Saving Cinder Read online

  Saving Cinder

  Hemlock Fairy Tales Book 2

  Maggie Hemlock

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Maggie Hemlock. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

  For the friends who are always there.

  Chapter One

  Cinder

  “Dear Prince Brendan Moonscale-Warren,

  First, allow me to thank you for reading this letter. I understand how unusual it is for a complete stranger’s words to arrive tucked inside a box of chocolates. I hope your family and island kingdom fare well. I understand Moonscale Island is still somewhat of a secret, but as with all Moonscale secrets, most of the flight knows of it. I true-mated into the Moonscale Flight one hundred years ago. A decade ago, my true-mate, Sivan, died during a scrimmage with the elves of the Alps. I understand you may not care for current events or you may not have time to catch up on them all. The Alps have long been a disputed territory. Clarence insists that the treaty of 1999 granting full use to the Moonscale dragons still holds. As you may have gathered, the elves do not.

  I do not write in hopes of military aid. I’ve never raised a claw in battle. I do not care who the Alps rightfully belong to. Such frivolous debates aren’t for omegas desperately trying to escape an unwanted arranged second marriage. I am not without means to support myself. I am not utterly without skills. I am without recourse to escape my parents’ wishes unless I enlist outside aid. It was my sincere intentions to never enter matrimony again. After all, what would be the point? Sivan is gone to the Other World. My heart aches. I once found solace in our shared home, in the memories dancing from room to room, and in the sun shining through the windows we once chose together. I no longer find joy in these things. How can I? The amount of time I spent lost to my memories concerned my parents greatly. The lack of a grandchild also annoys them to no end. Sivan and I wanted to see the world before we had eggs of our own. He was not a soldier killed in the Alps. We were on vacation and caught in the crossfires. I’ll spare us both the details of the attack and leave it at that.

  I know citizenship of your island is not yet or may never be open to the public, but Moonscale Island may very well be my last chance to escape this marriage. The Alpha is not unkind. He is average in every way from looks to demeanor. He’s yet to meet his true-mate. I wish that he would and forget me. I fear that if I do not flee beyond the reach of my parents and the laws of Clarence Moonscale our fates are sealed to the worst outcome. I do not love him. I cannot love him. All I can imagine when I look at this young dragon, barely in his thirties, is his true-mate praying to Juda to deliver him safely into their arms. I cannot disrupt that which fate has intended. It is not the way of dragons nor my heart.

  I kindly ask for the sake of all parties involved that you allow me safe passage from my home in Cornwall, England to your home island of Moonscale. I know I ask for much, because testing the iron will of Clarence Moonscale, if my parents beg his aid, will not be easy. I understand that the island isn’t under his jurisdiction, but yours. One would hope he would respect such matters, but as he has proven himself to be a hard-headed cave-Alpha (as is my own father) it may not be so.

  I eagerly await your reply. If you are unable to help me, I understand and wish you and yours the best.

  Hopefully yours,

  Cinder Aldred-Moonscale

  P.S. Yes, I was named for the general who led the dragons to defeat the elves in the Alps in the late 1970s. Please do not hold my namesake against me. It was the fancy of my parents, not of myself.”

  I tucked the letter under the last layer of a box of dark chocolates. Juda smiled upon me two days ago when the prince’s mate, Rhett, ordered chocolates from my parents’ business.

  “They’ll toss the letter out with the box. Who removes the last layer from a box when there are no treats left underneath?” My dragon asked.

  Sighing, I stared at the layer of chocolates. He was right, but all hope wasn’t lost. I’d keep the faith until I said I do to the man-hatchling my parents found for me to marry. I’d cut out my own tongue before I uttered those words. My parents were secular dragons and chosen mates from an arranged marriage. Despite their success in the chocolate business, I pitied them. They never knew what I and Sivan knew. Love is love, but the true-mate connection cannot be faked or replicated by any other means. Despite my upbringing I believed in the ancestors and lore of the Moonscale-Hemlocks. I believed in the first true-mates, because I experienced their last magic firsthand when I met Sivan. I didn’t survive the attack, his funeral, and the loneliness to be a hitch in someone else’s destiny.

  I’ll just tape a chocolate bar to the bottom of the layer. One with the bright pink wrapper. That way he’ll see it and look. If anyone here checks it’ll merely look as if I’m being kind to the prince. They’ll make that allowance for me. I am still a Moonscale after all. That flight link is one piece of my true-mate my parents can’t strip from me.

  “Too bad we can’t shrink down and hide with the chocolates, because that’s the only way we’re getting out of here.” He rolled his eyes and snorted a puff of smoke.

  No, it’s not. Fate is on our side. Juda and Frost would never rob someone of their true-mate.

  “Then why did Sivan, die?”

  Because elves and dragons never learned to play nice and share with others.

  “Touché.”

  “Cinder, is that order ready yet? The drone’s set to go out in fifteen minutes, son!” Father called from the top of the stairs.

  “Why can’t we just ask Prince Brendan over the flight link?”

  What if someone hears and tells Father? We’ll never escape then.

  “Cinder?” Father growled.

  Impatience tinged his scent and tickled my nose.

  “Just double checking the chocolates. I only want to send our best to the recently woken Moonscale Prince.”

  “Sheesh. Moonscale Prince. Lot of good the Moonscales did you when your mate died. Sure, money is nice, but what about an heir? They should have been the ones to find you a new husband.”

  I’ve never had a husband. I had a mate. Sure, we had the Moonscale ceremony, but Sivan was my true-mate not my husband.

  “I did want an egg, though.” My dragon sighed.

  I know, lovey. I did too. Maybe we’ll adopt when we move to the island. Maybe once our parents move on, we’ll fly to the states. They have that new fertility clinic.

  “Eeeeeeewwww! I don’t want jizz in a jar.”

  I don’t think they keep sperm in jars.

  “I don’t care. I don’t want the body fluids of a strange Alpha shoved up my omegahole.”

  “Cinder? How are those chocolates coming along?” Father asked again.

  His irritated scent wafted down the steps. I cringed trying to ignore my omega urge to rush along whatever he wanted. I was a winged beast of the sky not a cowering mouse.

  “Putting the lid on the box now.” I sighed and tucked it and my hopes under my arm.

  Juda and Frost, if you can hear me, please let my letter find its way to the prince.

  Chapter Two

  Seth

  “The last box is on the truck,” Carter, the beta dragon, who ran Degray’s Moving Company saluted me. I nodded and held back a laugh. Carter was a good guy. He went above and beyond for his clients. The salute was the third of the evening. Each one funnier than the last. The crews on my boats didn’t even salute me. I’d never been the ‘O’ Captain, my Captain’ sort. Not that I had crews any
more. I let them all go with the option of buying one of the boats we used in the fishing operation. My days of harvesting the seas for hungry dragons were done.

  “No more nets or harpoons for us,” my wolf stretched out along my stomach. “Only fishing poles and bare paws.”

  Carter looked down at his feet waiting for further instruction. He shifted his weight subtly from to foot to foot like a kid waiting to get out of the corner. A lot of Alphas treated betas like crap, but I found them to be the hardest workers on the boats. Carter ate a lot of crow from the Alpha dragons who hired his company to transport belongings between their summer and winter homes. He wasn’t driving my stuff far. Only to the coast. Then we’d load the boxes and crates on my boat, and I’d leave on the last leg of my move to Moonscale Island.

  “Thanks, Carter,” I clapped him on the shoulder. “No rush. As long as I’m on the open seas by sunrise I’ll be a happy wolf.”

  “The sun hasn’t set yet and it’s only a two-hour drive,” he laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not that shitty at my job.”

  “Exactly. I have a stop to make before I head out that way. I’m picking up a gift for Stacey and Elwin.”

  “Your niece and nephew?” Carter asked.

  “The two and only.” I laughed. “Well, maybe. Who knows by now? It’s been six months since I saw Rhett. For all I know he’s knocked that poor dragon up again.”

  “Dragon births are rare,” Carter said. “Beta dragon births even more so.”

  “Wolf births are as common as barnacles on a boat. Why don’t you retire to Moonscale Island and forget those blowhards?” I clapped him on the shoulder again.

  Dragons communicated with body language more than touch, but the wolf in me needed the dragon in him to stop worrying that if he fucked up the job, I wouldn’t pay him. Short of driving my stuff into the sea or setting the truck on fire there weren’t many ways for him to fuck up my plans. Rhett and Brendan expected me by the end of the week. Since it was Monday that left six days for me to arrive.

  I’d known Carter for years now since he joined my addiction recovery support group. The statistics on addiction stated betas were more likely to fall prey to substance abuse and the group proved it. In any given group, most were betas, with a couple of Alphas and usually one omega sprinkled in for variety. Some purists said it was because they lacked true-mates. That was bullshit. Society treated them as lesser than and pushed them out of the inner circle. It wasn’t an excuse. After a handful of groups, I accepted there’s never an excuse. Still living in a world stacked against you didn’t help keep anyone on the straight and narrow.

  “Maybe in a few centuries I’ll have the cash to afford to live on the streets there.” Carter laughed nervously.

  “I’ll put in a good word for you. My brother’s king after all,” I rolled my eyes. “If nothing else you can crash on my couch.”

  It was hard to imagine my brother, who spent most of his adult life digging around in the dirt, ruling over anything bigger than a dig site full of haughty academy students hoping to make a name for themselves.

  “Do they have meetings there?” Carter arched a brow.

  “Not sure.” I shrugged.

  I hadn’t thought about the prospects of recovered addicts on Moonscale Island. I spent months at sea without attending the bleeding-heart meetings, but other guys, like Carter, relied on them. They were lifelines for the lifers. Some of the guys had a harder time than me. After my first detox I only relapsed once after finding a sweater Stacy knitted for me in the back of the closet. It was a birthday gift she didn’t live long enough to give to me. Now, I took that stupid green and yellow striped sweater everywhere as a reminder of why I didn’t need to fuck up my life again. At one point in time there was a woman who cared enough about me to knit it and Stacy wasn’t a knitter. She was a storm chaser. The thought of her knitting that damn thing made me laugh.

  “That could be a problem.” He laughed nervously.

  “You could start them up.”

  “Nah. I’m not a leader.”

  “You run the only moving company most of these damn dragons will hire. You’re a leader of industry. You could run the group there.” I laughed.

  “Where are you really stopping?” Carter asked.

  He meant ‘you aren’t on the verge of relapse and plan to stop for a fix on your way, are you?’ I let out a long deep breath. I wanted nothing more than for everyone to forget that chapter of my history. Grief drove me to the brink of insanity. It helped me do crazy things like see Stacy every time I was hyped up out of my gourd and chasing down a storm.

  “To buy a dog. I can’t believe Rhett hasn’t gotten those kids a dog yet. Every kid needs a dog.”

  “Isn’t that ironic?” Carter laughed.

  “Huh?”

  “A wolf buying a dog. You’d think it broke some ancient vow or something.”

  “I’m saving the dog from living out the rest of its days in a mangy shelter.”

  “Didn’t think of it that way.” Carter shrugged.

  “You go on ahead. I’ll meet you there. If you get there before me, you can grab something to eat from the boat if you want.”

  “Thanks, man,” Carter smiled finally relaxing.

  “Just because I’m paying you to do this doesn’t mean you have to treat me like one of those dragons. I’m the same asshole in real life I am at the meetings. No need to give me special treatment.”

  “Whatever you say.” Carter climbed into his truck.

  For the last year, I lived in my parents’ home when I wasn’t at sea. Giving up the apartment I shared with Stacy wasn’t easy, but at the end of the day it was the best thing to do. We made most of our memories on the open sea anyway. Those that were tangible were packed in Carter’s truck headed to the sea. Except for the sweater. It was in the rental car that Carter would return after I shipped off.

  Living on an island with my brother wasn’t my idea of a good time, but it was a fresh start. Few people lived there. Outside of Brendan and Rhett no one on Moonscale Island knew my past. I could finally lay that decade following Stacy’s death to rest and live a life where I wasn’t asked if I was relapsing because I wanted to buy a kid a dog.

  “Good thing Carter turned down the invitation, then, huh?” My wolf yawned.

  I only said that to be nice.

  “You’re no good at being an asshole. You’re losing your edge.”

  Fuck off.

  “Maybe later. I’m not up for it right now.”

  Chapter Three

  Cinder

  Sugar, cocoa powder, and melted chocolate covered the kitchen floor. The hardened chocolate was the worst part of my duties. It stuck to the nooks and crannies of the tiles in little places where dragon fire couldn’t reach to melt it away. Even if my fire could reach the chocolate it wouldn’t do much. The secret family recipe survived long trips in the sun without melting. It withstood everything except the mouths of those who enjoyed the delicacy.

  “Chocolate should melt against the tongue not in the box,” my carrier often tutted his tongue when quality testing.

  New employees didn’t last long around Aldred’s Chocolate Delicacies. Most of them couldn’t live up to the impossible expectations of my parents. This afternoon, Father fired a box boy who stacked the boxes lopsided. I had to hand it to him though, he lasted all of four hours, before they tossed him out on his tail.

  It was a quarter till midnight. I needed to be up by six to meet with the wedding florist. Still, I couldn’t leave the floors covered in food for rodents and other pests to find. Cleaning up after a long day of chocolate making had been my duty as a child. Every evening when the others left, I carefully cleaned up each spill and spot. Then I polished the floor until it shined. After, Sivan died, my parents insisted I work with them again. Each morning, I started the machines, heated the ovens, and double checked the temperatures of the storage areas. Throughout the day I boxed the chocolates and ensured they made it onto
the delivery drones. Then in the evening I scrubbed and polished the floor of the industrial sized kitchen.

  “Not again,” my dragon sighed.

  Always again. Every day until the end of time. There’s no use in putting it off.

  “Let’s go on strike.”

  Let’s hope the prince reads our letter soon or this will be our life for the rest of all time. Except they’ll expect us to go upstairs to a strange man and sleep next to him.

  “Let’s play Romeo and Juliet.”

  Shush. None of that talk. If they hear you, they’ll move up the wedding. Besides, do you really want to die?

  “No,” he sighed. “If I said it loudly enough do you think they’d take us to the hospital for evaluation? I’m sure I could fake crazy for a long time if it meant not walking down the aisle.”

  He rambled on while I used a putty knife to scrape bits and spills of hardened chocolate off the white tiles. I tried to imagine a tropical breeze ruffling my hair while I drank something fruity with one of those little umbrellas but couldn’t conjure the image. Sivan took me to the Bahamas, but I couldn’t imagine island life without him. Though, if fate was on my side, I wouldn’t have to imagine it. I’d live it soon enough.

  “Hope is a dangerous thing.” My dragon reminded me.

  Hope was the sole weapon left to me beyond burning down the whole house including the chocolate making section. Perhaps, Reggie wouldn’t want to marry me if there was no promise of the chocolate business to inherit. Then he could sit on his haunches and wait on his true-mate. That was the proper thing to do anyway. Who would want to settle for anything less?

  “What of Sivan’s money? Even if the business was gone that would be there.”

  They don’t know about that account. That’s our backup in case we have to fake our death and live on the run.

  “That’s an option?”

  More of a last resort.