“What do you mean, farewell?” Duke Constantine demanded. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m free now.” Her face lit up with an amazed smile, as if she was marveling at her own reply. “I could go anywhere at all.”
She whirled around and ran for the balcony, her silver hair streaming behind her. Journey started forward with a gasp, but Lucas caught her arm.
“She’s a dragon,” he reminded her. “She doesn’t fall. She flies.”
Raluca threw herself over the railing. The woman dropped out of sight. A moment later, a silver dragon soared up. The sun gleamed on her wings as she flew upward and away, farther and farther into the blue until she became a glittering point like a daylight star. And then she was gone.
“She can’t do that!” Duke Constantine shouted belatedly.
Journey turned on him. “She just did, asshole. And good for her!”
Lucas wanted to laugh, but he’d suddenly gotten very dizzy. Black spots floated across his field of vision. He bit down hard on the inside of his mouth, hoping a small shock of pain would help him focus.
The spots faded, but the dizziness remained. The king and queen were conversing with each other, their voices too low for Lucas to catch the words, but their whispers sounded unnaturally shrill in his ears.
King Andrei snapped his fingers. “Guards! Take Duke Constantine to the dungeons.”
The guards hauled the duke away. He protested all the way, until the heavy doors closed behind him and cut off his voice.
; Lucas spoke hastily, while he still had a chance. Despite the burning pain in his throat, his voice rang out loud and clear. “King Andrei, Queen Livia, I too renounce my title. I renounce my claim to the throne in favor of whichever of your children you choose to name as your heir. From now on, my life and my love are my own.”
“You can’t do that!” Grand Duke Vaclav shouted.
He sounded so exactly like Duke Constantine that Lucas did laugh. That was his downfall. The room began to spin around him, going faster and faster until he lost his footing.
“Look to the prince!” a voice called out.
The next thing he knew, someone was trying to pour liquid into his mouth. Lucas lashed out, but a hard grip caught his hand. He struggled, jerking his head to the side and clenching his jaws.
Soft hands stroked his hair. “Lucas, it’s all right. It’s medicine— it won’t hurt you.”
His vision cleared. He was lying on the floor of the throne room with his head in Journey’s lap. One of the royal doctors was attending to him. The guards and courtiers were gone, but the royal family sat in a semi-circle around him. Grand Duke Vaclav had an iron grip on his wrist.
Lucas wrenched his arm free. “Don’t touch me.”
“I was only trying to help,” his great-uncle said stiffly.
“I don’t want your help.” Lucas took a deep breath, then another, willing himself to calm. His mind cleared, allowing him to focus on the doctor. “I will take the medicine now.”
The doctor shot Lucas a nervous glance. Lucas couldn’t blame him. If Grand Duke Vaclav hadn’t stopped him, Lucas probably would have punched the doctor in the face.
“Here, give it to me.” Journey took the cup from the doctor’s hands, lifted Lucas’s head, and held it to his lips.
He swallowed the medicine. The familiar tang reassured him. It was heartsease, but a far larger dose than he’d ever taken before.
“We will speak again when you are well,” said Grand Duke Vaclav. There was an ominous note in his voice.
“We will not,” replied Lucas.
With a flash of anger, his great-uncle said, “You have no idea what I wish to say to you!”
“Even now, you are trying to bully me while I’m lying here ill,” Lucas pointed out. “You have had my entire life to speak to me. I know what sort of words you have to say, and I do not wish to hear them. I am not giving you an order as your prince. I am telling you, man-to-man, to go away.”
His great-uncle stared at him. Lucas met his cold gaze without flinching. Then Grand Duke Vaclav stood up and walked away without another word. The heavy doors of the throne room closed behind him with a very final-sounding thud.