gets when an idea pops into her head.”

Rhiannon welcomed the distraction from the pair lovingly bickering. “What’s a knot-tying?”

“It’s a witch’s ceremony, kind of like a marriage,” explained Arthur. “It’s a lot more informal than most weddings, but it serves the same purpose. Two lovers tie themselves together with a rope, binding their futures to one another’s. There’s no magic to it,” he added, “and it’s not like some registry has all the knotted couples listed somewhere. It’s a vow between witches. Oh, but I guess the Council would have a record of it, since it’s a promise and all that, but it’s not as legally binding as in your kingdom. If that makes sense.”

“Don’t you think you guys are rushing things a bit?” Taliesin asked flatly.

“Nothing’s rushed when it comes to true love,” tittered Gertrude. “I did well, picking her for you. My foresight rivals Tabitha, I tell you!”

Rolling his eyes, “Careful, your ego’s showing.”

Spinel snorted, and licks of flames spat from his nose. “Now, now, your mother still has a point. You’ve found your mate. I might not understand the need for this knot-tying, but humans like this sort of thing.”

It might not be true of all humans, but Rhiannon certainly counted herself among those that did. Tempting though it was, she couldn’t agree to it. Not yet. “If it’s all the same,” she said quietly, “I would prefer we wait as well.”

Taliesin didn’t seem bothered or surprised. “Of course. I’m sorry they’re trying to rush you into—”

She shook her head. “It’s not that. Like Lord Spinel said before, parents ought to be present for this sort of thing.” Hers included. “After the Naming...could we go visit mine? I want to explain everything properly to them. I’m sure they won’t like my marrying a warlock or a bard”—she couldn’t help giggling—“but it’s certainly better than the dragon they thought was going to eat me.”

Confused, Spinel said, “Dragons don’t eat people. Wyverns might, but dragons—”

“We know that,” Gertrude said, batting lightly at his chest, “but parents get weird ideas in their heads when witches ask that their only daughter marry someone they’ve never met.”

“I wonder why,” Taliesin said, the sarcasm more affectionate than mocking. Turning to Rhiannon, he assured her, “After the Naming Ceremony’s over, I’ll take you back to the capital. I ought to meet my future in-laws, even if they have low opinions of bards and warlocks.”

“Look on the bright side,” Rhiannon said with a smile, “if they’re embarrassed enough, they won’t want a flashy royal wedding. Maybe a knot-tying will be enough.”

“We can only hope,” he agreed, grinning at the imagined mixture of relief and horror on the king and queen’s faces. If reality were even half as good, it would be so satisfying.

Chapter Fifteen

Naming Ceremonies took a lot of work, and Rhiannon was glad to help. She might not be able to attend Arthur’s Naming herself, but after receiving his new title there would be a giant feast, which needed all hands on deck to prepare for. Being one of the few adults in the entire city not attending, Rhiannon was made second-in-command to the not-the-least-bit-magical wife of one of the council witches. Together, they’d been placed in charge of a gaggle of apprentices and children, the handful of other mundane humans, and a perplexed dragon that had once again squished himself into a humanlike shape to assist. However, how much the latter helped was up to debate. So far, the only thing he could be trusted with was hanging the lanterns.

While the children cheered on the flying lizardman, Rhiannon cubed an assortment of vegetables for the colorful skewers traditional at such functions. Mushrooms, peppers, various summer squashes, purple onions, something resembling a sweet potato that the others swore would cook just as quickly as the rest, and a few more besides that she did not know the names of... All went into their own separate bowls for the kids to skewer. But no matter how many bell peppers she cut, that bowl remained mysteriously low compared to the others. Rhiannon reached for another only to find the bin she pulled from empty.

“Did we run out of peppers?” called the woman in charge from where she was fanning the charcoal to life.

“I don’t know how.” Rhiannon could have sworn she chopped just as many of those as the rest. A few small voices sniggered. Correction: Now she did know, but she didn’t mind. Kids eating their vegetables was never a thing to complain about. Picking up the bin, Rhiannon called over her shoulder, “I’ll go get some more from Lady Gertrude’s. I’m sure I saw a bunch in the pantry.”

The woman breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

Rhiannon headed up a few blocks, past musicians tuning their instruments and stalls setting up for selling toys and games, toward Gertrude’s home. She took a shortcut down the alley, which took her straight out of the festival atmosphere and into quiet solitude. Even here away from the hustle and bustle, strings of jars holding artificial fairy lights glimmered to light the way. The entrances to little hole-in-the-wall restaurants, normally open wide to lure in customers with delicious smells and chaos of conversation, were all shut tight with signs apologizing for any inconvenience...as if someone might wish to eat there instead of at the massive party in the square.

Ahead, something clunked as it fell, startling Rhiannon from her cheery stroll. Heart in her throat, she inched forward, half expecting something to leap out at her. Something did, but nothing threatening. A cat meowed its complaint at a disturbed nap, and Rhiannon relaxed. What was she expecting anyway? In a city full of witches, it wasn’t like a monster was waiting to leap out of nowhere to attack—

A powerful, gloved hand caught her wrist and wrenched her into the shadow of an empty storefront. Another clapped over her mouth before the shriek could escape her throat. Hot breath steamed against her cheek. Wide eyes met cool ones black as pitch—ones she knew well. Her heart plunged into her twisting stomach. Brodrick. What was he doing here?

“To think I’d find you here of all places.” He sneered. “I intended to bring His Majesty’s orders to the council to force some witch to forge a dragon-killing blade, but you’re an even better prize. Once I bring you back home, I’ll have all the time in the world to exterminate that beast.”

Her pulse stuttered, her knees grew weak, and if not for Brodrick holding her up, she’d have collapsed. Rhiannon tried to pull away to beg him to leave Taliesin out of this. He must have thought she was trying to escape, for his grip tightened until she whimpered in pain—not that Brodrick cared. If anything, he seemed to delight in her discomfort. It meant he controlled her now.

To be safe, he tore the scarf she’d tied around her waist and gagged her with the blue silk. Certain now that she couldn’t call for help, he threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Rhiannon kicked and squirmed, but all it bought her was a bruise to her temple when Brodrick swung his fist, knocking her senseless for the rest of his dash to freedom. Her large basket crunched under his foot in his hasty retreat. He stuck to the backstreets, and any time they needed to cross a main thoroughfare, he cautiously checked his surroundings before slipping back into the cover of shadowed alleys.

His horse waited impatiently for his master’s return at an inn far from the hullabaloo of the celebration. Sensing the urgency, the stallion snorted and stomped. The beast kicked at the stall door, eager to gallop as fast as the knight would allow.

Brodrick dumped Rhiannon against the stacks of hay to gather his tack. While he saddled up his steed, she struggled to get her bearings. Even if she had known the city well and been more than half conscious, Rhiannon wasn’t sure she could find her way back to the others after so many twists and turns. Circumstances being what they were, if she could rally enough to run for it, maybe she could find help. But from whom? Everyone was at the Naming, and if they weren’t at the Naming, they were readying the celebration for after. She couldn’t outrun him—at her fastest she could never beat him in a footrace. Without the advantage of terrain and with a mild concussion, she didn’t stand a chance.

Before she could make a decision, Brodrick scooped her up and tossed her over the front of his saddle so that the pommel dug painfully into her side. He lashed her hands behind her back and the rest of her to the saddle so she couldn’t roll off—not without the risk of injury by dragging or trampling, at any rate. He mounted behind her, and with a sharp kick, the horse sprang into action.

Hooves clattered against cobblestone, leaving sparks and the gentle, magical glow caused by stepping on stones in their wake. Rhiannon could only pray someone would see and follow. She squeezed her eyes shut, and with a desperate fervor, she repeated one name over and over, as if that alone could summon him to her side: Taliesin.

~*~

Solemn as the ceremony was, Taliesin found it difficult to stand still while waiting for the procession to make their way through the sacred grove to the altar of their Goddess. A breeze rustled the branches overhead and ruffled his loose hair, and not for the first time, he wished he’d asked Rhiannon to either cut it or tie it back for him. But things had been hectic, and they hadn’t had the chance. As it was, in a house full of family, they’d barely had any time alone together. Maybe that was why he was so antsy. The start and end of mating season varied for individual dragons. Maybe his hadn’t ended yet.

Thinking those sorts of thoughts felt inappropriate standing beneath the Goddess’s statue, and he quickly banished them in favor of something more pious...or at least the situation at hand. While he’d settled on a title for his mother’s apprentice, presentation was just as important as the name itself, especially when the one presenting the name was a performer by trade. They hadn’t reached the altar yet. He could run through it again in his head.

“Taliesin.”

...Definitely still at the tail end of mating season if he was imagining her voice now. He pushed the stray daydream away and focused on his task. Arthur’s specialty was potion making. Taliesin would give a few words about his abilities and the concentration needed to perfect such a trade. He could include a few self-deprecating remarks on the matter too, so it wouldn’t get too dry. Arthur had to have heard stories about the disasters Taliesin often put together. He’d appreciate the laugh after such a taxing day.

“Taliesin.”

He tapped his heel impatiently. Or I can just keep it short to get back to my mate. Sweep her off her feet, steal her away from the party if she responded favorably... Aaaand he really needed to stop thinking about that. The Goddess was a patient being, but benign? Not always. It wouldn’t do to get Arthur’s name cursed day one just because his lizard brain wouldn’t shut up.

“Taliesin!”

He frowned. That one wasn’t like the other imagined invitations. This one sounded desperate. Taliesin turned his head as if he could pinpoint the source of the summons that had to be entirely in his mind. From the corner of his eye, he saw the grove’s sprites peeking out from behind the trees. Odd. The tree spirits always shied away from even small groups of worshippers. They only came out when Taliesin came alone to offer music to the Goddess.

One of the bark-like creatures beckoned to him. Taliesin glanced back at the procession. He couldn’t just leave his post, but if the tree spirits wanted him...

The veiled witches and warlocks took their positions at either side of the altar. The soft glow of the magic lights atop their raised staves cast a gentle brilliance over Arthur as he knelt before Taliesin. Again, Taliesin hesitated until his mother prodded him in the ankle with her toe.

“Arthur,” he began.

“Taliesin!”

He sucked in a sharp breath. She was crying. Somehow, Taliesin knew Rhiannon was crying out for him. He licked his dry lips and swallowed the lump in his parched throat. “Arthur,” he began again, “I bestow upon you the name of the Elixir Warlock. Whether it’s as mundane as cooking or magical as brewing liquid luck, you have shown both a love and talent for...”

His name on the wind made him falter. Rhiannon needed him. “You have shown both a love and talent for potion making. Thus, your name is Elixir Warlock. Congratulations on moving on to the next stage of your journey in magic.” Gertrude tilted her head in question at his stumbling and rush. Taliesin didn’t answer as he took the freshly carved staff and offered it to Arthur.

The graduated apprentice recognized the urgency plain as day on his face. He took it and bowed his head. “Thank you,” he said, hurrying through the motions required by centuries of tradition. “I will treasure the name you have gifted me.”

With that, the ceremony was over. Taliesin broke into a run much to the shock of those around him. Gertrude called his name, but he hardly heard her as the trees swallowed him. The Fae whispered to him, reporting to him what the expansive root system of the sacred ash trees had learned. Rhiannon stolen. Rhiannon bound and gagged. Rhiannon in the hands of that knight.

Fabric tore as Taliesin’s body exploded in blue scales. A roar erupted from his elongated throat. With a leap and a flap of his wings, a lithe dragon took to the air. Higher and higher, he climbed. Circling, he searched the plains surrounding the Witch City. There! Crossing the great expanse, avoiding the main roads, a galloping stallion threw up a cloud of dust under its thundering hooves.

Taliesin put on a burst of speed. His wings clamped close to his body, and he dove toward them. At the last second, just before the point of no return where he would crash into the ground, his wings snapped back open. He twisted midair and spun round to land before the horse, rider, and prisoner.

Faced with such an opponent so suddenly, the warhorse screamed and frothed as it reared back. The knight gripped the reins in one hand and shoved Rhiannon roughly against the saddle lest she fall. The cruel handling of his mate made something in Taliesin snap.

“Release her,” he snarled, teeth flashing. “Release my mate or suffer the consequences.”

“Your mate?” Brodrick sneered, dismounting and drawing his lance in one smooth movement. “I think you are mistaken there, beast. The princess belongs to me.”

Taliesin’s pupils narrowed to slits. “Rhiannon is no one’s property.” He paced back and forth, watching, weighing his options. He needed to rescue her, but armed as he was, that knight could easily hold his own. Rhiannon wouldn’t appreciate him killing the man either. Even if he deserved it for kidnapping Taliesin’s precious mate.

“Release her,” he repeated, crouching low, ready to pounce. His tail swished back and forth, thumping against the stones and trees around the road. “I will kill you if I must.” It was a lie. At least, he thought it was a lie. The longer this man pointed that lance at him, the longer he denied him his mate, the more the urge to rip him limb from limb grew.

“Not if I kill you first.” The tip of the lance struck the ground, and with a slash, dirt and mud flew through the air and splattered in Taliesin’s eyes. The dragon reeled back, and Brodrick charged. Taliesin lashed out, tooth and claw snapping and groping blindly. His fangs came too close to something, catching hair. The horse shrieked and snorted. Hissing, Taliesin drew back. He’d almost hit Rhiannon.

Brodrick laughed. “Worried about my wife? What a courteous monster.”

Speaking gave Taliesin a target. His tail smashed into the ground, just missing Brodrick but knocking the knight off-balance regardless. His ear caught the sound of kicked gravel, and he lunged for it, teeth bared. His jaw snapped shut around flesh and bone. Hot, metallic blood spilled into his mouth as his teeth sank in. Human blood. His second eyelids at last cleared the dirt blinding him.

Too late he retreated. Though Taliesin had bitten down with enough force to break the bone, he hadn’t gotten Brodrick’s sword arm. The spear flashed again and found its sheath in Taliesin’s chest. An inhuman bellow accompanied the spray of crimson gore and blinding pain when the spear withdrew, and again Brodrick stabbed at the stained scales.

This time, the wooden pole snapped when the metal sank in just above his collarbone. Blood poured from the injury, far too much for it to be a flesh wound. If Taliesin could think beyond the pain, he’d have recognized that. But in that moment, all he cared about was getting Rhiannon and getting her away to safety. He spread his wings, aiming to take to the air and swoop for his bride. He’d take the horse too if necessary. If only his limbs would cooperate.

The world blurred and dimmed. His wingbeats weakened. His forepaw gave out. Taliesin pitched sideways. The ground shook with his collapse. He struggled to rise from the scarlet puddle forming around him. Pain lanced through him, and his neck no longer could support his head. It was all he could do to keep from falling in such a way that would drive the spear tip deeper.

Metal slid from its sheath. Brodrick lifted a new sword, a menacing sneer and a splatter of blood marring his features. “Allow me to put you out of your misery, beast.”

“Don’t hurt him!”

Brodrick paused and looked back. Taliesin labored to lift his head enough to peer past him. In his near miss, he’d shredded the ropes binding Rhiannon, and she had taken the opportunity to tear off her gag. Rather than escape, she flung herself at Brodrick and seized the arm holding his sword.

“Don’t kill him,” she half sobbed. “Please. Leave him alone.”

It was nothing for the knight to shake her off. “This thing needs to be exterminated, or it will come after you again.”

“If you kill him, I’ll—” She glanced around desperately. A splinter of the spear, large and sharp enough to act as a weapon, lay in the grass a few feet from her. She lunged for it and placed it over her own heart. “If you kill him,” she said, forcing her shaking voice to steady, “I’ll kill myself too.”

“All this for a beast?” The knight waved a hand toward the dragon that struggled to remain conscious. “It’s dead anyway. I’ll just be finishing the job.”

“Don’t kill him,” Rhiannon repeated. “If you spare him, I’ll come with you willingly.”

“No!” The shout gurgled in Taliesin’s throat, dislodging something he hacked up. Thick globs of red splattered in the dirt.

Rhiannon offered a watery smile. “I’ll be okay,” she said faintly. “I couldn’t live with myself if you died because of me.”

Brodrick snatched the spike from her hand and tossed it aside. “Don’t be a fool, Your Highness,” he spat. “That thing doesn’t give a damn about you other than what you taste like.”

“He is my husband,” Rhiannon said with a confidence she didn’t feel with Brodrick towering over her, “and loves me more than you ever could.” The back of his hand struck her cheek, sending her sprawling in the dirt. Taliesin roared in anger and struggled to rise. Smoke puffed uselessly from his nostrils, the blood in his throat quenching whatever flame he tried to summon. “I’m okay,” she said, pushing herself to hands and knees. “Don’t move. You’ll make your injuries worse.”

Brodrick yanked her up by the arm with his good hand. “I’ll leave the beast alone,” he finally relented, if only because the dragon would be in its death throes shortly. With her current behavior, he couldn’t be sure Rhiannon would cooperate if she saw the creature bleed out. “Come with me.”

This time, he didn’t tie her up. He simply hefted her into the saddle and settled behind her. Rhiannon cast a desperate glance behind her at Taliesin. Brodrick gave his steed a kick to the sides, and off they went.

Tears rolled down her cheeks that she did nothing to stop. Rhiannon wasn’t stupid. She’d seen just how much blood had pooled around him and she knew what it meant. Sobs racked her frame, ones Brodrick wouldn’t have soothed away even had he not been in a foul temper. She’d saved Taliesin from an instant death only to condemn him to a slower, agonized one. One he needn’t have suffered at all if he hadn’t fallen in love with her.

She should have just stayed at the castle. Then, she never would have met Taliesin, and he wouldn’t have ended up like this. He’d have kept traveling and singing and never known her or the threat to his life. Rhiannon wouldn’t have known this bitter ache in her chest, nor the regret of losing someone so dear to her. She should have just suffered through a life with Brodrick. Then Taliesin might have lived.

It’s all my fault. And now he was dead. All because of her.

The sight of his scales stained red with blood would haunt her for the rest of her days. All my fault.

Her heart hurt. She couldn’t get any air in her lungs. All my fault.

The world went black. She slumped in the saddle, and Brodrick hurried to catch her before she fell.

Chapter Sixteen

Jessica nearly dropped her basket of laundry. “What did you say?!”

The winded valet gasped, “Sir Brodrick has returned...with Her Highness... He’s been hurt... Broken arm and all... But Her Highness...looks to be...all right.” He gulped down a bit more air and straightened. “Well, mostly all right,” he amended. “Heard from one of the guards stationed at the gate that she looked unwell. Must’ve been rough, being held hostage by a dragon for so long.”

Being held hostage by Brodrick, more like. Jessica shoved her basket into the valet’s liveried chest and took off. He scrambled to catch it before the basket and all the clean sheets hit the dirt. Belatedly, she called over her shoulder, “Take that inside for me, won’t you, Tom?” Folding laundry could wait. Right now, her mistress was top priority.

It required a bit of asking around, but eventually she found someone who knew where to locate the wayward princess. A few older maids scoffed and shouted after her for running in the halls and hiking up her skirts. As usual, Jessica ignored them. Sliding down the balustrade would earn her a tongue-lashing later, but she would bear it if only to reach Rhiannon that much sooner.

Jessica found Rhiannon alone in a parlor not far from the throne room, looking haggard. Her normally good posture was replaced by a hunch. The normally warm, if tired, smile she’d send Jessica’s way never appeared. Instead, red-rimmed eyes turned upon her without expression, and Jessica saw her cheeks red and raw like she’d been scrubbing at them for hours.

Fearing the worst, Jessica knelt at Rhiannon’s side and placed a tentative hand on her knee. Unsure what to say, she opted for, “Welcome home, Your Highness.”

Rhiannon averted her gaze. Jessica gave her knee a gentle squeeze. “It’s presumptuous of me to ask, but is something the matter— Oh, who am I kidding? Something is definitely the matter! Brodrick didn’t do something to you, did he? I swear I’ll... I’ll steal all his left socks so he’ll never have a matching pair again if he’s done anything to you.”

Normally Jessica’s facetious threats would earn a watery smile, but Rhiannon’s fell further. She shook her head. “Not to me.” The words stuck in her throat. “He killed...killed my...” Rhiannon trembled.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Jessica asked naively. “The dragon took you, didn’t it?”

Rhiannon shook her head vehemently. “He didn’t take me. I went to him,” she bit out. “I couldn’t marry Sir Brodrick, so I went to keep that promise.” Tears she thought had dried up came anew, streaking fresh salty tracks down her face. “He was so kind to me, and I repaid him with...with...”

Hang propriety. Jessica threw her arms around her friend. “Shh, shh,” she soothed, tucking Rhiannon against her chest and gently rocking. Her mistress clung to her like a woman drowning. A weak wail issued from Rhiannon’s throat. “You did nothing wrong. Brodrick’s the one who did it.”

“I stopped him,” she keened. “He was going to finish him, but I stopped him. Because of me, he didn’t get a quick death.”

Jessica stroked her hair, finding it surprisingly soft in spite of how she and the rest of the castle’s residents assumed Rhiannon had lived the last few months. Maybe dragons lived in luxury and not caves. “I hear dragons are tough,” she said. “Maybe he got back up after you left or someone found him and took care of his injuries.”

True. They hadn’t been far from Magia. Perhaps when they noticed she and Taliesin had vanished, someone tracked him down. With so much magic, they could have saved him...if he didn’t die while awaiting rescue. Rhiannon slumped like a marionette with strings cut. Jessica kept stroking her hair.

“Did Their Majesties see you yet?” Rhiannon nodded but said nothing. That was fine by Jessica. If her mistress wasn’t up to conversation, she wouldn’t force it.

“Shall I have someone prepare a bath for you?” Rhiannon shook her head. “A snack, then? I’m sure it’s been a long ride.” Another shake of the head. “Should I escort you back to your room and let you rest?”

“Don’t leave me alone,” Rhiannon whispered.

“I’ll stay as long as you wish, my lady.”

Over the next few days, Jessica coaxed the whole story from her mistress, though not before swearing on her grandmother’s grave never to repeat it to another soul. Rhiannon’s adventures were beyond anyone’s imagination. Even if Jessica didn’t completely comprehend it, she learned that the dragon had been a perfect gentleman. They’d shared a love of music, one he encouraged by tutoring her in the piano she had long given up. He’d been more than kind, sharing his home and hearth with her. Anything that he called his own he freely gave to her.

He’d kissed her, Rhiannon said, but not with the same fear or disgust that accompanied tidings of Brodrick’s frequent advances. Rather, fondness effervesced from each story she related. She even admitted, quietly and late in the night with no risk of others overhearing, to his making love to her.

Jessica gasped at this news. “How?!” For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine it. Dragons were impossibly huge.

The spell of far-off memories snapped, and Rhiannon’s placid face grew red with embarrassment. She dithered, unsure what to say, then settled on, “The usual way, I suppose.”

“The usual way?!” Jessica couldn’t believe her ears. “But dragons are gigantic! They’re bigger than the whole west wing, aren’t they?” Unlike Rhiannon, she’d never seen the castle’s draconic guests.

Rhiannon laughed, a sound as reassuring as it was foreign these days. “He wasn’t as big as all that, and he usually took a more human form.” She sighed wistfully, and for the first time in a while, the candlelight highlighted a faint smile. “He had a talent for glamours, so it was never a problem.”

Magic and music? Jessica couldn’t picture it. “He sounds too good to be true.”

“I think the same thing sometimes.” The smile fell away, and Rhiannon sighed. “I’m tired,” she announced.

Jessica nodded and stood with the candle. “Then I’ll take my leave.”

Rhiannon seized her sleeve. “No!” she pleaded. “Please stay. I don’t want to be alone.”

This common refrain was met with the same reassurance as always. “Of course. Let me get my things and I’ll join you.”

The princess needed a companion. With every day, the wedding approached, and every day her nightmares worsened. If not for Jessica, she wouldn’t have gotten any sleep at all and that worried her. When the day finally came, when Jessica could no longer remain at her friend’s side as lady-in-waiting, who would chase away the nightmares? Certainly not Brodrick. He starred in most of them, and the few he didn’t, the ones that left Rhiannon sobbing instead of terrified, he would more likely punish her for than rescue her from. After all, what man would ever entertain his wife’s sorrow at the loss of a former lover?

Her dragon, perhaps, but despite Jessica’s reassurance, even she didn’t believe he was of this world any longer.

Though both prayed the day would never come, the morning of the wedding dawned with summer sunshine and birdsong as if to spite them. Rhiannon hadn’t slept a wink, so thorough were her nightmares, and so she simply drifted through the preparations as a ghost. Jessica did her best to give her a healthy glow with blush and lip stain, but to no avail. One could paint over the pallor, but little could be done for the all-consuming grief casting a pall over her heart.

All throughout the ceremony, Rhiannon wept bitterly beneath her veil. When the priest reached their cue, when Rhiannon was meant to make her vow before their god that she would bow to her husband, the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Her knees buckled, and when she woke minutes later, although it felt like hours, she found herself resting in Brodrick’s arms still before the altar. Her stomach twisted in knots, and had she been able to eat anything that morning, she might have been sick. As it was, she just shoved against his chest until he released her.

“I heard from your lady’s maid that you haven’t eaten,” he said loudly enough for the assembly to hear. “Must have been the nerves, hmm? You’ll feel better after the feast.”

With that pronouncement for the benefit of others, Brodrick lifted her veil and forced his lips against hers. The ceremony ended there with the high priest’s blessing.

Rhiannon hadn’t forced the vile promise to bind herself forever to him, but it didn’t matter. Cheers and congratulations washed over her all the same as they left the chapel, chilling her to the bone like a splash of icy, cold water. As far as everyone was concerned, she now belonged to Brodrick and Brodrick alone.

She tried to excuse herself from the reception, but no one listened. Brodrick escorted her to the head table and sat her in her customary seat despite her pleas. He piled her plate with meat, and that was the last thought he spared for her. While she picked at the food, he toasted and greeted the well-wishers who approached with gifts and compliments. Someone dished a modest amount of sugared plums beside the heaping piles of pheasant and pork. Leave it to Jessica to sneak Rhiannon some of her favorite dessert early.

While Rhiannon willed herself to swallow the sweets that struck her tongue as dry and tasteless, a stooped old man approached the table. She would have paid him the same mechanical greetings as the rest but for one thing. Safely tucked under one arm was the wood of a well-loved violin, and in his hand, he flourished the bow.

“Congratulations to the lovely Princess Rhiannon and Sir Brodrick,” came his creaky voice. “I offer a song to the head table.”

“Music?” grunted the knight in distaste. However, seeing his bride showing interest in something for the first time in weeks, he resigned himself to the dubious honor. “Oh, very well. Get on with it.”

The old man tucked the violin under his chin and pulled the bow across the strings. With dexterity Rhiannon wouldn’t have expected from such gnarled hands, his fingers danced up and down the neck of the instrument, drawing from it the purest, sweetest sound. Around the room, the clink of cutlery and glasses ceased. Everyone—even Brodrick—fell under the melodic spell that sang from his instrument. Everyone, that was, but Rhiannon.

Only one person had this sort of effect on people. Marcy had blamed his voice, but Taliesin could charm an audience with a simple penny whistle given the opportunity. Not only that, but this song... She knew it well. They’d played it enough times together that she could close her eyes and see the score. The notes fluttered like the rapid beat of hummingbird wings, the pitch rose and fell with its path. The old man caught her staring and grinned, revealing missing teeth. For the briefest moment, she thought his watery gray irises flashed gold.

When the song ended, the bent creature ducked his head into a bow. A few seconds of stunned silence ticked by. Rhiannon stood first to clap. Following her lead, the room around them erupted into applause of their own.

“Bravo,” she said, the first real word she’d spoken all day. “Thank you. That was wonderful.” She glanced at the still-stunned Brodrick. “We ought to reward him, don’t you think?”

It took another moment for the knight to break free of his daze. His brow drew together, obviously loathing the suggestion, but as before, he indulged his bride. The song had pulled her from her moping. It would make their wedding night that much easier. “Very well. You there, what would you have? Money? Jewels?”

“I am a simple man,” the violinist rasped, “with simple needs. If I might fill my bag with something from your table, I will be content to leave with my prize.”

Even better. Brodrick would lose nothing. Their majesties had footed the bill for everything. “Help yourself. Take whatever you want with my thanks.”

The old man thanked them graciously with more bobbing as he stepped toward the table. “You are too kind. Much too kind.” He looked over the spread. “You promise it’s no trouble? My taking what I may and leaving?”

“It’s not a problem. Now hurry up. We have other guests to greet.”

“I would just hate for guards to chase me down after I accept your gracious gift, my lord.”

Brodrick rolled his eyes. Paranoid old fart. “I swear no trouble will befall you whatever you take. Now fill your bag and go.”

The old man continued his bowing and scraping as he inched ever closer to Rhiannon’s place at the table. “Thank you, my lord. You are too generous.” When he reached her place setting, he stumbled and fell.

Panic gripped Rhiannon. She hurried around the table and dropped beside the mystery musician. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes,” he assured her. “You’re far too kind.” His gnarled hand squeezed hers when she helped him to his feet. Quieter so the others couldn’t hear, he said in a voice far younger, “Thank you, Rhiannon. Allow me to apologize in advance.”

She had no chance to respond. Before anyone could react, the old man had flung his bag open and brought it down over her head. Nothing larger than the man’s fiddle ought to have fit inside, and yet the fabric easily closed over her head, her shoulders, her whole body. The bag swallowed her, and when Taliesin threw it over his shoulder and cast off his glamour, she didn’t feel it at all.

Taliesin inclined his head. “I will take my bride and leave,” he said, beaming. His wings spread to their full span. Before Brodrick or the guards could restrain the winged man, he took to the air and hovered near the great glass ceiling. “I am the Warlock Bard Taliesin,” he announced, “son of the Dragon Witch Gertrude and the dragon Spinel. Remember your promise well and be sure to keep it this time.”

“Seize him!” roared the king. “Someone shoot him down!”

Brodrick snatched up his knife and threw it with all his might. The projectile sped toward the thief, but at the last second, without Taliesin’s prompting, its path suddenly curved. The blade picked up speed and smashed through the stained-glass rose above them. Not a single shard of the pink crystal touched Taliesin though it rained around him.

“Guards!” shouted the king. It was all he could do when faced with the winged bard flying through the hole and away. “Guards!”

Someone tapped his shoulder. “Perhaps you should rethink your order, Your Majesty?”

King Byron spun to face none other than the witch he’d met the fateful night of Rhiannon’s birth. Gertrude grinned at him. “I believe there’s a saying about breaking promises made to witches?” she said. “Something, something, don’t break them or they’ll blow you away? Your knight there promised anything he could fit in his bag, and well, what do you know? Rhiannon fit rather nicely.”

Brodrick rounded on Gertrude. His sword slid from its sheath. “I promised no such thing!” he spluttered.

“I heard you quite clearly,” Gertrude said cheekily. She dropped onto the stick of her broom and drifted well out of reach. “You promised him no trouble if he filled his bag from the head table, and you can bet that this time I’m not going to forget to alert the council. Do try to keep your end of the bargain. Because if you don’t...” The air hummed with unformed magic that made everyone’s skin prickle. Just as quickly, it was gone. So, too, was Lady Gertrude, zipping through the broken skylight after her son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law, vanishing without a trace.

Epilogue

Only when his flight wobbled did Taliesin finally land miles from the castle. As far as he knew, no one had followed, save maybe his mother. But she’d wisely kept her distance and out of sight as he opened his bag.

“Are you okay?” he asked breathlessly. A hand appeared from the inside, and Taliesin took it to help pull Rhiannon free.

Relieved and laughing, Rhiannon flung her arms around Taliesin and held him in a tight embrace, only to loosen it moments later when he hissed in pain. She drew back, hands on his shoulders, and looked him up and down. She thought she would never see him again, never touch him or hear his voice...

Tears welled in her eyes. “I thought you were dead!” she exclaimed, her voice somewhere between laughter and sobs.

Taliesin huffed out a chuckle. His roguish smile turned soft as his eyes met hers. He cradled her face and wiped away the tears threatening to spill over with gentle swipes of his thumbs. “Dragons are notoriously hard to kill...and I left a ceremony half-assed. Mother chased me down to give me a piece of her mind and ended up saving me instead.” He pushed himself to his feet and again offered Rhiannon his hand. “Hopefully we never have to do that again. I never want to owe her another favor as long as I live.”

“Another favor? What does she want?”

“A proper knot-tying as soon as we get back. And she wants to officiate it. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

Rhiannon gazed up at her dragon, her savior, her Taliesin. And as she watched the gold dancing in his eyes, she leaned toward him, helplessly craving his touch. Taliesin wrapped himself around her, their embrace warm and right, so perfect that nothing, not Brodrick nor anything else, could come between them ever again.

Whatever happened, Rhiannon would be ready for it, so long as she had Taliesin by her side.