Page 4 of Jon’s Desert Prince Dream

“Then you’re quite powerful indeed.” Prince Donovan nodded once, as if agreeing with some internal judgment. “We must find an anchor for you. I hope I’m a contender, at least.”

The last statement made absolutely no sense. “I’m sorry, a what?”

He nudged me into motion again, taking a right and heading farther into the palace. “You do not know what an anchor is?”

“I’ve never heard the term.”

“An anchor is one who bonds with a psychic. The anchor’s entire purpose is to support, love, and protect the psychic. It’s an incredible honor to be chosen, and there’s some stiff competition. I imagine with your eyes, it won’t take you five minutes to find the right person.”

He was right, it wouldn’t, but the idea of someone choosing to be my anchor was…nonsensical? I’d been shunned my entire life. No one would choose to be with me, surely.

But he sounded so confident about it, I didn’t know how to start the argument. Instead I said, “You are a contender? In other words, you want to be my anchor?”

He stopped again, turning to face me, his hand coming up to cradle my jaw. I instinctively turned into his touch, unable to help myself. The prince felt good to my psychic senses. Relaxing, in a way, and closing my eyes helped me appreciate just how lovely his aura was. It was like soaking in a hot bath.

Wait, wait, stop indulging and focus! You’re supposed to be arguing right now, me!

I pried eyes open by force and glanced up at him. He watched me with open hunger in his gaze and it sent a shiver up my spine. A warm, tingly shiver, because gods above, I’d never had a man look at me so, and it was intoxicating.

His thumb caressed my bottom lip lightly, and my breath caught. Why, why, why did this man’s every touch send me into this almost-intoxicated state?

“I would love to be your anchor,” Prince Donovan whispered to me, the words throaty and low. “I can tell you like me. You trust me already, don’t you?”

I nodded shallowly.

“And you desire me as well. I cannot read people like you do, but I’m not wrong on that.”

He wasn’t. On the other hand, should I? Could I? I was a mortician’s son, he was a prince; surely there’d be backlash!

“What holds you back?” he murmured, even as he shifted in closer. “Do you need more time to think it over?”

“Rather, why do you think this is a good idea?” I countered. Oh phew, some part of my brain still worked and produced words. Good brain, good brain. “You’re a prince; surely you can’t choose me.”

He chuckled softly. “I assure you, the rules of my country are vastly different from yours. We do not care for bloodlines. I am a prince because I have earned that title. I defeated the dragon terrorizing my people’s farmlands, and for that, I have earned my place in the royal family.”

Oh? Wait, what did he mean by earning princehood? “I’d love to hear that story.”

“I’ll tell it to you. First, however, we should go to my rooms. I want your throat looked at, and I’m sure you want out of these clothes. You look uncomfortable.”

I was, incredibly so. While they were clean, they were too hot for this desert land. “I’d be grateful for new clothes.”

“Then come.”

This time, he set a hand at the base of my spine and led me forward. I leaned into the pressure of his hand a little, and studied him. He was so incredibly confident about being able to choose me. But his eyes were not like mine, so how could he know he’d made the right choice?

“We have multiple clans,” Donovan said as we walked. “Eight, in fact, and every generation, the clans have the option of letting their children perform some heroic feat. Those who succeed earn a place in the government and they lead until the next generation performs a feat. The older generation becomes advisers, the newer one steps up and leads. I’m in the process of learning how to lead, and should take my proper place at the advent of the new year.”

“So, because you weren’t born a prince, you don’t think of yourself as above me?”

“Correct. You can read that?”

“I can, but your explanation made sense of what I saw.” He was an incredibly down-to-earth man. Now I understood why. “Wait, is that how your king is appointed, too?”

“It is. No one family rules consistently from generation to generation. We work off merit, not bloodline.”

And I’d bet they were far better rulers because of it. They still had their feet anchored in the real world, not one made of luxury and vanity.

“Then are you a candidate for being the next king?”