Page 3 of Dreams and Dragon Wings (Clean Fairytales for Adults #2)

Aurelia

Now

T he ink dries slowly on the parchment, each word a finality I’m not sure I’m ready to face.

My final letter to Bene.

A lump rises in my throat, but I desperately swallow it down. Not now , I plead with myself, blinking away the tears I promised I wouldn’t shed.

Mama is right. This must be done.

But still… after seventeen years of letters—of a friendship beyond any other I’ve ever known—I can’t believe I’m about to say goodbye.

Outside my window, our usually quiet street is alive with preparations for the king’s ball. The royal banners of King Friedemar, son of Aldemar, snap in the early summer breeze in a ripple of blue and gold, as if in mimicry of the delicate threads of magic shimmering through the heavens.

Gold for Spirit. Blue for Water.

According to Bene, the magic has always been there. But I only became aware of it on my eighteenth birthday—the day I became strange.

I can merely see the kaleidoscopic threads, though. I cannot weave with them like Bene can. If I could, perhaps I could weave my way out of my current predicament. Thirty years old and unmarried. A spinster preparing to be courted by a man old enough to be her father.

But Lord Reginald Lockhart is the only man in all of Briarhold who will have me now.

“Aurelia?” Mama calls from downstairs. “Are you ready? We must make haste.”

“I’m coming,” I call back, my voice flickering in time with my unsteady pulse. But I make no move to rise from my desk. Reluctance roots me to the chair.

It has been years since I was last out in proper Spindleton society, but I must attend His Majesty’s ball tonight. By royal decree, all unwed maidens are to present themselves so that the king can choose a wife from amongst them. So present myself, I must.

Despite the fact that I will be a most unwanted addition.

Despite the fact that I would much rather stay home and look after Papa.

Despite the fact that the king would never choose me for his bride.

Three days of feasting and merriment await me—three days of torture beneath the watchful eye of Spindleton society. I will have to endure it all with a smile, as if my heart isn’t lying broken in a fairy circle in the middle of the woods behind our old cottage.

“Aurelia!”

I tuck the letter away in my pocket, willing my fingers not to tremble. Mama is right to fret. The ball begins in an hour, and we still have one more errand to run.

My final trip to the fairy circle.

The sudden clatter of footsteps hurrying up the stairs wrenches me back to the present. My pulse quickens. I desperately survey the collection of my favorite letters from Bene strewn across my desk.

Mama is coming. She will see I didn’t let her destroy them all—a necessary step, in her opinion, to my finally saying goodbye to my oldest friend.

But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t .

Delicate parchment—fragile and well-loved—greets my fingertips as I hastily brush years’ worth of notes back into the desk drawer with the false bottom where I now hide them. All save for one.

I snatch up that final missive at the last second, just as my bedroom door swings open to reveal my mother. Even after all these years, she is still a handsome woman. Pleasantly plump with pewter-gray hair and hazel eyes that miss nothing.

She narrows those eyes at me, at the letter I now hold.

“Is that it, then?” Mama asks, bustling forward.

I slip the letter into my pocket before she has a chance to inspect it further. “It is, yes.”

My stomach twists. I hate keeping things from her. Though I now know she is not my birth mother, Mira Weaver is still my mother.

But lie I must. Mama means well. She wishes to protect me from further heartbreak. I know that. But I can’t bear the thought of parting with yet another of his letters.

Not today. Not on our birthday.

“And did you do as I advised?” she asks while moving to stand behind me. “You were very final? Men need a little cruelty to dissuade them, my love, or they may yet cling to some shred of hope.”

I stare at the mirror before me and offer a wan smile. “Yes,” I whisper. “I did as you advised.”

Though it killed me to do it.

My reflection reveals a tired-looking woman—a perfect stranger. A lady in a gown of rose silk with pure gold lace edging the neckline and sleeves. Pink diamonds dangle from her ears and throat, flashing in the dying light spilling in through my open window.

Mama insisted I have a whole new wardrobe for the king’s balls, as if the shine of new jewelry might distract from the dark stain on my reputation.

“Oh, my darling, you look exquisite,” she exclaims, blessedly changing the subject. “If a little pale.” Leaning in, she presses a kiss to my cheek. “Are you feeling unwell?”

My smile feels brittle when I carefully reply, “I am as well as can be expected.”

Mama’s expression sours immediately. “You must think I am being unfair to you.”

“No—” I try to protest, but she continues, speaking right over me.

“But I only have your best interest at heart. I have always had your best interest at heart.” She fusses with my hair, ensuring each golden strand is neatly pinned in place, as she continues on a softer note, as if afraid someone might overhear us: “We have endured this nonsense with the dragon king long enough. You are thirty years old and still unwed. Who will take care of you when we’re gone if not Lord Reginald? ”

I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek before delicately suggesting, “Can I not simply take care of myself?” When Mama’s gaze sharpens on my reflection, I hastily explain, “I could easily live off the monthly allowance Bene sends.”

I know I’ve already lost the argument when she twitches away from me, as if my words have scalded her, but I continue anyway. “Or I could obtain some work as a governess.”

“No,” Mama whispers, a finality to her tone. “I will never allow any daughter of mine to live like… like a mistress , supported by some distant king rather than a proper husband.”

She speaks as if our family has not already been living like that for years, ever since the day Bene’s father died.

Since the day I became unwanted.

I jolt to my feet, my cheeks ablaze. “You act as if I delight in the allowance Bene sends us every month, as if I haven’t told him time and time again—year after year—that his generosity isn’t necessary. That he owes us nothing .”

She stares at me, aghast. It is unlike me to lose my temper. I must remain calm at all times. I must remain in control of my emotions.

I draw in a deep breath and force myself to add, on a softer note, “And as I said, Mama, I could obtain some work as a governess.”

“No,” she says again, already making for the door, as if it has all been decided, then. As if I have no say in my future. “Our fortunes have improved too much for you to have to work for a living now. You will marry Lord Reginald, and that is that.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “Our fortunes?” I repeat, stopping her in her tracks. She shoots me a warning glance over her shoulder.

But it is a warning I do not heed.

“And tell me, Mama, on whose wealth was that fortune built?”

She closes the distance between us again, trying to shush me. “Hush now. What has gotten into you?” She glances toward the open door and hisses, “Do you want Nurse Frances to hear you? Your father to hear you?”

“Perhaps he should hear me,” I snap. “Perhaps he should finally know who truly pays for the roof over our heads. The silk on our backs.” My throat tightens over my next words, leaving me fighting to choke out, “All the doctors. The medicine. The specialists.”

Open shame writes itself over her features—the shame of a woman forced to face her own hypocrisy. I’m right.

And she knows it.

But rather than admit to it, she merely sniffs and swipes her fingers beneath her eyes, scrubbing away her tears before they ever properly materialize.

“Enough,” she whispers. “We will not speak of… my surprise inheritance any longer. I do not wish to fight with you, my love. Not tonight. You are being short with me because your nerves are already frayed…”

She trails off as her gaze suddenly lowers to my chest, to the antique gold chain that dips beneath the neckline of my gown. Her lips press into a thin line.

“Aurelia, we have already spoken about this.”

I flinch away. “You know I must wear it, Mama—” I begin to say, but she is already shaking her head, refusing to listen.

“No.” Her hand shoots toward me and takes hold of the chain, wrenching free the pendant I have worn every day of my life for the past twelve years.

To my eyes, it is the prettiest piece of jewelry I own: one of Bene’s own pearlescent scales, set in gold and wrapped with silver threads of Mind magic that only I can see.

To Mama’s eyes, it is simply one more reminder that I am something strange.

And that we owe our new, comfortable life to a dragon.

“Not tonight,” she begs, unclasping it from my throat before I can stop her. “It clashes with your gown. And it is an insult to Lord Reginald.”

The moment the weight of Bene’s amulet departs from me, a quiet panic flutters in my chest. “Please,” I gasp, already struggling to tamp down my emotions, to dull my glow.

My glow .

It has haunted me ever since the day I turned eighteen—the day I first began to shine like a candle’s flame at the slightest provocation.

But Bene’s necklace has always helped. He enchanted it for that express purpose: to help hide what I am—some accursed oddity clearly tainted by being born too close to the Door.

“No,” Mama says again, trying to pocket it.

But I won’t let her. I can’t. I need it.

“Please.” I fight to pry the amulet from her fingers. “Benevolence said I must wear it at all times. Please, let me at least keep it in my pocket.”

Mama shushes me again, flashing yet another worried glance toward the door. “We do not speak that name in this house, Aurelia,” she reminds me. “It upsets your father.”

But finally, she relents, letting me take hold of the necklace.

I draw in a deep breath and clench my eyes shut, drowning out all other stimuli until there is only me and Bene’s scale beneath my fingers. I focus on it and it alone, on the faint ridges grooving its surface, on the almost imperceptible thrum of magic pulsing from deep within its heart.

My pulse steadies. My glow dims.

When I open my eyes and slip the amulet into my pocket, tucking it in alongside the two letters there, Mama offers me a worried smile.

“You’ll be fine,” she reassures me, though even she doesn’t sound so sure. “Just remember your breathing exercises. And do try not to get too excited, my love.”

My own smile feels thin as I brush past her at last and lead the way out into the hallway, down the stairs, and into the sitting room turned into a nursing ward where Papa sleeps away what is left of his life beneath the watchful eye of Nurse Frances.

The strange illness came upon him last year, reducing him to his current state—a mere shell of his former self. None of the doctors can tell us what is wrong. None of the teas and tinctures they prescribe do anything at all.

Bene could heal him if he were here. I know that all the way down to my bones.

But Bene is a world away, trapped behind the closed Door.

The curtains are drawn over the sitting room windows, leaving only a sliver of late afternoon light spilling across the pillow, illuminating my father’s wan features. He is so pale, so thin.

My heart nearly breaks all over again to see it.

“Hello, Papa,” I whisper, bending over to press a kiss to his brow. “I am off to His Majesty’s ball with Lord Reginald now, but I will come back and tell you all about it later tonight.”

He doesn’t answer me. He doesn’t move. His breathing remains constant yet shallow. His eyes remain closed.

But for a single moment, I could almost swear I see him smile.

“Come on, dear,” Mama softly urges, her hand tucking into the crook of my elbow. “We must hurry if we are to run that… little errand before we meet Lord Reginald at the palace.”

Errand , she says, as if journeying to the fairy circle one last time and cutting ties with the only man I’ve ever loved is simply another item on our to-do list. But I don’t protest. The time for protests is long past.

Father is dying. Today, I am thirty years old.

I cannot wait for my dragon prince any longer.