The Dragon’s Daughter and the Winter Mage by Jeffe Kennedy

~ 1 ~

Seven Years Later

Battling monsters and worrying about magic rifts in the sky should be more worrisome than trying to keep the peace between two of her closest friends, Gen reflected. And yet, not so much.

“I swear to the three goddesses, Rhyian,” Lena hissed, lips pressed white with anger, “if you don’t quit following me, I’ll—”

“It’s not your castle, sweetheart,” Rhy drawled, shoving his hands in his pockets and giving her an insolent smile that had Gen bracing herself for Lena’s explosion. “You can’t tell me where to go.”

“Oh, I’ll tell you where to go.” Lena’s tone dropped ominously, her weather magic intensifying in the air, like pressure plummeting before the onset of a storm.

“I’m interested in the library,” he insisted, goading her. “I like books.”

“Rhy, Lena.” Gen tried to be soothing. “Let’s not—”

“I doubt there’s anyone lurking among the books hoping to be seduced by a faithless idiot,” Lena snarled, completely ignoring Gen. “But I suppose hope springs eternal, doesn’t it? Stay away from me, Rhyian.”

“I did,” he snarled back, “for seven years. It didn’t take.”

“Try another seven,” she spat. “Or how about forever. Does forever work for you?”

“Princess Salena Nakoa KauPo,” Prince Wilhelm called. “Is there a problem?”

“If there is, it’s not mine,” she declared, and pointedly turned her back, stalking away. Gen let out a breath of relief that they’d avoided a worse argument. She’d come along on the post-breakfast tour of Castle Marcellum’s library entirely to play referee between Rhy and Lena. Seven years of distance hadn’t done much to resolve the heartbreak and bitter feelings between the once-lovers. Being thrown together again after all that time had unraveled the barely marginal détente they’d recently established. Lena would never get past Rhy’s callous betrayal of her trust—not that Gen blamed her—and Rhy seemed to be unable to get that through his head, more determined to win her back than ever.

“She doesn’t mean it,” Rhy said, gazing after Lena, proving the point.

“It’s lovely, Prince Wilhelm,” Lena’s voice drifted back to where Gen and Rhy still stood, barely inside the doors.

“I dare say, it’s as well stocked as any you’ve seen, save the library in Nahanau, naturally,” Wilhelm replied.

“Ah, but we of Nahanau know our library is a wonder of the world, one established by our wise ancestors. We can’t take credit for it, nor do we expect any other library to compete.”

“You are too generous, Your Highness.”

“Please, call me Lena.”

“Then you must call me Wim.”

“You must call me Wim,” Rhy mimicked in a foppish whine that sounded nothing like the prince, offering Gen his arm with an absurdly grand gesture. “I’ll call him dinner if he keeps touching Lena like that.”

“Down boy,” Gen muttered back, taking his arm in case he lunged for their host. “Wilhelm is just looking to court a princess, since he doesn’t run into many this far north. And you promised Jak you wouldn’t kill the prince.”

“No, I did not,” Rhy corrected, patting Gen’s hand where it rested on his black-velvet-clad forearm. “Besides, Jak would help me hide the body.” He winked at her, so charming when he wasn’t being an ass. “So would you.”

Of course she would, but she had no intention of encouraging him. “If you kill the prince, we’ll get kicked out of Castle Marcellum,” she pointed out reasonably, “and I’m really happy to be warm again. I can’t face the winter weather just yet, Rhy. Not so soon. I know we have to continue our mission, but give me another day to thaw. Please.”

He followed her gaze to the wintry landscape outside the frosted windows. Though the day had dawned sunny, heavy clouds were gathering, wind blowing glittering snow up from drifts on the hills. “Good point,” he conceded, then grinned at her, his deep-blue eyes breathtaking, black waves tumbling around his gorgeous face. “You’re so practical, Gen. Why didn’t I fall in love with you instead?”

Gen sucked in a breath at the sting of his casual teasing. Why indeed? Because she might as well be invisible with beautiful, sensual Lena in the room. Not to mention gorgeous Zeph, who’d naturally succeeded in her quest to make Astar fall in love with her. She was even off playing his consort, in meetings with the king and queen of Erie, as impossible as that change seemed for the flighty Zeph. And now Jak had finally gotten through to Stella, the pair of them probably off in bed together at that very moment.

And Gen was still alone, practically still a virgin, save for one embarrassingly horrible experience that didn’t really count, except that she couldn’t seem to rid herself of the galling memory and vague sense of illness surrounding it. Quit dwelling, she ordered herself.

“What did you make of Nilly actually giggling at breakfast like that?” Rhy asked, his mind clearly on Jak and Stella’s newfound liaison, too, though his gaze lingered blackly on Wilhelm and Lena where they examined some tome he’d extracted from a shelf for her.

“That was a love giggle,” Gen replied wistfully.

“Is that a real thing?” Rhy demanded with a wicked glint in his eyes. “I think you made that up.”

Gen bit back pointing out that Lena used to giggle just like that with him, back when they were in love. She would never, however, deliberately hurt him like that. Rhy could be an ass, and he brooded enough to make her want to kick him, but he was also a friend. And ever since he’d been trapped in wolf form in an alter-realm without food or water, unable to shift, he’d been moodier than ever. Lena’s light laugh wafted over to them.

“That,” Rhy snarled. “Was that a love giggle?”

“No,” Gen replied in all seriousness. “That was a polite pretending-to-find-your-host-amusing chuckle.”

Rhy cocked his head, his raven First Form’s canniness in the gesture, his attention entirely on her for once. It was a heady feeling. Or it would be, if Gen thought she had the remotest chance of catching Rhy’s interest. “How do you know?” he asked.

How do younot know? she wanted to ask in return. Rhy had known Lena all his life, knew her just as well as Gen did, better in some ways, and was head over heels in love with the woman. Shouldn’t he understand Lena better than anyone? Though, maybe that was partly why their love hadn’t survived. That and Rhy fucking everything up so horribly.

“I listen,” she replied with some irritation, yanking her arm from his. “I pay attention to my friends.”

“Hey, I pay attention to my friends, too,” Rhy replied defensively. He leaned in, waggling his eyebrows. “I gave up the room to Jak so he could seduce our Nilly, didn’t I? And when she was ready to bolt and screw it all up, I talked her into giving him a chance.”

Arrested, Gen stared at Rhy. “Wait. You did?”

“See?” He drew himself up and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I can be a friend.”

“To Jak,” she specified, “so he could get laid.”

“That’s not fair,” Rhy protested, but he was grinning. “I’m fully invested in our Nilly getting laid, too.”

Despite herself, Gen laughed.

“I know that laugh,” Rhy declared. “That’s a you’re-so-clever-and-entertaining, Rhy giggle.”

“You are clever and entertaining,” Gen agreed, adding ruefully, “even if you are an ass.”

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who saved Jak and Stella’s tender new love affair from being nipped in the bud?”

“So, what did you say to Nilly?” Gen asked, terribly curious. She hadn’t known any of this. Where had she been? At the ball being a wallflower, probably.

Rhy shrugged, expression going moody as he gazed past Gen to Lena deep in conversation with the flirtatious prince. “I advised her to learn from my great cautionary tale. That giving in to fear can ruin what might be the only opportunity you have for happiness.”

“Oh, Rhy,” Gen murmured, her heart twisting for him. She regretted the uncharitable thought she’d nursed in being jealous of Rhy and Lena’s giddy love affair back in the day. They’d been so deliriously happy together, and they were both so miserable apart. She should’ve appreciated it more when they were all together, one big, entangled group of friends. The split between Rhy and Lena had impacted all of them. As much as she’d been privately envious of the others pairing off, she missed even more what they’d all had back in the day. Going on this quest together had begun to rebuild some of that old camaraderie, but it would never be the same as it was back then. Back when they’d all been considerably more innocent. When they hadn’t been worried about the world coming to a grisly end. “You’ll have other chances,” she told Rhy. “You’ll find someone else.”

His gaze returned to her face, neutral and unreadable now. “You mistake me, my old friend. I don’t want anyone else. All I want is to get back what I had and carelessly destroyed. I know I’m the last one to figure this out, but I’m finally facing the truth. She’s never going to forgive me.”

Gen wanted to tell him he was wrong, but she couldn’t. She’d listened to Lena’s tearful confessions and angry diatribes enough to know that Lena would never, ever give Rhy another opportunity to stomp all over her heart. Rhy read the truth in her eyes, grimacing for it. “You’re a good person, Gen,” he said. “A good friend. At least you never lie to me.”

“So, what can I show you, Prince Rhyian?” Wilhelm asked jovially, inserting himself into the conversation with the confidence of royalty. “Or you, Lady Gendra?” He tipped his head to indicate Lena, who sat at a table, head bent over an obviously ancient tome. “Princess Salena Nakoa KauPo is engrossed, as you can see.”

“Thank you, Your Highness, but I’m not a lady,” Gen replied. “I’m not nobility of any kind. Your Highness may call me Gen.”

“Then call me Wim,” he replied with an easy smile. Prince Wilhelm was young and solidly mossback, and not handsome exactly, but striking with his mother’s ivory hair and lake-blue eyes. He was also pleasant company, when he wasn’t focused on flirting with Lena. He didn’t seem to notice the predatory glint in Rhy’s eyes. “You also, Prince Rhyian.”

“Not really a prince,” Rhy reminded him with a flash of teeth. “Call me Rhy.”

“I still don’t quite understand how the Tala handle the line of succession,” Wim said, his curious tone inviting Rhy to explain.

“No one does,” Rhy mused grimly. “Largely because it makes no rational sense. What you get for letting animals rule themselves.”

Gen narrowed her eyes at him in warning, but Rhy had shifted his focus fully to needling the young prince of Erie.

Wim considered Rhy, absorbing his words. “You refer, I’m sure, to the Tala being shapeshifters, but I seriously doubt that anyone—especially you, yourselves—would call the Tala animals.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Rhy shot back, a growl in his voice.

Stepping forward ever so slightly, not quite putting herself between the two men, but close enough that she could if Rhy lost his temper, Gen smiled sweetly at Wim. “We don’t think of ourselves as animals, it’s true, but neither do we think of ourselves as entirely human.” She threw a pointed look at Rhy. “In fact, some of us are less human than others, our First Forms dominating our natures, sometimes to the detriment of polite society.”

Rhy simply bared his teeth at her, unbothered.

“I confess I’m wildly curious,” Wim replied. “What is a First Form?”

“The form we shift into instinctively for the first time, often as infants,” Gen explained.

Her Majesty High Queen Ursula had wanted them to keep their shapeshifting low profile on this journey, especially as they traveled to the less sophisticated, more distant realms of the Thirteen Kingdoms. That plan, however, had pretty much come apart at the Midway Inn when the alter-realm entity that they’d taken to simply calling “the intelligence,” for lack of a better name, kidnapped some of the locals, forcing their group to resort to their most vicious—and startling—forms in order to effect a rescue. The sight of Zeph as a gryphon—or gríobhth, in the Tala language—had thoroughly shredded their cover as a group of frivolous young nobles touring the countryside. Of course, Astar taking dragon form back at Lake Sullivan to save Zeph’s life had done that as well, just with far fewer witnesses.

It stuck in Gen’s craw that Astar had somehow fallen into dragon form with none of the diligent practice and study Gen had put in over the years. It’s one thing to know it and another to experience the agony of that choice, her mother had said long ago. It didn’t take much guessing to figure out what Astar had been willing to sacrifice in that moment, with Zeph plummeting to her death. Gen allowed herself a dreamy, totally internal sigh for that truly romantic gesture.

“So, is it rude to inquire what your First Form is?” Wim asked her, clearly fascinated. Men rarely noticed Gen, but Wim focused on her with those pretty blue eyes, studying her with great interest. “You are a shapeshifter, yes?”

“Gen is the most talented shapeshifter of our generation,” Rhy put in proudly, resting a hand on her shoulder. “As her mother is of hers.”

“Zeph is just as talented,” Gen temporized, blushing a little.

“You have more forms,” Rhy insisted. “Plus your other skills are better.”

“Only because I practice more.”

“This is amazing,” Wim commented, his eyes shining with admiration. “It never occurred to me that shapeshifting requires practice. I guess I thought you just did it like, poof, naturally.”

“If only,” Rhy drawled.

“Our First Form works that way for most shapeshifters,” Gen cut in smoothly. “And for many, it’s their only form. Some acquire a few more.”

“And then grind to a halt at that point, confined to those pitiful few,” Rhy added.

Gen turned on him. “Do you really want to get in a conversation, here and now, about how your poor attitude and work ethic get in the way of you acquiring more forms?”

Rhy gave her an unamused smile. “Seems we just did. I think I’ll see what Lena is reading so intently.”

“Don’t go and—”

“I can be civil,” he snapped, sounding anything but.

“I thought you were facing up to things,” she said quietly, meaningfully.

That gave him pause, and he raked a hand through the tousled black waves of his hair. “Right.”

“Jak and Stella were going to practice with her magic,” she reminded him. “Maybe you should go work with them. They said a shapeshifter would be helpful.”

Rhy thrust his hands in his pockets, brooding gaze going to the oblivious Lena, then dropped his chin in a reluctant nod. “I’ll do that.” Without another word, he prowled out of the room.

“It seems Prince Rhyian—I mean, that Rhy doesn’t like discussing this topic?” Wim ventured. “I apologize if I was too invasive.”

Gen sighed. “Not at all, Wim,” she replied, manufacturing a warm smile. “Rhy is still recovering from some of our more disturbing adventures. Please forgive us for being on edge.”

Wim returned the smile, the genuine warmth in it lighting up his face. “You don’t seem to be on edge at all. I find you most charming and delightful.”

No one could blame her for preening a little at that, even though she couldn’t claim to be traumatized at all, since she hadn’t journeyed to an alter-realm. Of their group, only she hadn’t gone to one of those uncanny and dangerous places—willingly or unwillingly—which made her feel vaguely ashamed. It didn’t mean she was any less brave than the others… did it?

“So, you have many forms you’ve practiced?” Wim asked. “Is that what makes you the most talented shapeshifter of your generation?”

She felt herself blushing harder, kind of wishing Rhy hadn’t said that. “Talent is an inherent thing. My mother and Zeph’s father—they’re twins—are very talented shapeshifters, able to take many forms. We both inherited that ability.”

“But you work at it more.”

“I’m naturally more inclined to study than Zeph,” she allowed. More inclined to being alone while Zeph was forever surrounded by admirers.

Wim smiled sympathetically. “I can see how the crown prince’s fiancée is a bit… flighty. Not serious and grounded, like you are. I bet your First Form is something substantial, like a horse.”

“Zeph is committed to learning how to be the best high queen she can be,” Gen replied, feeling she should defend Zeph, who really was trying. “And our First Forms aren’t necessarily discernible from our human personalities. Mine is a hummingbird.”

Wim’s face went momentarily slack with astonishment, then lit with utter delight. “You’re right—I would never have guessed. But now that I know, I can see it in you. Your eyes are so lovely, like jewels. I bet you’re a beautiful hummingbird. We only have them here in the summer months, but I love them.”

“I do too,” she agreed with a like smile. “It’s also my mother’s First Form.”

“So it runs in families?”

“Not necessarily. In fact, it’s unusual that I have the same First Form that she does.”

“And how many other forms can you take?”

“I haven’t counted,” she replied honestly. Zynda was famous for answering that question with a vague “several,” which was outrageously misleading. Gen didn’t have it in her to be that sneaky, which was probably why she’d never be as interesting as her wild and dramatic mother.

“So many as that, then.” Wim grinned. “What a remarkable thing it must be to—”

A raven burst into the library at top speed, becoming Rhy so fast that he took a few steps from the momentum. He looked wildly at Lena, who’d knocked her chair over when she leapt to her feet in shock, then to Gen: “They’re gone. Jak and Stella—they’ve been abducted.”