Sated: A Reverse Harem Dragon Shifter Fairytale Book (Goldilocks and The Three Dragons Trilogy 3) Read online

  Marigold exhaled. It was cowardly of her, but she was glad the forensic wizard had told the brothers and not her. It would have been too painful to be the bearer of such terrible news, especially since she had been the person who had found their parents’ bodies. While Governor Hertz hadn’t gloated about the use of the elixir for the murders, he had demonstrated far too much knowledge about Aqua Torpentes to have never used it before poisoning her at the ball.

  “Bring her into the examination room,” said a weary voice. It belonged to a male, and Marigold assumed it was Dr. Squamatus.

  They continued through the hallway, into a bright, lantern-lit room. All she could see of it was a wall lined with leather tomes that needed a good dusting. It made her wonder if the lady from before was a patient, wife, or housekeeper. Marigold would never have left a room in such a state while working for Lord Arctos. Polaris laid her on a firm bed, lined with rough linen, and she stared up at the ceiling.

  Dr Squamatus’s concerned face came into view, and his long, braided mustache grazed her collarbone. “What in the name of Myrddin happened? I need all the details. Leave nothing out.”

  Polaris sighed. “I will let Matheson begin, because the story starts at the palace ball.”

  Matheson launched into his version of events, stammering when he reached the part where he left her alone to dance with the King. She had seen him dance with Queen Grimalda, so that part was true. However, the next time she had looked, the Queen was dancing with the High Sheriff, and she could not find Matheson anywhere. To learn that he had been talking with a judge, then a Prince and then his former betrothed while he should have been watching out for her had been a disappointment.

  Polaris picked up the rest of the story, explaining that he had been perched on top of the Parliament building, when Berrin had acted strangely.

  “Excuse me,” said the doctor, “Are you suggesting that young Marigold is able to use Berrin’s power?”

  Marigold gulped. Her mating bond with Berrin was the exact reason why he was currently languishing in a jail cell somewhere. She wanted to yell at the brothers to go down there and make sure Governor Hertz hadn’t handed him over to the assassins to render into dragon meat and leather.

  “That’s right,” said Polaris. “I recognized it straight away, because it was something King Vulcan suggested Princess Snowdrop would be able to do.”

  Marigold’s heart sank at the reminder of his betrothal, and tears pricked the back of her eyes. That time alone she’d had with Polaris confirmed that she wanted him now more than ever, but he was now out of reach, as he would be mated with King Vulcan’s only daughter. Pushing aside the sting of betrayal piercing her heart, she focussed on the rest of the story. If it hadn’t been for Polaris recognizing her existence in Berrin’s mind and teaching her to fly, she would still be in Governor Hertz’ clutches. Polaris continued the story, describing her like a character out of an epic ballad.

  The doctor hummed. “Has she even blinked since you retrieved her?”

  “No,” said Matheson.

  “I will perform my own diagnostic. The new poisons are not a speciality of mine, due to my focus being family medicine as opposed to crime and autopsies. However, if a forensic wizard identified Aqua Torpentes, then I will not doubt him.”

  White light soaked into her body, making her nerve endings tingle. Then as quickly as it entered her, it left in a whoosh.

  “Hmmm…” said the doctor. “There is a trace amount of a toxin unbalancing her air element, which is related to the blood humor and governs movement and spirit. Her other elements are strong enough.”

  “Can you cure her?” asked Polaris.

  “There are few options, I’m afraid. It may take several days for young Marigold to regain movement if we do nothing. However, if I perform a magical purgative—”

  “No,” said Polaris. “She’s suffered enough for one week. I don’t want her in any pain.”

  Marigold’s heart lurched. Surely it couldn’t be as bad as enemas or leeches? She thought back about some of the treatments Lord Arctos’ physician had given him for his imagined illnesses. They were unpleasant, but only one of them had made her blood run cold. His physician had once drilled a hole in his skull to cure a blistering headache. It hadn’t worked, and Lord Arctos had transformed his hands into claws and mauled the physician for his trouble. If the purgative was anything like that, she would agree with Polaris and remain in this state until the Aqua Torpentes wore off.

  “I see,” snapped Matheson, anger simmering in his voice. “It’s all right for you to order a purgative for me without my consent?”

  Polaris sniffed. “Nobody forced distilled wormwood down your throat or papaver into your lungs. You made your own choices! Marigold did not.”

  Matheson growled, and the noise made Marigold’s stomach flip. She hated it when the brothers fought. Even worse was not being able to dive out of the way if a scuffle broke out.

  “Please do not argue in front of my patient,” said the doctor, his voice carrying the chill of a Boreas breeze.

  “I apologize,” said Polaris. “But there has to be a middle ground to remove the poison. One of our medics used heated cups to remove venom from a bite. Could you—”

  “If it was a mere case of a recent snake bite, then I would,” replied the doctor. “But this elixir is magically enhanced and has disabled each voluntary nerve. It’s everywhere, and I would need a thousand glass cups to draw it out.”

  “Perform the magical purgative,” said Matheson, his voice tight. “I am of age, and she’s my mate.”

  Polaris snarled, but the doctor must have made a silencing gesture, because he made an abrupt stop. “Polaris, what Matheson says is true. Boys, I must ask you to leave. I’m sure that the young lady will not want you to see her in such a distressed state.”

  “But her dress…” said Matheson.

  Heat rose to Marigold’s cheeks. After what he had done, she couldn’t believe he had a nerve to even hint at undressing her.

  “I am well-versed in magical clothes swaps.” The doctor’s tone was flat, as though he saw through Matheson’s attempt to see her naked. “When the purgative is finished, I will call you.”

  The magical purgative had been painful and unpleasant, and she had been glad for the linen shift, as it had been soaked within seconds of the spell hitting her. Every fluid imaginable had spilled out of her body, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. She’d never felt such overwhelming nausea, and the stillness of her stomach muscles had made her condition a hundred times worse. The doctor changed her garments countless times during the procedure, apologizing that it was taking so long because she couldn’t vomit. It was only when tremors rocked her body that she ejected the contents of her stomach in endless, tiny bursts that the nausea abated.

  It took what felt like an hour for the trace amount of poison to leave her system, and when she stopped shaking, the doctor changed her shift into a long, cotton chemise. He handed her a goblet of a spicy-smelling liquid. “Drink this, my dear. It will settle your stomach.”

  She stared down into the concoction, grimacing as bubbles rose and popped, releasing a mix of pungent aromas and peppery scents. When nausea made her insides spasm, she poured the effervescent concoction down her throat, trying not to cough as it burned a path to her stomach.

  “The ginger helps to boost your fire element, and the bubbles replenish your air. After a few days’ rest, you will make a full recovery.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her throat hoarse from vomiting.

  The doctor pulled up a stool and sat next to her cot. “I have a question for you, my dear.”

  She turned her eyes to the doctor, who frowned down at her. His thick, platinum braids fell over his shoulders, meeting his mustache at the level of his collarbones. Matching brows furrowed into a deep V, accentuating the lines of worry marring his kindly face.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “Are you happy with your mate
s? They seem rather… argumentative.”

  “Well…” Marigold stared down into her lap, playing with the hem of her sleeve.

  “Anything you tell me is strictly confidential. The Auburn family may pay my bills, but my discretion remains with my patient.”

  She raised her shoulders. “Polaris isn’t my mate, because—” A rush of emotion surged from her shattered heart, catching in her throat. She swallowed, breathing hard to compose herself. “He’s betrothed to Princess Snowdrop.”

  “From the sadness in your voice, I take it that you are not happy with the arrangement?”

  She nodded, not wanting to voice how much it had hurt to hear the news from King Vulcan rather than from Polaris himself.

  “And Matheson?” asked Doctor Squamatus.

  “We haven’t mated.”

  A silence hung between them, broken by the faint sounds of the tiny cuckoo clock on the wall. Marigold supposed the doctor wanted to ask if she had plans to mate with Matheson, but she wouldn’t preempt his question with an answer. Instead, she ducked her head and stared down into her lap. It was hard to talk about these matters to a stranger, let alone a learned, old wizard like Dr. Squamatus. He probably didn’t want to hear that she’d fallen in love with one brother, committed herself to another she couldn’t stand and was heartbroken by the third because he had taken advantage of her desire for him. It would make her sound like some kind of fallen woman.

  “I see.” He paused. “The reason for my asking is because you are not entirely a fire dragon.”

  Her head snapped up to his face. “I’m a half-blood like Ella?”

  “No. Any she-dragon able to possess her mate is at least some part a spirit-dragon.”

  “What are those?”

  “You are aware of the four humors, yes? What about the four elements?”

  She nodded. In medicine, this referred to either blood, black bile, yellow bile and phlegm. Each corresponded to a specific element, such as air, earth, fire and water. Berrin had told her that there had been more than one type of dragon but hadn’t elaborated. “What powers are associated with spirit dragons?”

  “They command the air element, meaning the strongest of them breathe hurricanes.”

  Her eyes bulged. “Would I be able to do this—”

  “The last pure-blooded spirit dragon died two decades ago, I’m afraid. It’s unlikely that you will be able to breathe more than a gale, due to your mixed blood.”

  “Oh. Can you tell what else I might be?”

  “Without knowing your pedigree, we will have to wait until the birth of your first child.” He scratched his chin. “Although…”

  She leaned forward, her heart thrumming with excitement. “Is there anything else?”

  “Depending on the strength of your air element, you may be able to reach a transformation before childbirth. She-dragons of your breed can transform early by becoming mated to strong dragons of the same element.”

  Marigold’s shoulders slumped. Polaris was never hers to mate with, Berrin was behind bars, and it would take another dozen doses of Aqua Torpentes for her to consent to ever mate with Matheson. She bowed her head, wondering why the doctor had asked her if she was happy with her mates. Perhaps being a spirit dragon meant that King Vulcan’s blessing wasn’t binding. It didn’t matter, because she still wanted to be with Berrin, and she still wanted to help the brothers regain their inheritance from Governor Hertz.

  Before she could consider asking, he coughed. “I must leave to check on Polaris. The burns he sustained during the battle with the she-dragon will have left some residual magical damage. My housekeeper will see that you stay overnight for observation.”

  She sniffled. “What if Berrin was locked up in a deep dungeon like that dragon in the House of Corrections?”

  The doctor placed a warm, dry hand on her shoulder. “I will check on Berrin this evening to ensure he is undamaged from his interaction with Governor Hertz.”

  Hope trickled from her heart, spreading its warmth through her chest. She smiled up at the doctor. “You’d do that?”

  “He’s my patient, after all.”

  As soon as the doctor left, Matheson slunk into the room. The lanterns made his hair shine like burnished copper, and his face took on the pallor of parchment. Her insides crawled, and she pulled the thin, cotton blanket to her chin. “What do you want?”

  “To apologize.”

  “Again?” she spat.

  “Look, I meant to watch you this evening, but—”

  “I heard you explain it earlier to Polaris. He might have forgiven you, but turning your back while your uncle dragged me away seems like the kind of thing you would do.”

  Matheson stared at her, mouth agape, acting like he had never wrung her by the neck or had ever hurled insults and innuendo. If she had the strength in her limbs, she would have slapped the fake innocence from his colorless cheeks. She much preferred him when he was making barbs at her expense or lunging at her. At least then, she knew to be wary of him. This ‘nicer’ version of him was the biggest backstabber since her wretch of a former fiancé, Unwin.

  “Marigold—”

  “Don’t say my name like that!”

  “I will be a better dragon.” His voice broke. “My actions have led the family to ruin, and apologizing won’t bring my parents back from the dead or Berrin out from Uncle Hertz’ clutches. But I swear to you that I will get Berrin back.”

  Tears clouded her vision, and she turned away, not wanting him to see her cry. He sounded so genuine and remorseful, but then so did those louts who had sobered up after getting drunk on mead and beating up their womenfolk. She’d always promised herself never to stay involved with a liar, and now she was bonded to one and had fallen for another. If it wasn’t for Berrin’s love and Governor Hertz hunting her, she would walk out and start a new life for herself on Fafnir Island.

  After what felt like forever, the door clicked shut. She supposed Matheson had left, but strong arms wrapped around her and picked her up. Polaris’ wood fire scent engulfed her senses. “Matheson has left with Dr. Squamatus to check on Berrin, and I’m here to put you to bed.”

  She closed her eyes, hating herself for relaxing into the warmth and safety of his arms. Resting her head on his shoulder, feeling like a desperate, love-sick fool, she asked, “Stay with me?”

  He pressed a kiss on her temple. “There is nowhere else I would rather be.”

  Chapter 3

  The next morning, Matheson glowered into his bowl of porridge, clenching his spoon. Sunlight streamed in from the dining room’s window shutters, making a pattern like the bars of a prison cell. His heavy heart thudded in time with the distant ticking of the grandfather clock, and he closed his eyes.

  Last night had been terrible. He and Dr. Squamatus couldn’t find Berrin in the prison for dragons, and it had taken them hours of searching before they’d located him, naked and miserable, in the deepest pits of the Sheriff Court, a place reserved for humans accused of inciting rebellion. Matheson gritted his teeth, so angry he could spit. It had taken the intervention of Judge Fervens, the dragon he had met at the ball, to allow Berrin medical treatment, and to have him moved to a warm, well-appointed cell befitting a dragon.

  The moment she heard the news, Nanny and her sons had rushed out to see Berrin with a basket full of breakfast things, casting Matheson a filthy look for having caused all the trouble in the first place.

  “Damn it.” Matheson threw his spoon across the empty dining table. Everyone in the family hated him for what had happened to Marigold and Berrin. Even Nanny, his greatest ally. That, plus Polaris’ insistence on spending the night ‘watching’ Marigold, was the reason why Matheson was now sitting alone in the family dining room, accompanied, not by family but by silence and a single, lukewarm bowl of porridge.

  The distant creak of a door told him that someone had returned. He bolted out of his seat and rushed out of the dining room. Marigold and Polaris made a somber pair, walking t
hrough the hallway with downcast faces. Polaris was naked from having flown, and Marigold wore a thicker version of the white, cotton chemise the doctor had given her the night before. Her face took on a sickly pallor, and even her pretty, blond curls drooped.

  “What news do you have?” asked Polaris.

  Marigold turned her head as though the sight of Matheson hurt her eyes.

  Guilt clawed at Matheson’s chest as he pictured Berrin suffering in that pit. The worst part of it was that Berrin hadn’t even wanted Matheson to pretend to be mates with Marigold, and because of his inattention last night, Berrin was suffering.

  Matheson swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice from breaking. “The doctor and I visited Berrin. He’s well, but—”

  “I want to see him,” she said.

  Polaris furrowed his brow. “That would expose you to Uncle Hertz.”

  “It makes no difference where I go.” She raised her head, her eyes as hard as jade. “Staying in this house exposes me to your uncle, as does leaving it. He isn’t going to stop, so I may as well get to see Berrin.”

  “I will take you,” said Matheson.

  “No,” she snapped. “I want—”

  “We’re supposed to be mates. They’ll be expecting to see us together, not you and Polaris.” He couldn’t bring himself to add that this was the reason why the High Sheriff had seen fit to arrest Berrin for cuckolding.

  Marigold’s stare turned into a glower, and Matheson’s face flamed. He would never understand she-dragons. He had made a mistake! How could she prefer to spend time with a dragon who had deliberately fornicated with her while being betrothed to a Princess? He pressed his lips together, holding back the question on his tongue. He might be foul-mouthed, addicted to the most terrible substances in existence, and a disappointment to everyone who mattered, but at least he would be true to his she-dragon. Polaris, on the other hand, appeared to treat them like wenches to be used and discarded.

  Polaris placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’s right. Now that my engagement is public knowledge, it would only arouse Uncle Hertz’ suspicions to see you on my arm instead of Matheson’s.”