Page 7 of A Witch and Her Dragon
“Here you are, love,” the shopkeeper says, pulling my attention away from the window and my thoughts of the academy. Her brown eyes sparkle in the light coming through the front window, and she tucks a strand of short brown hair behind her ear as she leans forward with her arm outstretched. Behind her, in the kitchen, a young woman with pale lavender hair works on frosting cupcakes with focused intensity, not even glancing up at me. The women have the same light brown skin—mother and daughter, perhaps.
I take the paper bag from her hand and thank her before heading back out into the spring-warm streets.
My boots clip across the cobbles at a brisk pace. I turn onto Kingfisher Crescent and sidestep two children running down the road. They giggle as they pass me by. Then my strides slow without me meaning for them to. I clutch the paper bag tightly, though I’m careful not to crush the croissants and pastries inside.
I hope she takes this well . . .
The seamstress’s shop where my mother works has the door propped open, and I pop my head through to say hello to Celia, the owner. She’s with a customer, but she waves when she sees me, her hazel eyes crinkling in the corners.Then I take a breath and head up the side stairs to the apartment above the shop, each step feeling heavier than the one before it.
Almost as soon as I knock, the door goes flying open, and my youngest sister, Gilda, squeals and launches herself into my arms, almost making me topple backward down the stairs. It’s a miracle I save the pastries from being squashed by her.
“Who is it?” Mama calls from the back room.
“Raelan’s home!” Gilda yells in return.
I pick her up with one arm, then step through the door and push it closed with my boot.
Inside, the air is pleasant, and one of the windows is opened wide, letting the fresh spring breeze twirl through, sending the drapes billowing.
Though small, this apartment is the nicest place my family has ever lived. When the king discovered my secret ten years ago, he made me a deal: He’d house my family in Wysteria—and help me control my magic—if I agreed to become his page and serve the kingdom of Elarwyn as part of his guard. At the time, my family and I were barely making ends meet, and my mother struggled to feed the four of us. My father was already gone by that time, and I was working as a delivery boy for a few shops in town, scraping together every eldertoken I could in an effort to help feed my two younger sisters.
The king’s offer was a blessing. I wasted no time taking him up on it. And true to his word, he moved my family into this apartment as soon as I startedmy training as a page. My mother and sisters have lived here for ten years now—it’s the onlytruehome they’ve ever known.
And I will do whatever it takes to ensure it stays that way.
Mama steps out of the back room, where she and my sisters sleep. Her long dark hair is pulled back in a low bun, with a few tendrils hanging loose around her face. When she reaches up to push a strand behind her ear, her fingers brush the deep scars etched into her bronze cheek. The scars reach from her brow down to her chin, and she’s blind in one eye because of them. They’ve been there since I was a child, yet I still take note of them every time I see her. The scars are a reminder of why the chain around my neck is so important, why I have to be careful with the beast that lurks inside me. Because if I’m not, if I lose control of myself for even a moment, I could hurt someone I love. Or worse.
“Raelan,” Mama says, opening her arms wide. “Come here. It’s been too long.”
Still holding Gilda, I kick off my boots, then pad across the room to wrap Mama in my other arm. She smells of linen and rose, just as she always has. Breathing her in helps to calm the worry in my heart.
“Where’s Clarice?” I ask as I straighten up, my gaze flicking to the bedroom in search of my other sister.
“I sent her on a few errands. She’ll be home soon.” Mama sniffs the air, and then she spots the bag in my hand. “You didn’t!” she says happily.
“Of course I did.” I hand her the bag, and when she opens it and a puff of sweet-smelling air comes out, she sighs.
Then her eyes—one dark brown, the other milky from the injury—snap toward me. “Wait a minute. Are you trying to butter me up for something?”
Ever since I was a boy, I’ve never been able to pull one over on my mother. Seems that’ll never change.
I set Gilda down with a sigh, my smile falling. Then I nod once. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
MAMA’S CHOCOLATE-STRAWBERRY CROISSANT SITS ON a tiny porcelain dish, untouched. It has since lost the warmth it had when I left the bakery and no longer steams in the sunlight slipping through the window in the kitchen. Gilda, though, finished her blueberry-vanilla pastry within moments of me handing it to her. Now she’s in the sitting room, a book open on the floor in front of her. She has her chin propped in her hands and kicks her bare feet while she reads, unaware of the seriousness of the conversation happening in the kitchen behind her.
“Can you refuse?” Mama asks, worry coloring her tone. “Perhaps the king will pick someone else.”
I give a firm shake of my head. “I tried. But His Majesty picked me for this personally. It’s set in stone. We leave in August.”
Mama lifts a thumb to her lips and bites her thumbnail, her forehead furrowing. Her gaze darts to Gilda, then back to me. “I don’t like this, Rae. You know you have to stay away from her. How are you going to control yourself when you’re in such close proximity to her?”
My mother is the only person who knows of my mate connection to the princess. She knows how these work—she was,is, my father’s mate. And she’s one of the reasons I know I have to keep my dragon in control around Alina.
All it would take is one moment of weakness, and I could scar Alina the way my mother is scarred. I could kill her.
I barely know Alina, have only spoken a few words with her, yet my stomach twists at the idea of marring her beautiful face, of hurting her in any way.
The same goes for my mother and little sisters. Anyone close to me could be hurt if my dragon broke free for even a moment.
