Polly gave him a vague smile as he dropped her off at the Freeman mansion. Gilbert smiled back. He hesitated as she went up to the house, watching her go. Her jeans fit so perfectly over her ass that it made his own pants feel tight. He averted his gaze. Perving over women wasn’t something he did.
He did wonder what she’d do if he asked her out to dinner. He’d take her someplace fancy, and they’d talk about nothing and then everything. By the time they were done with dessert, they’d feel like they had known each other forever. Which wouldn’t be a stretch for him—he already felt like he had known her all his life. She didn’t feel that way about him, though, but she would after they talked for a couple hours. And then, when they came home from their date, they wouldn’t want to part from each other and they’d spend the night together. Not necessarily with sex… That could come later, so that things weren’t going at lightning pace. Just being together.
Gilbert sighed as Polly disappeared into the house. He headed back to his own place, considering his fantasy… what would Polly think if she could hear his thoughts?
What would his king think?
When he got to his big, empty place he regretted not asking her to stay. He was so lonely over here… but then, the solitude did mean he could concentrate on the results he’d just gotten back from the follow-up tests he’d done several weeks ago.
Gilbert had begun studying neurological medicine when he was ten years old. He had been chosen for a very important task in the clan; finding a cure for the disease that was killing their king. It wasn’t a task he had chosen himself, and, looking back on his life, he had missed a lot of other opportunities because of it. His studies had been tailored to neurology and medicine from then on. There were never any history studies. No English, or art. But the results were clear. Here he was, young enough that it was a fight to get humans to take him seriously as a doctor, and he was a world-renowned neurosurgeon.
Gilbert got himself a sandwich and sat down at his computer to look over the results. He was only halfway through when his phone started buzzing. He glanced at it and his heart nearly stopped—it was the clan. He rarely got calls from them.
Scrambling, he answered it.
“Gilbert.” The calm voice of Berta came across the line. She was the king’s personal nurse. “We haven’t heard from you in a few days. You were getting some test results back today, yes?”
“Yeah.” Gilbert turned back to his computer. “I was just going over everything. So far, it’s looking pretty good. These follow-ups show that neurons have started to regenerate and—"
“And how soon can you put this into practice with the king?”
Gilbert flinched. “I need more information about it still. Dragon and human physiology are different, and if I try something before I’m certain, it could kill him.”
Berta sighed. “And if we don’t take the chance, he’ll die anyway. I know this is hard for you, Gilbert. All your years of research… You might not be able to save him, though. He’s getting worse, Gilbert. From what I can see, I don’t think he’ll make it past the year. We may have to adjust our plans.”
It was sobering news. It had been several years since he had been back with the clan. He received plenty of MRI scans, though. The damage being done to the king’s brain was clear. When he first lit on this idea, he thought that it was going to be the thing to save them all. But as the years went by, the king got worse and his own research took as many steps backward as it did forward. It revolutionized human approaches, but it wasn’t enough to save his king.
“Gilbert? Are you there?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’m here. If the situation is dire, we should implement the—”
“Gilbert.” Berta interrupted. “You said it could kill him. You know what that means. We need the Queen Daughter here before we try anything. We need his heir in place to take the mantle should this treatment fail to work, or worse, kill him.”
He shook his head, trying to deny it even as his heart thumped hard into his chest. No. Not yet. “It can’t be that bad. She has a life here, to turn it all upside down—”
“Gilbert!”
His eyes pinched shut. His fires churned in his stomach, flickering high and scorching his throat. He wanted to scream at Berta that they couldn’t tell Polly that she was a dragon and the heir to a terrible disease—she already thought she was cursed. Well, it was true. She was cursed, just not in the way she thought she was. If she returned to the clan and took her place as Queen Daughter, the king’s heir, then she would end up with the same disease he had. The one that killed his father, his grandmother, every king or queen of the clan as far back as the generations knew.
“She’s not ready.”
“If she isn’t anointed, then the curse will spread and consume us all. You know that.”
“She doesn’t even know that she’s a dragon. It’s cruel to put her in a position to die for people that she doesn’t even know.”
Berta sighed. “Cruel? It’s what she was born to do. It’s no crueler than slaughtering a bull to eat.”
“Slaughter is right. She’s a person, Berta. She wasn’t raised as one of us. She has never shifted. She has no idea what her heritage is.”
“Then you had better tell her, Gilbert. You say it’s cruel to expect her to take her position as Queen Daughter, to be queen after the king dies?” Berta sighed. “How much crueler would it be to force all our people to be cut from their dragons? To deny our children the joy of taking dragon form? Denying them that part of themselves. Not to mention that they, their parents, their children, would all die horrific, slow deaths. Wasting away in their own beds as their bodies slowly fail.”
“I know what will happen if the king doesn’t pass the crown on.”
Why did it have to be to Polly? Why couldn’t there be a volunteer among the clan to take the curse on themselves? There had been times in the past when there hadn’t been an heir. And the curse had spread to the clan, until someone stepped forward to be king or queen, and took it upon themselves again. Hell, he’d volunteer himself if that was necessary. Maybe then Polly wouldn’t be cut off from her dragon…
But that wasn’t how things were done. A person could not take the mantle of leadership onto themselves when the king had a living heir. It had to be Polly. As much as he hated it, as much as he wished that there was any other way…
“I’ll tell her.”
“Good. Sooner rather than later, Gilbert. We don’t have a lot of time.”
He hung up without another word. The excitement from the positive results now tasted bitter in his mouth. All these years of research, and his work wouldn’t do much good after all. Or maybe it would… perhaps he couldn’t save his king, but maybe he could save his queen. Polly was still young, they’d have several decades before they got to this point with her. There was time, wasn’t there? To save her?
His heart was heavy in his chest as he got up and moved to the window. As he looked out, he saw Polly in the open-air gym that the Freemans had. It had a roof over it to protect the equipment from rain and snow, but otherwise was open. Polly faced off with a punching bag. Even from this distance, he could see her dark skin gleaming under the light.
The punching bag suddenly split open. Its fillings burst out, spraying all over Polly, and she collapsed to her knees. Gilbert’s heart jumped to his throat. He was out of the house before he even had time to put on his shoes. He hopped over the small picket fence that separated his property from the Freeman’s and was at her side in a few seconds.
Polly yelped. She started to pull back from him, but relaxed when she saw who it was. Tears traced down her face, and she hastily wiped them away.
“Are you okay?” Gilbert asked.
Polly ducked her head and nodded. She cradled one hand against her chest. “I just hurt myself when the bag broke. But I’ll be fine.”
“Let me see your hand.”
“No, I’m fine.”
Gilbert held out his hands. Polly chewed her lip for a moment before reluctantly putting her hand in his. He ran his fingers over her knuckles and down her arm, checking for bruises or bones out of place. Even a dragon at full strength wouldn’t have healed from something like that yet. But he found nothing and frowned as he glanced up at Polly. She didn’t meet his eye.
“It doesn’t seem like you’ve been injured.”
Polly shrugged. “It just hurt a lot. Oh my god, this is unbelievable.” She sighed. “It was a brand-new bag. I just bought it. I wanted something to practice my kickboxing on. I’m just frustrated. That damned thing just split open! But I didn’t keep the stupid receipt, so I can’t take it back.”
A brand-new bag split open like that? Gilbert had to smile at that. He put a hand on Polly’s shoulder, and let out a soundless sigh of relief when she leaned into his touch. “You’re very strong to be able to take down a punching bag like that. Have you ever thought about joining the Olympics?”
Dragons weren’t allowed in the Olympics. Or the military. Or a plethora of other things that humans thought would give one side an unfair advantage. Gilbert thought there was some logic in that, but he wished that there could be special Dragon teams put together. Dragon Olympics—that was something he’d pay to see.
Polly giggled at him. It was good to see her laugh. “I’m not that strong. It was just shoddy workmanship. Next time I’ll get a brand name or something. Actually, maybe I’ll see if Shane has a type he likes best, maybe something made for dragons. I can only imagine how quickly this thing would have died if he had tried to punch it.”
Would she even believe him if he told her that she was dragon royalty? Gilbert helped her stand. How was he meant to tell her this? He sighed and shook his head. “Just watch that hand and arm. If you do develop pain in it, let me know.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Gilbert nodded stiffly. He turned and started back to his house. He’d tell her… he just needed to find the right moment.