Page 14 of Myth of Dragons (Dragon Tails 4)

“It is rare to meet a man who takes interest in such pursuits.”

Lord Larkin paused for a few beats before his eyes sharpened on a thought.

“Absolutely,” he replied.

Brigid suspected that he hadn’t been planning to say so until the last moment.

“In fact, I collect fairytales from all around the world as a hobby,” he elaborated. “My…uncle has a whole arsenal of them with which he’s regaled me since I was a tiny tot.”

“Oh?” Brigid prompted, curious.

“What are they about?”

Lord Larkin flashed a lopsided smile.

“About cuckoos and snakes. Dragons and phoenixes. Mythical, magical creatures from other worlds.”

“Fascinating,” Brigid said sincerely.

“I am especially interested in a story about a particular person,” Lord Larkin went on. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

“Go on,” Brigid urged.

“The Myth of the Pale Prince,” he said, regarding her with unblinkingly shrewd eyes.

“Does it ring a bell?”

Something hammered quite profoundly and insistently in her chest. Rather like the banging of an internal gong. Brigid realized that it must be her wayward heart.

But why would the name of a fairytale she’d never heard of elicit such a reaction?

And yet, it resonated with her somehow. As if the Pale Prince was real, and their talking of him could conjure him into being.

Perhaps he was close by even now.

Brigid looked around reflexively.

She could almostfeelhim. Smell him.

Salt and sun. Crisp, sharp and totally addictive.

But nothing out of the ordinary met her eyes. The book shop had emptied of the small flock of children who came every week for a half hour of story time since Brigid took up the habit of coming here over the past fortnight that she’d been in Town. An average-sized crowd milled casually around the shelves and display tables.

No one remotely resembling a “Pale Prince” could be seen.

And yet…

The Hero of Brigid’s own fairytale, the central figure of all of her dreams since she was a wee bairn, could very well be called a “Pale Prince.” For it was exactly how he appeared. In head-to-toe resplendent silver, like Brigid described in her story.

But it washerstory.

Her secret desire.

No one else knew about it apart from these children and their caretakers in this city she’d never visited before. And didn’t plan on revisiting once her first and only Season was over.

Now Lord Larkin and Annie knew her secret as well.

Was it possible that Brigid had heard or read a fairytale about such a being before and not remember when and where? Had she internalized the story into her own fantasies and dreams?

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