The throne of Brandusa had passed to them after his parents died when he was ten, as he had been far too young to rule. But he remained crown prince and would become king upon their deaths. Their own children could only inherit the crown if Lucas renounced it or died without having children himself.
Lucas glanced into the crowd. Sure enough, his cousins’ faces displayed thin veils of welcome over their actual feelings of dislike and resentment.
He sighed. If it wasn’t for honor, he’d have been thrilled to hand over his position to them and let them all duel each other for the crown when the time came.
Queen Livia gave him a slightly wistful but genuine smile. “How lovely to see you again, Lucas.”
King Andrei shook his hand hard. “Yes, indeed. Welcome home!”
The king and queen had aged more than Lucas had expected. They were only middle-aged, but their faces were lined and silver strands glittered in their black hair. Even in the partly-ceremonial position that royalty now held in Brandusa, ruling a country was obviously not easy. And though they were quite fond of each other, they were not mates, but had participated in an arranged marriage meant to strengthen ties between their countries. For the first time, Lucas wondered if either of them had ever met their mate after they were married and it was too late.
After a long exchange of greetings and catching-up, Queen Livia said, “You must be weary, Lucas. I have arranged for you and Princess Raluca to have a quiet dinner for two. Then you must get some rest. Your engagement ball is tomorrow night.”
“What?” Lucas exclaimed. He felt like the ground had been yanked out from under his feet. Again. “I thought those things took months to prepare!”
“They do,” Queen Livia replied calmly. “We have been preparing it for months. All we need from you is your attendance.”
Lucas couldn’t help turning to his great-uncle, feeling unreasonably betrayed. “You could have told me.”
“It was my honor to escort you back to the palace, your highness,” Grand Duke Vaclav said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. Then he bowed and departed.
King Andrei cleared his throat. “Lucas, Princess Raluca’s uncle, Duke Constantine, has graced us with his presence.”
Lucas, who had been pretending not to see him, gave the duke a formal bow. “How kind of you to join us.”
Duke Constantine smirked. “Oh, the pleasure was all mine.”
Lucas supposed it was unfair to dislike the duke, given that they barely knew each other. But Duke Constantine stood to profit immensely by the trade treaty that would be signed when the marriage occurred. Lucas had always suspected that he favored the marriage because it benefited himself, not his country. Now, seeing how the duke openly gloated, Lucas was certain of it.
Gritting his teeth, Lucas turned away from the duke to greet the servants. It was a small slight, but he couldn’t resist it.
Lucas’s old nanny, Vasilica, inspected him from head to toe, clucking in disapproval. “Such strange clothes you’re wearing! Your highness, you must be measured by the tailors before you sleep tonight. The attire prepared for the ball was made from your last measurements. It will not do.”
His cousin Adelina shot him a look of equal disapproval, but expressed it with a dainty sniff. “Indeed. You are much larger now, Lucas. I had heard that Americans are all enormous from stuffing themselves with burgers and fries—” She spoke the words as if she’d said slugs and roaches. “—but I expected you to have more self-control.”
It was true that Lucas had gained weight since he was eighteen, but it was muscle, not fat. Annoyed, he shot back, “Your own self-control is formidable, Adelina. I am impressed at your efforts to reduce yourself to a skeleton.”
“Children!” Vasilica scolded, as if they were both ten. “Come along, Lucas. The princess is waiting.”
Lucas followed her into the palace, glad to escape his catty cousin and the nosy crowd of courtiers. He felt dazed. How could the ball be tomorrow? He’d thought he’d have months to prepare himself. Instead, he’d have a night and a day.
His footsteps echoed on the marble floors. Everyone who saw him stopped to bow and greet him, so his progress was slow. Seeing more people brought home to him how poorly he fit in. He still wore the tailored suit he’d had on at Protection, Inc. It was perfectly cut and expensive, but formal dress in Brandusa consisted of colorful tunics and breeches. He stood out like a crow in a flock of parrots.
And he couldn’t even change for dinner, because Vasilica was right— his old clothes wouldn’t fit him now. Like many dragons, he had been slow to reach his full adult growth. He was six inches taller and forty pounds heavier than when he’d been eighteen.
Vasilica stopped before the most lavish guest chamber in the palace. Lucas knew it well. Princess Raluca had stayed in it the last time they had met, when they had both been eighteen.
His old nurse winked at him, making her many wrinkles deepen. “Go on, your highness!”
She bustled away, leaving Lucas alone in front of the door. It was hundreds of years old, carved with flying dragons. Five years ago, Raluca had closed it in his face after telling him that she would pray nightly that he found his mate, for she could never love him.
You are a prince and a dragon, he reminded himself. Do not add to the cowardice you have already committed this day.
He knocked on the door. “Hello? It’s Lucas.”
Raluca opened it. “Come in.”
He walked into the chamber. The door closed behind him with a final-sounding click.