“You’re staring again,” Jean muttered.
“How do you do that?”
“What?” Jean asked, lifting his head.
“See without seeing.” I knew he could, had witnessed it myself. He was powerful, in possession of magic almost as old as mine, but so different, so foreign to me that I couldn’t name it.
“You know how I do it. My magic. Thousands of years of honing my skills and shaping my magic into a new sense. It’s not without its faults, but it allows me to do more than expected.”
“But it takes constant effort on your part, doesn’t it? Physically and mentally. You’re always drawing from your magic and manipulating it into whatever form is needed for you to see the world, to do your duty.”
Jean’s brows drew together, and he slowly moved the tablet onto the cushion beside him. “What aren’t you saying?”
“Isn’t it exhausting?”
“It’s… challenging.”
“And if you were to get hurt, it would become far more difficult, to control your magic, to force it to see for you.”
“Your Majesty?” Jean stood. “Why are you asking me these questions?”
After all our years together, I never once questioned Jean or his magic, but I found myself growing… concerned for him, and I had no blasted idea why. “If you were hurt, you would be left vulnerable.”
Jean stopped in front of my desk and placed his hands down in front of me, leaning in close. “I am not easily hurt.”
“Because of what you are.”
Jean stilled, the muscles in his jaw working and his fingers curling on the desk’s surface. “What am I?” His words were barely above a whisper.
“You know very well I don’t know. You refuse to tell me.” I trusted Jean more than anyone, but with every passing century, it grew more difficult to ignore the sting of knowing he didn’t feel the same. “Why won’t you trust me?”
“Trust has nothing to do with it. You know there is no one I trust more than you.”
“Then why won’t you tell me?” I frowned down at my hands. He wasn’t one of my children. That much I knew from the very moment we met. He was something else. Something… powerful. Dangerous. His scent was foreign to me. Unlike any creature I’d come across.
“Alarick.”
His use of my name startled me, and I lifted my gaze to his face.
“I would die before I let any harm come to you.”
“I would rather you lived and continued to meddle in my eating habits,” I grumbled, making him smile. I hated tension between us. He was my best friend. I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it. “Forgive me. I think knowing what I must do today has me feeling out of sorts.”
He straightened and nodded. “I understand. You know you can always talk to me. About anything.”
I smiled warmly at him. “And I cherish that.”
“Good. Now, Prince Bernd.” Jean resumed his seat on the couch and picked up his tablet.
I sighed. “He’s going to hate me.”
“Perhaps, but in time, he’ll come to realize what you did for him.”
I leaned back in my chair and turned my gaze out the window to the picturesque beauty outside. “And you really believe this is the only way?”
“Yes. Bernd is a good man, but if you don’t intervene, your bear shifter prince will lose more than his kingdom.”
“You’re right.” I moved my gaze to Jean. “Let’s do this, then.”
Chapter One
PRINCE BERND
I saw him in my dreams again.
I stirred awake as the early morning sunlight shone through the expansive windows of my personal library, flooding the room in a heavenly glow. Rays of soft light caressed the intricately carved floor-to-ceiling wood bookcases, and I stretched on the plush couch, it’s length and width large enough for my great bear shifter frame. The couch, like the rest of my artfully detailed furniture, had been designed specifically for me by the royal carpenter. I marveled at its beauty every day, awed that someone could create such exquisite art with their hands.
Speaking of exquisite…
For the third time this week, I dreamt of my mysterious stranger. A smile slipped onto my face at the thought of him, his warmth and kindness. The love that flowed from him left me speechless every time I held him in my arms. I groaned again, rolling onto my back to stare at the ceiling. Why was this happening to me? For months now I’d had the most amazing dreams. Problem was, I had no idea who the guy in my dream was. I didn’t even know if he was a shifter. For some reason, when I woke, I couldn’t remember what he looked like—as if his identity was being kept from me, and I couldn’t understand why. Had I met him before? He seemed so real. Why couldn’t I see his face?
Rolling onto my side with a huff, I closed my eyes, allowing myself a few more minutes of peaceful slumber. I must be losing it. It was merely a dream—a wonderful, beautiful dream. I’d about drifted off again when a thunderous clatter that seemed to quake the floors of the palace startled me so badly I jolted forward. Running out of couch, I flailed before hitting the floor with a heavy thud. This was not how I wanted to start my day. Maybe if I ignored it, it would go away. I groaned and let my brow rest against the thick carpet until another crash of something falling echoed outside my door.
“Goddess, help me,” I growled, scrambling to my feet so quickly I tripped and nearly fell headfirst into the heavy wooden door. Just what I needed before coffee—to knock myself out.
“When I get my hands on you…” I threw open the door and listened, quickly pinpointing the direction the destruction traveled. Taking off without so much as another thought to my bare feet and chest, I thundered down the stairs at the end of the corridor. Two fluffy black blurs forced me to jump back or be plowed over, their screeches filling the early morning air. “What did I say about shifting indoors,” I shouted after them, taking off in a run. This madness wouldn’t end until I caught at least one of the two fuzz balls.
Pounding after them, I dodged toppled tables and furniture, flying vases and pillows. Fortunately, while they lumbered on their four little legs, I was faster on my two long ones, and I was an expert at corralling mischief-making bear shifter cubs. I cut them off, forcing them into one of the sitting rooms, where I dove over the loveseat, rolled off the cushions, and landed on the floor right behind Attie. Or was this Turi? Grabbing him, I held on tight as he wriggled.
“If you claw me, so help me, you’ll be grounded for a decade!”
A cold snout jabbed into my ear, and I cursed. Loudly. “Damn it, Attie!”
“I’m Attie,” Attie protested from where he sat on my chest, now that he’d shifted.
I lay on the floor staring at the ceiling as the twins, now shifted back into their obnoxious eleven-year-old selves, argued about who was the winner of the race. With a firm but gentle shove, I pushed Attie off me, and he toppled over with a giggle.
“Neither of you won. I won.” I stood and turned to arch an eyebrow at them, my arms crossed over my chest. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t ground you both?”