Free Wyvern's Prince (The Dragons of Incendium Book 2) by Deborah Cooke Page B

control. Her dragon powers would have given her the ability to escape, so had to be undermined. Was her power gone forever? Gemma didn’t want to think about that possibility, but it was worth consideration. She doubted that Urbanus wanted her to regain the ability to shift shape any time soon, if ever.
    The toad had mentioned an antidote, which implied that the spell would hold unless she found the antidote. How would she find it without the toad’s help? She didn’t know nearly enough about either spells or Regalia. Her assumption that she wouldn’t be on the planet long now seemed foolish.
    She didn’t blame the toad for expecting better of her.
    Arista would have expected better of her, too. She’d let her confidence keep her from making contingency plans, and now she was in a predicament with no way to let anyone know. All her comm, even her interpreter, had been stripped away after the wedding ceremony. Urbanus had charmed her mother when he’d called them distractions to romance. Gemma had ceded, sure that she could triumph without them.
    She was annoyed by her own gullibility. The truth was that she’d underestimated Urbanus, and that he’d used that to his strategic advantage.
    She had to turn the tables on him and escape.
    Without the toad’s help.
    Did all the toads on Regalia talk? Gemma thought not. Her toad had said it was enchanted. Who was it really? Had it been cursed by Urbanus, too?
    Maybe she should have kissed it.
    * * *
    What Gemma didn’t realize was that when she considered kissing the toad, she had touched him on his parietal eye, the mystic third eye also known as the pineal gland. It was in the middle of his forehead, marked by a white spot. Toads saw the world differently from men, but the fact that this toad was actually a man, and one from a family of sorcerers, meant that his parietal eye was particularly well developed.
    The touch of Gemma’s fingertip restored Venero’s ability to send dreams.
    As soon as Venero realized as much, he wanted to do more than kiss Gemma.
    He realized it by chance, when a hawk swooped down toward him as soon as he reached the bank of the river. On impulse, Venero sent a dream to the hawk of a full belly. The hawk swooped down and scooped him up, and Venero feared that nothing had changed. But the hawk flew and flew, carrying him like a treasure, and he dared to believe again. He sent the hawk a dream of flying toward Celo’s hut and dropping him there.
    It worked.
    Venero could have shouted with glee. Gemma had helped him regain his DreamCasting powers, which might mean that she could break the spell completely.
    Maybe he’d misunderstood the notion of true love.
    Maybe it was about admiration and respect.
    Either way, his restored abilities saved him a lot of hopping, even if he was a bit bruised from the drop.
    Venero had forgotten how good it felt to have some control over his own fate, never mind how easy it was to turn the thoughts of wild creatures to his will. He’d first used his skill with woodland creatures, then after practice, had turned to humans. His siblings were another level of challenge altogether.
    Venero hoped his youngest brother would be of aid, although influencing Celo would be a greater challenge than tricking a hawk or a cervus.
    * * *
    Celo was exactly where Venero had expected him to be. He was outside his little hut in the depths of the forest, chopping wood.
    Venero’s youngest brother didn’t look much like a prince of the royal blood of Regalia. His hair was longer and his beard was almost to his waist. He was more muscular than Venero recalled, but he’d have to be working hard to survive in the old forest. That told Venero how determined Celo was to never go back to the palace.
    Not that Venero could blame him.
    Celo’s axe fell with regular rhythm. Venero was exhausted but he hopped the last distance and leaped onto the woodpile.
    “Well met, brother mine,” he said, and Celo started.
    He stared, then buried