Page 27 of Dreams and Dragon Wings (Clean Fairytales for Adults #2)

Aurelia

Twelve Years Ago

T onight, I would turn eighteen.

Tonight, Bene would come.

And I had no way of knowing yet if he would be coming to steal me away to Drakara or to say goodbye.

I fretted with the skirt of my gown, twisting the silk until it wrinkled beyond repair. When Mama caught my eye, my hands stilled immediately. I knew what she would say if she could: “You are soon to be a lady, Aurelia, and ladies do not fidget.”

But how could I possibly sit still?

Lady Danbury cleared her throat. “I imagine you must be so terribly eager for next week, Miss Weaver.”

My attention fixed back upon the two women sitting across from Mama and me—none other than Miss Selina Danbury and her equally odious mother.

I despised these stuffy afternoon teas just as much as Mama adored them, but they had become a weekly tradition I could not escape ever since Lord Harcourt’s proposal.

Ever since I became somebody of moderate importance.

“Next week?” I asked.

Selina tittered into her teacup. “Yes… your wedding , Miss Weaver?”

My stomach tightened at the reminder that I was soon to be a married woman, assuming Bene didn’t spirit me away.

Of course, Mama would be so terribly cross with me if Bene did spirit me away. She would never forgive me. Papa’s business in Spindleton would be ruined. Our family’s name would be forever stained.

But perhaps I could convince them to come to Drakara with me.

In my silence, Selina’s tone turned sharp—a sugar-coated blade she sought to wield against me. “Or have you forgotten poor Lord Harcourt already?”

“Selina,” Lady Danbury warned, her smile turning brittle.

I conjured up a smile of my own and sweetly asked, “How could I possibly forget the most eligible bachelor in all of Spindleton, Miss Danbury? Well…” I trailed off, lowering my eyelashes toward my teacup. “I suppose he is a bachelor no longer.”

Some dark part of me delighted in making Selina frown like that—like she wished I would drop dead from her stare alone— even though I didn’t care at all for Thomas Harcourt. He was arrogant and cold.

If Bene were here, he would have said my Shade was tempting me to be cruel.

Diplomatically, Mama changed the subject. “Lady Danbury, these tarts are divine. I daresay your cook is the best in all of Briarhold.”

While the conversation shifted to talk of pastries, I let my gaze wander toward the window and the glimpse of the Danburys’ garden beyond.

It was a dull, tamed sort of garden composed of rigid trellises and carefully pruned shrubbery.

Just like every other garden owned by members of Spindleton high society.

The very sort of garden I would be forced to own once I became Lady Harcourt.

While I stared out the window, the sky abruptly darkened, shifting from sunshine to gloomy clouds in the span of a single heartbeat. I blinked, not entirely believing my eyes.

Not until a sudden rumble of thunder boomed so loud it shook the windowpanes.

Selina screamed.

Lady Danbury and Mama both laughed nervously.

“Goodness,” the former remarked over the rain now hammering against the roof. “These summer storms are so terribly unpredictable.”

But I didn’t laugh. Nor did I scream.

I simply stared in horror at the silver-haired young man standing in the middle of the garden, in the midst of the downpour, watching me through the window.

My breath hitched in my throat as my eyes locked with his.

Bene .

I flashed a glance toward the clock ticking away on the mantel. It was only three in the afternoon. What was he doing here? He never came early. And he most certainly never followed me into the city where he could be spotted.

Where we could be spotted.

A flash of lightning split the heavens. When it faded, Bene was gone—as if he had been nothing but a figment of my imagination all along. But I was sure I had seen him.

I jolted to my feet. Something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

Mama raised her eyebrows. “Aurelia? What is the matter?”

“I just need some air,” I blurted out, not thinking.

Selina looked aghast. “Surely not in this weather?”

“No,” I agreed at once even as I crossed the sitting room to the window to twitch the curtains shut. “Forgive me,” I implored, whirling back to face the three wide-eyed women staring at me. “This storm just has me… unsettled.”

For once, Lady Danbury’s features softened into something almost matronly. “Of course, my dear. Perhaps we should retire to a room without windows?”

“No!” I hastily exclaimed. Too hastily. “I would not wish to inconvenience you, Lady Danbury. Perhaps I might just… just walk the corridors for a moment until I am settled once more?”

Mama narrowed her eyes at me.

But Lady Danbury slowly inclined her head. “Of course. Do let me know if I should ring for Mary. She does make a very soothing chamomile tea.”

I nodded and murmured my thanks, already halfway out the door.

This was madness, all of it.

Bene being here in the middle of the day.

Me racing out into the storm to see him.

How would I possibly explain my soaked state afterward?

I didn’t worry about that now. I couldn’t worry about that now.

On hurried steps, I flitted down the corridor and made for the double doors leading out onto the veranda and the garden beyond.

But the moment I stepped outside, I forgot how to breathe.

Not because of the bitterly cold-for-the-season rain pelting my back.

Nor the strength of the wind whistling past.

But because of him . Bene.

There he stood right on the veranda steps, his head bowed.

Clearly waiting for me.

Without even bothering to lift his eyes to mine, he snatched my hand and bodily tugged me down the stairs, out into the garden, and behind a row of hedges.

“Bene,” I gasped, stumbling, my shoes already filling with water. “What are you doing?”

He answered me with a sob—a choked, wounded sound I never imagined I would ever hear from my dragon prince. It was then I realized he was crying. His tears mingled with the raindrops streaming down his face, but his eyes told me all I needed to know when he finally lifted his head.

I lost myself within the depths of his sorrow. I drowned right along with him, the threat of tears stinging my own eyes. Without a word, I stepped toward him and lifted my hands, cupping his ashen cheeks.

I didn’t know what was wrong; I didn’t know what had happened, but I did know this:

He had come to say goodbye.

Shivering like a man wracked by a fever, he wrapped his strong arms around my waist and scandalously tugged me close. Close enough to make my pulse race. Close enough to twist the knife of sorrow already piercing my heart that much more. Bene never held me. He so rarely touched me.

Only now, when our time together was at an end, did he deign to do so.

Come with me. Be with me. Marry me. I love you. I’ve always loved you.

Those were the things I so desperately wanted him to say.

Instead, he hoarsely whispered into the scant space between us, “I can’t stay long. But I had to come. I had to see you again. One last time.”

I shook my head, struggling to breathe. “No.” I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to say goodbye.

Not like this. Not hiding in Selina Danbury’s garden in the rain. Not narrowly avoiding scandal with every moment that passed. “No. Bene, please.” My hold on his face tightened when I felt him try to pull away. “Bene, don’t .”

Shamefully, pitifully, I begged, “Don’t leave me here.”

His shoulders hunched against the rain. His face lowered. His body trembled against mine. “I have to, Aurelia. I have to. He’s dead.”

My heart seized. Who was dead?

But Bene kept speaking, babbling like a madman. “He’s dead. I killed him. The Door is closing. It’s closing now. I have to return. Mother needs me. She’ll drown the world if she loses me, too. He’s dead. He’s dead. My father’s… dead .”

That final word was but a sob in Bene’s throat. I could almost hear his heart breaking.

And mine broke right along with it.

“Bene—” I started to say around the rising lump in my throat, desperate to comfort him.

But he shook his head again and pried himself from my grip, retreating from me through the wind and rain. “ Don’t . Don’t. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I killed him. I killed him.”

He wasn’t making sense. I knew he’d never kill his father.

The Benevolence I knew could never kill anyone, least of all his father.

“Shh, Bene,” I tried again, pursuing him further through the soaked garden as he fled from me. The rain was beginning to let up. The storm was passing.

Which made it entirely too easy to see the pain blazing deep within his eyes when he spun around to face me again and stepped in close to do the unthinkable.

He pressed his lips against my brow.

For a moment, my heart stopped beating.

“You must marry Lord Harcourt,” he whispered against my damp skin, his voice cracking. “Marry him. Be safe. Be happy.”

How can I be happy with anyone but you? I wanted to ask, but didn’t dare.

Let me come with you even though I am merely your friend , I wanted to plead, but I couldn’t.

“Bene—” It was all I had time to say as he pulled from me one last time and fled, soon disappearing out of sight. “ Bene! ” I screamed, those two syllables shattering on my tongue. Broken, just like my heart.

My hopes.

My dreams.

And as I turned to return to the Danburys’ veranda and found myself staring at Selina’s smug, rain-drenched face, I knew something else of mine would soon be broken beyond repair, too.

My reputation.