“Yes,” Journey replied. “I trust you.”
“This is not how I wanted to tell you,” he muttered. Then, with a resigned shrug, he said, “You know those local legends about the royal family turning into dragons?”
“Yes.”
“They’re true.” Lucas spoke as if he didn’t expect to be believed.
Journey didn’t doubt him for an instant. His voice held the unmistakable ring of truth. But more than that, it didn’t seem impossible that the golden-haired prince who had defended her against assassins was every bit as astonishing as he seemed. Of course he could turn into a dragon. Of course magic was real. She’d always wanted to believe that there was more to the world than simple known facts. On some level, she had always believed.
“I knew it!” Journey exclaimed.
Lucas’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You believe me?”
The entire town of Lummox, North Dakota would think she was a gullible idiot if they could hear her now. Journey didn’t care. “One hundred percent.”
His tension and weariness eased, and his sensual lips parted in a faint smile. Then he said the last thing she expected. “I have to wash my face.”
He knelt at the edge of the river and splashed water over his face, scrubbing hard. She was baffled until she remembered how one of the attackers had thrown some liquid in his face and he’d reacted as if it had hurt him.
When he straightened up, she anxiously peered at his face, but saw no mark on it. “What did that guy throw on you? Pepper spray?”
Lucas shook his head. “Dragonsbane. It wouldn’t do anything to you. But it stops me from shifting.”
“It looked like it hurt.”
“It does. When I was a boy, my great-uncle, Grand Duke Vaclav, would sometimes dip our practice swords in it and have us fight with our shirts off, so any hits we took would feel like real wounds.”
Journey recalled the Grand Duke with dislike. “When you say boy, how old are you talking about?”
“Since I was eleven.”
“What an asshole!”
“He didn’t do it to be sadistic. You need to learn to take a blow seriously, and you need to learn to fight while you’re in pain. His training saved my life and yours tonight.” Then Lucas gave her a wry smile, softening the angular planes of his face. “But you’re right. He’s an asshole.”
Journey tried to smile with him, but she was having a hard time thinking of anything but all that blood.
“Can I take off your shirt?” Heat rose to her face as she heard her own words. “I mean, to tear it up for bandages.”
“You may see to my wounds when we arrive. And don’t worry so much about me. Shifters heal quickly.” Lucas touched her hand. Even the slightest skin-to-skin contact with him sent a shock of pleasure through her body. “I’m going to become a dragon. Don’t be frightened— What am I saying? You stood with me unarmed against six assassins with swords.”
“I wasn’t unarmed,” Journey pointed out. “I had a big rock.”
“And you made excellent use of it,” Lucas said, his tone lightening. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“Thank you for saving mine.”
The riverbank was silent except for the sound of the rushing waters. Lucas’s amber eyes were bleached silver by the moonlight. The blood on his tunic looked black.
Journey knew then, in her gut and in her heart, that he was not a man who cheated or lied. He’d seemed to be a sweet-talking cheater at the ball, but appearances could be deceiving. Good country boys could be liars and thieves. Small-town girls named Ashley could be world travelers named Journey. Princes could be dragons.
“Are you engaged?” she asked.
“No.” His immediate reply was more convincing than any lengthy explanation. “It’s complicated, but no.”
“Are you in love with Princess Raluca?”
“No. And she’s not in love with me, either. We’re both trying to extract ourselves from an arrangement made by other people five years ago— an arrangement neither of us ever wanted.”