by Alisa Woods
Nyssa held up a hand, and with a slight tremor of her fingers, a tiny bronze dragon appeared in her palm. She held it out to Lucian, and he cautiously stepped forward to take the gift from her. His heart hammered. Gifts from fae—not something he actually wanted to keep inside his home, much less close to his child.
“Thank you.” He stepped back.
Leonidas was scowling at the tiny dragon, but holding his tongue—Leonidas himself was a bronze dragon. Was there some kind of significance to that? But it wasn’t his place to say anything. As the crown prince, Lucian spoke for the House, but he wasn’t sure what he could say that would be of help in the situation.
“It is merely a dragon,” Nyssa said with the faint trace of a smile—one that actually enhanced her beauty even more and somehow softened it. “Although it possesses the ability to soothe a child. We so rarely have children at Court, I am not familiar with how they behave. But I hear that children cry. Inexplicably. The token should alleviate that.”
“A thoughtful gift, indeed.” Lucian made a mental note to dispose of it as quickly as possible.
Nyssa tipped her head as if it were a genuine compliment. Then she turned, a graceful pirouette that preceded her slow glide back toward the door. But she only went two steps before stopping and throwing a glance back over her shoulder. “Cousin, take care. There is more to this birth than you know. The immortal world is watching.”
Lucian scowled and opened his mouth to ask what the hell she meant by that, but she turned her back on him and slowly strode down the throne room. He decided to let it go.
When she reached the doorway, she made her own exit. With the wards temporarily down, she was able to use a fae doorway to her realm, where in the Summer and Winter Courts existed. The doorway was literally a rip in the fabric of space and time that she simply glided through with her silver-white hair and flowing dress.
As soon as she was gone, Leonidas spoke up. “You’re absolutely forbidden from letting that dragon anywhere near my nephew.”
“Agreed,” Leksander said, coming up to stand next to Leonidas and Lucian at the front of the throne room. “I do not wish to guess what manner of spell she has put on this token.”
Lucian nodded and handed it over to Leksander. “Maybe your angelfire girl can find a good way to dispose of it. One that won’t have the magic backlashing on us.”
He agreed with a sharp nod, but the dark look that had temporarily lifted from Leksander’s face settled on it again.
Leonidas scowled. “What did Nyssa mean by there being more to the birth than we know? I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Neither do I.” Lucian grimaced, but he’d had enough of the immortal world for the day. All he wanted was to get back to Arabella and his son and reassure himself that they were both still all right.
He raised his hands to the gathered dragons from his House, all getting a bit restless after the fae queen had made her exit. “You’ve all been extraordinarily patient throughout this time of formalities.” His voice carried and quieted the crowd. “I appreciate your fealty even more now than ever. But I believe we’re done dealing with royal matters now.” He threw a smile back to his mother and father. His mother was beaming at him, but his father looked like he had just been startled awake. Lucian held in his laugh and turned back to the House. “I think we could all use a rest.”
A twitter of laughter went through the crowd. The House had great affection for King Larik, but they knew he was nearing the end of his thousand years. And there was a bittersweetness that the arrival of his son would mean that his father and mother were probably in the final year of their lives. The House knew it as well. They were gentle with his mother and father in all things, another thing that earned his love for his fellow dragons. “Be well, my friends. The next time you see me, I hope to have a dragonling in my arms.”
A roar of approval went up, and applause broke out with some whooping and hollering. It brought a broad smile to Lucian’s face, and Leonidas clapped a hand on his shoulder, smiling wide as well. Lucian turned and hugged his brother, fiercely. Not only would he lose his mother and father in the next year, but his unmated brothers would likely go to wyvern as well. He was gaining everything—a mate and a child—and losing everything at the same time. The fatigue of the proceedings and the bitter sweetness of it washed over him.
Definitely time to get back to his lair—and rejuvenate in love again.
Dragons were drifting throughout the hall, muttering and laughing and chattering up a storm. Above all the noise, Lucian heard one word jump out and stab into him.
“What?” It was Leksander shouting his disbelief into his phone. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Lucian flicked a look to Leonidas, and they both strode quickly over to where Leksander stood off to the side of the thrones.
“What is it?” Lucian asked.
“Get up here immediately,” Leksander growled into the phone. Then he slapped it off and gritted his teeth. “Tytus is here from the House of Drakkon.”
“You mean here at the perimeter station,” Lucian said, his heart squeezing. The black dragon had already kidnapped his mate once—Lucian sure as hell wasn’t going to give him another chance.
“I mean here at the keep,” Leksander spat.
“What the fuck, Leksander?” Leonidas bit out.
“I know,” Leksander said. “Somehow, the wards were still left down from when Nyssa was leaving. They were expecting her, but Tytus arrived instead.”
“So, he just skips through the perimeter, and now he’s knocking at our door?” Lucian’s rage was reaching a boiling point.
“He’s on his way to the throne room.” Leksander held up his hands. “I’ve got a guard on him. He’s alone. He’s not a danger, Lucian.”
“The hell he’s not,” Lucian said, dashing a look to the throne room door.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Leonidas asked, the horror on his face matching Lucian’s.
Leksander jerked his chin toward the door to the throne room. “Ask him yourself.” The door had been left open by the fae queen’s departure, and already Tytus was strolling through it, the dark smirk on his face making Lucian’s skin crawl.
“I vowed to kill that dragon if I ever saw him again,” Lucian said, but Leksander’s hand was on his shoulder, holding him back.
“Maybe he’s here to make amends,” Leksander whispered hoarsely. “You’re about to renew the treaty, Lucian. Let him give his gift and be on his way. You don’t need a House war on the eve of the birth of your child.”
Lucian growled, but Leksander was right.
Dragon heads were whipping to follow Tytus’s quick-strided march down the throne room. Several half-shifted like they wanted to go after him, held back only by the fact that Lucian himself was unmoving, awaiting Tytus’s approach. All eyes were on the two of them, watching to see who would make the first move. Lucian could take Tytus in a fight, easily and by himself—his fae magic would overpower a mere black dragon. And with his House surrounding Tytus, there was hardly any threat to letting the man have his ugly say, whatever it was.
Lucian made no promises about accepting any actual gifts.
Tytus smiled wide as if they were old friends. “Lucian Smoke of the House of Smoke. So I hear you’re going to be a daddy.” The smirk on his face was so irritating, Lucian couldn’t help the growl that worked its way out of his chest.
“Whatever you have to say, Tytus, get it over with. And get the hell out of my House.”
Tytus nodded and looked around casually. “So this is what the House of Smoke looks like on the inside. A little ostentatious, if you ask me.”
“Precisely no one is asking you,” Lucian spat.
Tytus dipped his head in deference and spread his arms wide with a slight bow. “Of course. The last time we met was under rather… extreme circumstances.”
“The last time we met, you kidnapped my mate and gave her to the fae.” Just saying the words wa
s making Lucian’s runes writhe and twitch to lash out their magic at him. “If you think I’m going to forgive that—”
Tytus give an elaborate shrug. “That’s just the problem, don’t you see? I shouldn’t need your forgiveness for taking something so easily snatched.”
Lucian surged forward, but Leksander’s grip on his shoulder held him back.
Leonidas stepped in front of Lucian. “Do you have a death wish, dragon?” he asked of Tytus. “Because there are plenty of dragons in this room who would be happy to grant it.”
But Tytus just smirked. “The House of Smoke is filled with bravery when they outnumber you a hundred to one. But that only covers up the weak-willed nature of their chosen leaders. The princes of the House of Smoke have fae blood in their veins…” His face twisted with a look of disgust. “Without that and the protection of the treaty, you’d all be powerless against the combined forces of the rest of the dragon Houses. If you think I don’t speak the truth about this, you know not what is happening in your own realm.”
Leonidas frowned and flicked a look to Lucian. The same doubt was turning through Lucian’s mind—what the hell was Tytus talking about?
The black dragon spread his arms wide and grinned. “And now the high and mighty prince has finally spawned a dragonling. Just days away now, so I hear. Which is really unfortunate, because it is long past the time that the treaty should have been broken.”
Lucian narrowed his eyes. “Zephan sent you here, didn’t he?”
“I don’t need a fae to tell me what needs to be done.” Tytus’s eyes glittered dark. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes to see.”
Leonidas gave Lucian another concerned look. Leksander’s grip on his shoulder released as his phone chirped at him. He pressed it to his ear and frowned.
Lucian turned back to Tytus. “The treaty will be renewed,” he ground out. “You can take your madness and pedal it elsewhere. Get out of my House. Now.”
Tytus held his hands up in surrender. “There’s just one thing,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not the one who needs to leave.”
What? Just as Lucian was coming to the conclusion that Tytus had lost his mind, and Lucian might have to actually kill him—
“What the hell—” Leksander’s face held an ocean of shock.
A spear of panic shot through Lucian’s chest.
Leksander’s eyes flew wide. “There’s been a breach—” The rest was drowned out by a sudden roar from the back of the throne room. To Lucian’s disbelieving eyes, a horde of men in paramilitary garb—black body armor and masks and long barreled guns—streamed into the room, firing and trampling over the dragons closest to the door. Leonidas and Leksander and Lucian all shifted simultaneously. Leksander fell back to protect the king and queen, while Leonidas and Lucian surged forward. Tytus shifted and met Leonidas’s charge talons-first. They grappled and fell to the ground. The throne room was in chaos—half had shifted to dragon form, the other half still in shock. But the black-armored men were mowing them down…
Something that shouldn’t be possible.
Mere bullets couldn’t stop a dragon. Lucian reached out with his fae senses as he surged forward through the crowd trying to reach the assault force…
They were all demons.
Holy fuck. Lucian’s mind reeled—demon-possessed humans with military training. But conventional weapons still should have no effect against dragons. Yet Lucian watched in horror as one after another of the House of Smoke fell from the long-barreled guns aimed at them.
Lucian turned back to help Leonidas take down Tytus—cut off the head of the serpent, because Lucian was certain this was his doing—but to his horror, he found Tytus standing triumphant over Leonidas who was thrashing, eyes closed, on the floor. Tytus raised a fistful of talons to swipe down and cut off Leonidas’s head. Lucian roared and surged forward, smacking into Tytus before he could end his brother’s life. As he grappled with Tytus himself, confusion still rattled Lucian’s brain—how could Tytus, a mere black dragon, take down Leonidas, a dragon with fae powers?
The answer came with a small stabbing pain in his side as Tytus punched something into him. A wave of sickness washed over Lucian, and his grip loosened on the black dragon. Something rushed Lucian’s brain and made him dizzy. Tytus shoved him off, and Lucian couldn’t even stay upright, tumbling back to the floor. There was a darkness crawling through his body. Tytus stood over him, holding a small pistol and laughing. The pistol had an unusually large barrel. When Lucian looked down at his side, he saw the dart sticking out. He plucked it and threw it away, but whatever it had injected into him had already found its target.
Poison. He didn’t know what kind exactly, except that it was wrapping black tendrils around his heart and squeezing.
Chaos was still reigning behind Tytus, but it was clear that the black-armored military force he had commanded for the assault was winning.
Tytus held up the hand without the pistol. Through blurry vision, Lucian could tell that one of his talons was missing. “I had to make a small sacrifice for the darts, but seeing you writhe on the floor, Lucian Smoke, makes it all worthwhile.” He raised his pistol and shot three more times behind Lucian. He heard the bodies fall, and he knew who they had to be—the king, the queen, and Leksander.
Tytus was killing all of them.
And once Lucian was dead… Tytus would go after Arabella and the baby.
That surged up a guttural roar inside Lucian that summoned every drop of fae magic he had in his blood. “No!” But it came out as a hoarse gasp. He closed his eyes to focus every healing spell he knew—every bit of magic he could conjure to fight this poison that was worming through his system.
Tytus’s voice came closer. Lucian forced open his eyes. Tytus was down on one knee, peering at him and smirking. “I almost wish you would live long enough to see me take your mate.”
Lucian wanted to rip out his throat, but he was still battling the poison, and it was seizing up his muscles, paralyzing him. All that could escape was a growl.
“Oh yes, I’ll definitely enjoy her before I kill her. The dragonling of course will die. Then the Winter Court will give me dominion over the demons.”
Lucian’s breathing was becoming labored, but he focused hard on pushing the poison away from his brain—if he lost control there, he was done for. He made a tiny amount of headway, then a little more, and then the feeling started to come back into his arms. He feigned paralysis for a little longer, just a moment more, and then he would catch this bastard by surprise and cut off Tytus’s head.
He kept talking. “You see, I’ve discovered their little loophole. For a people who cannot lie, the fae sure like their secrets. And they’re surprisingly willing to negotiate when you have something over them. Like demons who are created, not conjured. But there’s this little side effect. Demons who are fully human. And you know what doesn’t work against humans? Magical wards.” The smirk on his face was the smile of an idiot pleased with his one bit of treasure. The one piece of information that gave him power.
Lucian had never loathed Tytus more in his entire life.
“And now it’s time for you to die, prince of the House of Smoke.” Tytus raised a talon-filled hand.
Lucian couldn’t wait for the poison to be gone. He lashed out with what strength he had, managing to bat away Tytus’s talons and roll away from his deadly strike. A roar came from behind him, and suddenly Leonidas was on Tytus’s back. The two took to wing and twirled through the throne room air, fighting and snarling and lashing. One of the humans took aim with his long-barreled dart gun and shot Leonidas. He growled his frustration, but the second dose of poison took him down hard. He dropped out of the air, and Tytus flapped away, retreating. Leksander somehow arose from the floor and was after him next, with Lucian close behind.
The tide was turning. His fellow dragons had finally realized what was happening and fashioned a defense against it. They had formed a battering ram out of their p
oisoned comrades, lifting the fallen dragon bodies and using them to smash the whole herd of human attackers into uselessness, guns knocked from their hands. Disarmed, they had no chance against the dragons. Leksander caught hold of Tytus’s tail and whipped him back into Lucian’s waiting talons. He grabbed hold of Tytus, but the weakness of the poison was still running through Lucian’s system. He lost his grip, and Tytus twirled and took to wing again. He screeched some kind of sounding call, then soared to the top of the throne room, brushing his wings against the ceiling and then diving hard for the door.
He was making a run for it.
“I’ve got him!” Leksander shouted. “Go after your mate.” His brother didn’t wait for a reply, he just turned and flew over the hordes of demon-possessed humans to go after Tytus.
Lucian glanced back at Leonidas sprawled out and writhing on the floor again. His mother and father were slumped in their thrones, not moving.
Fear seized his heart and battled with grief, but he had no time—he had to reach Arabella and the baby before Tytus’s demon forces did.
“I can’t believe you’re putting a sword up in a baby’s room,” Rachel complained for the third time. Her hands were parked on her hips, and her sigh was very audible.
All the gifts had been sorted and stacked in neat piles. One pile of gifts they would have to somehow regift or pack away because they were slightly disturbing—like the dragon eye carved out of glittering stone and mounted on a rock. Just creepy. One pile was things that were outright dangerous, like the sprig of green leaves and white flowers that smelled like raspberries. She didn’t know much about babies, but leaving around magical herbs was probably not on the Smart Parenting list. And then there was the pile of things that were awesome, but she had no idea what to do with until the baby was older, like the Dragon Tales book that was written entirely in dragontongue. At least, she assumed it was dragontongue. They were symbols she couldn’t read, but she assumed Lucian could read it to her when he was done with his official duties.