Chapter 3 THE PAST

EVAN

Cold rain poured down onto my face, stinging my skin.

I opened my eyes, staring up at a black sky filled with thick dark clouds. The smell of wet dirt and crushed pine needles filled my nose.

Before I could even move, I felt a strange warmth on my chest. It was soft and light, pressing against my wet coat.

I looked down. Miss Wells was sprawled directly on top of me. Her face was buried in my neck, her dark hair wet and messy against my collar. Her small fingers were twisted into the cloth of my coat as if she had been holding on for her life.

My heart gave a sudden, ridiculous jump. I was not used to anyone touching me like this, let alone a common shopkeeper in the dirt. But even with mud smeared across her cheek and her clothes soaked through, there was a stubborn set to her jaw that made my blood run hot. She had looked me in the eye back in her shop without a single drop of fear. It irked me. It stung my pride in a way I could not explain.

"Get off me," I grunted.

I shoved her off my chest. She tumbled sideways into the wet mud with a loud splash.

"You absolute brute," she sputtered, pushing herself up on her hands and knees. She wiped wet grit out of her eyes and glared at me. "You dumped me in the dirt."

"You were using me as a cushion," I said, pushing myself up to my feet. Mud clung to my fine boots and trousers, but I brushed at my sleeves, trying to save what was left of my dignity. "And this is your fault. Your stupid silver tools triggered the spell."

"My tools?" She scrambled up, her small hands forming tight fists at her sides. "My tools were doing fine until you burst through my door shouting like a madman. Your dragon magic overloaded the watch. You broke my floor."

"I told you not to touch the casing," I snapped, stepping toward her. "You ignored a direct command from a lord."

"I do not care about your title," she spat right back, her chin high despite the rain pouring over her face. "You brought a broken, dangerous object into my shop. You destroyed my workbench."

I opened my mouth to silence her, but the words died in my throat as I looked past her shoulder.

There was no shop. There was no street. There were no buildings, no carriage, no horses.

We were standing in the middle of a dense dark forest. Tall trees surrounded us on every side, their leaves rustling in the heavy wind.

Miss Wells turned around and saw it too. Her breathing hitched, her eyes turning wide as she took in the empty woods. "Where are we?"

"I do not know," I admitted, my chest tightening. But I forced my voice to stay smooth and controlled. I was a Dragon Lord. I was not going to panic in front of a girl who fixed clocks for a living. I turned my glare back to her. "Where is the watch?"

She froze, her hands darting down to her empty apron. Her head snapped left and right, her eyes frantically scanning the wet grass.

"It was right" She cut herself off, spotting a glint of dark metal half buried in the mud near my boots.

She dropped to her knees, scooping the casing out of the wet dirt. The metal was cool and quiet now, the golden light completely gone. She brushed a layer of wet grit off the face, checking the glass.

Before she could stand back up, I stepped forward and snatched it right out of her fingers. "This stays with me. You have done enough damage."

"Hey," she yelled, scrambling to her feet and reaching for it, but I shoved the watch deep into my own inner coat pocket.

Through the black trunks of the trees, a small yellow light flickered in the distance. The faint sound of loud laughter and clinking mugs drifted through the rain.

"There," I pointed through the trees. "A tavern. We will go inside, get dry, and figure out where your carelessness dropped us."

"My carelessness?" She muttered under her breath, glaring at my back as she fell into step behind me. "You are unbelievable."

"Silence, Miss Wells," I said, keeping my head high as my boots sank into the deep mud.

I was not worried. A tavern meant people. People meant someone would recognize my clothes or my face. Once they knew who stood before them, they would clear a room, bring dry robes, and fetch a carriage to take us back to the capital. Everything would be fine.

We pushed through the brush until we reached a low wooden building with a glowing lantern swinging above the entrance. I shoved the door open and stepped inside.

Heat and the thick smell of roasted meat and cheap ale hit my face. The room was packed and noisy, but it was not just men drinking at the long tables. Small green pixies zipped through the smoky air carrying tiny mugs, while winged fairies hovered near the rafters, laughing over cards. Near the hearth, a pair of broad, fur covered beasts clinked heavy wooden cups together.

I frowned, taking a short step back. Creatures like these were forbidden from entering inner kingdom establishments without a royal permit. We must have dropped into one of those distant outskirt towns where forbidden beasts secretly convened away from royal eyes. It was dirty and lawless, but it did not matter. A tavern was still a tavern.

I walked straight up to the high wooden counter, ignoring the mud dripping off my coat onto the floorboards.

The innkeeper was a thick man with a graying beard, wiping down a mug with a rag. He did not look up when I stopped in front of him.

"I need a room, a hot meal, and dry clothes," I said, my voice carrying the quiet weight of command I used in my own court. "Bring them immediately."

Miss Wells crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing into a sharp glare beside me. "And what about me?"

I cleared my throat, stiffening my back. "Two rooms and two meals."

The innkeeper stopped wiping his mug. He looked up at me, taking in my wet hair and ruined clothes, then snorted. "Got any coin?"

I stared at him, my brow pulling tight. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you have coin," the man said, leaning his heavy forearms on the wood counter. "No coin, no food, no bed. I do not run a charity for wet travelers."

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping low, smooth, and dangerous. "You do not know who I am?"

The man scoffed right in my face. "I do not care if you are the emperor himself, boy. Pay up or get out."

My blood boiled. My jaw set hard. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a heavy gold piece, slapping it down on the counter with enough force to make the wood rattle. "Take it and bring me what I asked for."

While the man reached for the money, I felt a sharp tug on my wet sleeve.

"Lord Draycott, look," Miss Wells whispered, her voice sounding strange and tight.

"Not now," I snapped, angrily yanking my arm out of her grip without looking at her. I was too busy watching the innkeeper's face, waiting for him to see the royal mark on the gold and bow his head.

The innkeeper picked up the gold coin. He held it up to the lantern light, turning it over in his rough fingers. Then he frowned.

He tossed the gold coin right back across the counter. It slid across the wood and hit my chest.

"What is this trash?" the innkeeper demanded. "This money is fake."

My brow pulled tight. "Fake? That is pure gold, stamped by the royal treasury."

"The royal treasury uses the face of our ruler," the innkeeper growled, pointing a thick finger at the coin. "King Alistair is the only face on gold in this kingdom. Who is this stranger stamped on your coin?"

My whole body froze. The air left my lungs in one sudden gasp.

I stared down at the glinting gold piece resting against my damp shirt. Stamped into the metal was the Sun Crest, the emblem that had defined our realm's currency since my own father took the throne, and my own face carved cleanly on the face of the newest minting.

King Alistair?

The Sun Crest had replaced my grandfather's likeness decades ago. Yet this man spoke of King Alistair as if his face were the only valid mark on gold, as if he were sitting on the throne this very second.

"What did you say?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"Are you deaf, boy?" the innkeeper growled, turning away to grab another mug. "Pay with real money or get out of my tavern."

My mind stalled. King Alistair was my grandfather. He had been dead for thirty years.

Beside me, Miss Wells stepped up close. She did not grab my arm this time. Instead, she pointed a shaking finger at a wooden pillar right beside the counter.

Nailed to the wood was a yellow sheet of paper bearing the royal dragon seal of my family. At the bottom of the page, stamped in thick black ink, was the kingdom tax date.

The date was thirty years in the past.

I stood there in the noisy room, completely frozen, unable to pull my eyes away from my grandfather's seal.

Miss Wells leaned in right next to my ear. Her warm breath hit my skin as she whispered softly:

"That is what I have been trying to tell you, but your arrogant ass was not listening."