Chapter 2
Nicholas had fallen in love with Rosa when they were little more than children. She had been a princess, an heiress to the witch coven Halloway, and they had always moved in the same circles. When she wore a crown on her head, draped in jewels and ball gowns, it had been acceptable for him to hold her hand, to stare at her. They got on famously, and there had been talk of marriage. Witches were fueled by magic, their bodies not operating like humans. Their hearts beat because of magic, and their brains functioned because of magic. They were almost nothing but magic taking a human form.
But the Halloway line had faltered and then fell. Ancestral magic, the kind that they used, needed four living coven members in order to practice and flow. It was easier than one thought for a line to fail. A brother has no children, another one only has three, a battle, or an accident. Within three years, the Halloway line fell to the crucial four, and six months after that, one.
Rosa was ripped away from public life by other witch covens. She was put in hiding, moved from planet to planet, house to house, each time her identity was discovered. She had to support herself, most of the time; the covens helping her had little money themselves. Her death would mean the death of that line forever. She could barely use magic, and each time she did nearly killed her.
Nicholas knew that people surrounding the dragon princes tended to die. They lived a dangerous life, and although they were strong, wounding them was as easy as killing the ones they loved.
And he could not live in a world where there was not Rosa. He simply could not function and could not breathe. She was the most precious thing in the world to him, and he needed her to live, even if they were apart.
And so, their relationship fell into hiding. He found out where she was each time she was moved on his own accord. He could not trust anyone to know he was always looking for her.
When he found out, he went when he could, visiting her no more than twice a move. Any more than that, and it would raise suspicion, he thought. Being seen in the vicinity of the same man twice was a coincidence; three times was not.
They never had public dates; they never went to dinner or held hands in the park. But it was enough for him to simply hold her at night and know that wherever he was in the universe, she was safe.
He was not surprised when he got to the address that she had given him, but he was disappointed. Rosa's job did not lead to luxurious living quarters, and it seemed the covens were giving her no help this time. He wished he could help, but any money coming from his accounts to hers might arouse suspicion. Even paying a bill she normally couldn't would raise eyebrows as to how, and so he could do nothing but leave her a few dollars each time.
This time around, she had slipped him a key to a studio apartment on the second floor of a building that he wasn't sure was any safer than the world knowing she was with him.
It was sparsely decorated, with beat up furniture, and a bed in the middle of the room. Normally, if he got to a place earlier than her, he cleaned up, made dinner, and waited. But he could see nothing to clean up, and there was barely tea in the cabinets.
Sinking onto her bed, he stared at the cracked ceiling as he waited. It was cold, but the heat was probably set low to avoid a high bill.
This was no life for a princess. She deserved a palace, a crown, and servants. Instead, she looked to be barely surviving.
Rosa got home shortly after 4:30 and fell into his arms right away.
“I can't believe you're really here,” she said, trying to snuggle as close to him as possible. “I've spent so many nights dreaming; so many days hoping–”
“Shh, love,” he kissed her head, drawing her into his lean body. “I'm here now.”
“For how long?”
“Technically, until Tuesday morning,” he replied, “but I don't know if it's safe to stay that long.”
“No one is watching,” she assured him. “No one notices anyone here.”
She felt thinner than she normally did. She was small-boned, but her normally lean stomach was concave, and her shoulder bones popped through the top of her arms. She moved to get under the covers, shivering, and he wished he could light the whole room on fire to warm her.
“How was work?” he asked, trying to make the situation normal. “Do you like working there?”
“It's a job,” she rolled over to face him. “It was the highest paying job I could find, so I took it. We get commission on top of an hourly rate.”
“Ah, so I should have bought ten vests,” he said, and she smiled.
“If you are in need of them, yes,” she replied. “But let's not talk about work now. Do you want some tea?”
“I'll make it, love,” he said, as they both sat up. “You worked all day.”
“I worked four hours, actually,” she said. “It was supposed to be eight, but they cut my hours from this morning, which is a terrible hit on the paycheck.”
He didn't know what to say to that, because he had never been in that situation before. All he knew was that it was terrible, and he wished he could help.
“The tea is in the bottom cabinet,” she pointed him in the right direction. “I have sugar, but I don't think I have milk.”
“Leave it to me,” he kissed her head and got up, going to boil water in the beat-up kettle. While he prepared the fixings for tea, he watched her out of the corner of his eye.
Rosa had always been quiet and thoughtful. Everything she said and did was pre-determined in her mind, and she often moved slowly. It hadn't ever concerned him until recently. She had never had his high amounts of energy, but something had changed. He knew her well enough to know what she was thinking just from the movement of her eyes. Now, as she got up to do a few things, she seemed to be constantly calculating where the next place she could sit down was to put away an item, charge her phone, close a book. There was a couch, the window ledge, a dining room chair, and the edge of the bed that she moved from.
The kettle boiled, and he poured the tea, bringing both mugs to the table.
“Are you all right, Rosa?” he asked, as she fiddled with her phone. She looked up and gave him a smile.
“Yes. I'm just tired. Perhaps we could have an early night?”
“Whatever you need, my love,” he said, as they both sat. “I'll cook your dinner, do your laundry, and rub your feet….”
She laughed.
“We are remarkably domestic, given our situation.”
“I would trade it all for domestic bliss with you,” he said. “Especially since my brothers are all married now.”
“I saw Cole the other day,” she said, and he looked up. Being half witch, Cole could visit her with no issues. He was up to date on witch affairs, and often went to Rosa for advice. “He looked well, for the brief moment he stopped in to ask a question.”
“And could you answer it?” he asked.
“Of course, I know everything about magic.” She gave him a teasing smile. “I just can't use it.”
“You will again one day.” He placed a hand over hers, and she looked down. They both knew that the chances of that were unlikely.
Dinner was a dismal creation, but he thought it was the best meal that he had ever had in his life, because he shared it with her. Cobbled together from various leftovers, it was barely enough for his growling stomach and tall frame. Rosa seemed full after a few bites though, a fact that he was sure contributed to her new figure.
Everything was normal until they were going to get ready for bed. It was as if they were a married couple, taking turns brushing their teeth and turning out the lights.
Rosa got up to wash her face when he returned from the bathroom. He glanced down at his phone, and the next thing he knew, there was a giant crash.
He looked up in terror to see Rosa crashing to the floor. He couldn't move fast enough to catch her, but he managed to at least stop her from hitting her head on the hardwood.
Two of his sisters-in-law, Enya and Yvette, were humans in ill health. On more than one occasion, he had caught them both when they fainted. This didn't seem like fainting. Her eyes were wide open in surprise and alert as she reacted to the sudden movement.
“Woah,” he said. “Woah, love. Stay down, don't move, don't move.”
“I'm all right,” she said. “I'm all right.”
“Just stay here a moment.” He pulled her close. “What happened? Did you get dizzy? Have you not eaten enough?”
“No, it's not that.” She leaned against his chest, listening to his breathing. “I'm all right.”
“Rosa,” he picked up something in her voice, “what happened?”
“I…” she swallowed. “Sometimes, the magic just gets a little too weak to support me.”
“What?!” he felt like his world was crashing down. He knew that witches were fueled by magic, of course. He knew they relied on it. But seeing her legs give out made him realize just how much they relied on it.
“It's nothing to worry about,” she tried to assure him. “I'm fine now.”
“You are not fine,” he protested. “How long has this been happening?”
“I don't know,” she replied, but she was a terrible liar.
“Rosa,” he whispered softly, “please tell me.”
“About eight months,” she admitted. “Not usually like this. Just–”
“God.” He held her close for another minute until he felt she was strong enough to stand up. “Do the witches know?”
“Yes,” she said. “But it's expected. Ancestral magic without a coven can't last forever.”
“Let me.” He was ready to flood her with dragon magic, anything to give her strength, but she pushed away.
“You do that, and everyone will know your mark is on me,” she said. “I'm all right. It was a momentary lapse.”
She seemed strong enough and headed to the bathroom. But he wasn't about to let this topic go so easily.
“How long do they expect it to last?” he asked, point blank.
“What?” she turned to him.
“The magic,” he replied. “How long do they expect it to last?”
“Nicholas, there's never been a situation like this,” she replied, lightly. “No one knows for certain–”
“How long?” he demanded again, and she sighed.
“Six months. A year, maybe.”
“And then what happens to you?” he asked.
“And then I…” She turned back to look in the mirror. “…will have no magic life to fuel me.”
“And so, you die,” the words felt hollow.
“And so, I die,” she echoed softly.