by Ava Sinclair
“Negotiate?” Lord Udra is incredulous. “We are their rulers!”
“We are.” King Vukurcis fixes Lord Udra with a steely gaze. “And as rulers, we should recognize when to sacrifice pride for the greater good. We will need more than the villagers’ obedience. We will need their patience during a winter that promises hunger and war.
“The king is right. We must regain the villagers’ trust.” The strong voice of another lord rises above the assembly. “Will moving a portion of the food stores to the villagers’ storehouse put it at risk should the ShadowFell attack the Empire? The food in the castle storehouses is hidden and guarded.”
“And so it will be in the villages.” King Vukurcis lifts a hand. “Where are the Lords of Kri’byl?
From across the aisle, five lords stand and move to approach the throne. The first two are identical in appearance. Tyri and Yrko of Kri’byl are twins, a rarity in the Drakoryan Empire. They are both fierce warriors, with short-cropped hair and close-cropped beards. They share the same muscular build, and the same moon-shaped birthmark. On Lord Tyri, who was born first, the mark is on the left side of his chest. On Lord Yrko, on the right.
They are trailed by their three other brothers— Erdorin, Gryvrig, and Jareo. Beardless Erdorin wears his wavy hair at shoulder length. Gryvrig, with his russet hair and beard, stands out from his dark-haired brothers. Jareo wears his long hair in a single braid, and while he is beardless, a shadow of stubble gives his face a menacing appearance.
“Lords of Kri’byl.” King Vukurcis leans forward. “You are tasked by your king with patrolling and protecting the village food stores. The villagers will see that we are as committed to the interests of all. You will be my ambassadors, ensuring villagers’ loyalty to the empire while being the extension of my authority. You will keep the peace.” He pauses. “You will do this by any means, but force will be the last resort.”
“Lord Jayx of House Za’vol and Lord Tythos of House Fra’hir…you will take your best soldiers from the serving class and go to the villagers. Our serving class is loyal. Perhaps they can help ease the fear and even recruit some new soldiers from the village. We need all – Drakoryans, our serving class, the villagers — to make defeating the ShadowFell a common cause.”
We speak more of war then, of strategy, of the need to patrol the borderlands between the empire and the mountains while protecting the villages, our castles, and the Mystic Mountain. King Vukurcis demands an accounting from each household’s factor of food stores. We discuss the possibility of hunting for game beyond the mountains, or of taking villagers and servants to forage for wild mushrooms or tubers should the need arise. We must not underestimate the gnawing resentment that comes with gnawing hunger, the king tells us.
We speak of the witches, who have grown quiet in their mountains, who are wary to use their magic now lest the energy attract the ShadowFell. They hoard it now, in case of attack. Queen Arvika realizes the fate of the Drakoryans is tied to the fate of the coven under the mountain. When the time comes, the king tells us, dragons and witches and humans will fight together.
“War is coming.” It is late in the day when the king rises. “After so many years on this throne, it’s something you can feel, like a storm. The evil this one carries will test us all. It will mean the difference between our survival and our extinction.” He pauses. “Tonight, we will hold what will be the last Drakoryan feast before the lean times begin. Return with your ladies. I would meet those I have not met. I could do with a bit of beauty.” He smiles and then turns. “Go. Seek your rooms, except the Lords of Za’vol. I would have them back for a word.”
Chapter 20
ZYVIS
I keep my eyes averted as the other lords file from the throne room. I know the king is displeased with me. I know I have brought shame on my house.
“Lords of Za’vol.” King Vukurcis’ voice is weary. “I hope you will take heed of what I have said today about the need for restraint.”
“We have, Your Highness,” Jayx says. I can feel his gaze on me. I can feel Turin’s.
Pride tightens its grip on my throat, whispering in my ear that I have nothing to explain, not even to the king. Pride sounds a lot like my father, but I fight it now and step forward.
“I take full responsibility,” I say. “The villager challenged us.”
The king leans back and strokes his long white beard. Beside him, the princes remain silent. I wish they were not here, watching their father demonstrate how to handle a rogue lord.
“I sense more to this situation.” King Vukurcis is watching me thoughtfully. His focus shifts to my brothers. “I hear House Za’vol have taken a war bride?”
“Yes,” Turin says. “A maiden from Branlock.”
“And you have all coupled with her?” The king arches a bushy brow, as if already knowing the answer.
“All save for me,” I confide. “We gave the maiden time to adjust after coming to Castle Za’vol. Before I could take her, we were called here.”
The king sighs. “While no excuse for threatening the villagers as you did, the heat of lust does make our dragon nature difficult to control.” He nods to Jayx and Turin. “Your brother should have stayed behind to bed your bride while you went to the fields.”
“We needed every available dragon,” Jayx says.
“Hmmm.” The king looks back at me. “Nothing can be done about the past. But you, Lord Zyvis, must go this moment and make that maiden yours. Slake your desire. Cool your blood that a cooler head may guide you through trying times ahead.”
Relief washes through me. This is as close to royal forgiveness as I could hope for.
“Be gone now.” He waves us off with a royal hand. “I will see you at the feast tonight, with a lady who has been fully claimed. Perhaps you can achieve the Deepening before you return to Castle Za’vol. You would be the first outside Drakoryan royalty to seal your bond within the walls of my castle.”
We all bow gratefully. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Jayx says. “It would indeed be an honor.”
As we leave the hall, I should be reflecting on the mercy of the king. He could have punished me for what I did; he could have punished our household. Instead, he has given me leave to claim Isla under his roof, and that is all I can focus on. My cock already stiffens under my leather skirt as I try to imagine the soft swells of her breasts, the taste of her arousal, the sounds she will make when I sink into her quivering warmth.
“Brother, a word?” Turin has stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“Make haste.” I don’t try to hide my impatience. “I’m on my way to Isla.”
“That is why I want a word.” Turin pulls me to the side. “Isla has been through great pain. The attack on her village affected her deeply.”
“I am aware of this…” I snap. I try to pull my arm away, growing more annoyed when my brother tightens his grip. Jayx is at his side now.
“Isla seeks security. She will demand something of you before you couple…”
“Demand?” My father’s voice interrupts us. We did not know he had been lurking nearby.
“Lord Urda, this is a private conversation,” Jayx says.
My father’s face turns red. “You forget yourself, young lord,” he growls. “You had more than one father in the house that raised you up.”
Turin releases his grip. “Yes.” He faces my father. “But we have our own house now, and you have no place in our affairs unless asked.”
“Bah!” My enraged father points his finger at me. “This is why you lost when you battled for your maiden, Zyvis. You allow your brothers to make you weak! Listen how they encourage you to allow a woman to make demands. A woman!” His eyes glow gold. The dragon in his veins is slow to wake, but it is stirring now, and despite the fact that I am younger and stronger, this is my father—the great Lord Udra— and I am afraid. He steps towards me, forcing me to look up at him. “Is this who you are?” he asks, disdain dripping from his voice. “Some simpering fool fo
llowing your brothers’ directions even in the bedchamber? Honor your father. Teach your woman that one Lord of Za’vol will not grovel before her like a dog.”
Humiliation slices through me like the blade of a hot knife. I feel my jaw clench. He is right. Who are Jayx and Turin to tell me how to take this woman? I look to my brothers.
“I can handle Isla,” I say. “Go prepare for the feast. If I need your advice, I’ll ask you for it.”
I do not look back as I storm away. If my brothers call, I do not hear them. I am fixed now on my need, on what I deserve. My father has refined my purpose, and he is right.
He is always right.
Chapter 21
ISLA
I am practicing with my sword, trying to remember what Turin has taught me. I think of the sword as an extension of my arm. I move it fluidly. I seek to train my thoughts as I train my movements. I only think fully on the ShadowFell when I am armed, when I can imagine killing the one that took my sister.
I imagine two stones of the fireplace to be dragon scales, the space between two of them the vulnerable spot where I must drive my sword. But as I draw back my arm, I hear the door open behind me. I turn, expecting to see Sal. When I spot Zyvis standing there, unannounced, I drop my arm to my side in surprise.
“Swordplay?” He closes the door behind him, gesturing to my wooden weapon as he approaches. He walks over and takes it from my hand studying it. “This belonged to my brother.”
It occurs to me that I was practicing when Jayx first came to me as well. This moment would feel familiar were it not for the disapproving look on Zyvis’ face.
“Yes,” I say. “Turin gave it to me.”
“The sharpest thing a lady should wield is a tapestry needle.”
When I try to take hold of the sword, Zyvis holds it aloft. I feel like a child reaching for a toy. It makes me angry, and the helpless feeling I’ve been fighting replaces the bravery I’ve been trying to grow.
It occurs to me then that he does not understand. Perhaps if I explain. I lower my hand. “Did your brothers not tell you?” I ask.
“Tell me what?” Zyvis walks over and puts the sword on a shelf far too high for me to reach. I try to quell the anger rising along with the growing helplessness.
“What I would have from you before we couple,” I say. “That is why you are here, isn’t it?”
Zyvis turns back to me. There is no understanding in his tone, only mockery. “What you would have from me? Are you a village whore that you demand payment?”
I feel as if the wind has been knocked out of me. “No!” The word is forced out by an exasperated breath. “But if I am to go willingly to your bed…”
Zyvis walks over to me. “Enough!” He’s a hands-width away from me, glaring in the room’s warm light. “Were it not for the Drakoryans, you’d be dead at the bottom of a well instead of warm in the castle of a king.”
“Were it not for the Drakoryans, the ShadowFell would have seen no need to attack my village.” I pause. “I am no whore, Lord Zyvis.” I glare up at him. “Apologize.”
The muscle of his jaw clenches. Although my heart is pounding, I do not look away.
“I apologize for offending you,” he says. “However, I will promise you nothing. You either lie with me or you don’t.”
Oh, how I want to refuse. He is unlike his brothers, and the memory of their sweetness, so easily juxtaposed to his arrogance, makes me want to turn away. Only love for Jayx and Turin, for what they will lose – for what I will lose— if I do not lie with Zyvis, forces me to drop my gaze.
“Very well, Lord Zyvis. I will lie with you.” I search his face for signs of disappointment, given the flatness of my tone. Instead, I see only selfish lust.
He takes me by the upper arms and pulls me to him. I had taken a rest earlier, and before I did, Sal had helped me change into a light shift. I’d given her leave afterwards. Now I wish I’d asked her to stay.
Zyvis reaches for the neck of my garment. I close my eyes as the fabric rips and he pushes the torn garment roughly from my body. Even though we aren’t touching, I can feel the heat emanating from his bare chest. I can feel his hungry gaze on my nakedness. His hand closes over my right breast. His stern look dares me to challenge the authority in his touch.
“I will make you scream with pleasure.” It is a boast delivered with gruff certainty, but also a detachment, as if this is something Zyvis is determined to do to prove he can.
I do not reply and when he kneels to the floor and lays me on the rug by the fire, I stare up at the candles on the wall sconces, at the tongues of flame that dance as Zyvis’ tongue begins to dance between my legs.
He is tasting me as if I were ripe fruit, lapping and stabbing. I bite my lip, seeking to deny him the dual responses of shock and arousal that overwhelm me. I feel my hips rise towards his mouth. I dig my fingers into the fur of the rug under me, twisting hands full of it as his possessive touch roams rough over my body. I whimper in frustration as my nipples harden under his palms. I do not want to surrender to him, and to my relief he stops before I reach pleasure’s peak.
Zyvis is on his knees now, pulling me to mine.
“Did my brothers teach you how to please a man with your mouth?” he asks.
I shake my head and he grins wolfishly.
“Of course, they didn’t.” He pushes my head down, towards his exposed cock. It is long and thick and bulges like a muscle. The end is flared, like a fleshy arrow. He drives my head towards it and I know what he wants. Men use their tongues and fingers to penetrate and tease. I can use my mouth as I use my pussy, can use the warmth and heat, can use my tongue as they use theirs.
I remember what Lady Klea said, about how a woman’s submission can be her weapon. I will use mine and make him weak. I lean down, lathing Zyvis with my tongue. I move my mouth across the flared head of his cock. He groans. I slide it down. He is so large that I don’t get far so I nurse the end of his cock like a babe. He goes rigid. His balls tighten where I hold them. I back off, denying him his climax. I fist the base of his shaft, running my hand up, noting where my touch makes him groan the loudest. He thinks I am serving him, but I am not. I am learning to control him. I flick my tongue against the spot at the base of his head where a translucent drop appears from the slit. I flick it away. He grabs my hair. He is impossibly hard. I put my hand on his chest and lean over him.
“Oh, my Lord Zyvis,” I say throatily. I look up at him. His grin is satisfied, swayed by my submissive tone. Without warning, I throw my leg over him, sinking down onto his shaft. He is so large that I gasp. The youngest Lord of Za’vol is as unprepared for my pussy as I was for his tongue, and just as helpless. I tighten my muscles against him as I lean over, my breasts dangling like ripe fruit just out of his reach. They bob and sway as I rise and lower myself once, twice.
The look on his face is one of surprise, his sudden spurt of hot seed my victory. I do not reach climax as I force his. He grasps my hips, writhing beneath me, trapped between my soft white thighs as I stare down at him. When I have wrung the last of his tribute from his cock, I rise to standing.
“Congratulations on claiming me, Lord Zyvis,” I say.
I turn away then, tears stinging my eyes. I have given myself to a man I do not love for the sake of two I do. Still, it is a hollow victory, and not just for me. I brace myself for his anger, but a moment later I hear the door shut as Zyvis leaves the room.
Chapter 22
JAYX
I want to ask her if she is all right. I want to ask if Zyvis treated her gently.
We are in the hallway outside the Queen’s quarters, where we all waited for Isla to emerge. It has been hours since our brother left to be with her, and although we did not discuss it, I know Turin has been worried, too.
It is hard to be angry with the king, but I was unsettled when he granted Zyvis permission to go to Isla. I imagine her, unprepared for a mate fueled by the meanness of his father. I feel a flush of anger when I think of
Lord Udra’s interference.
I do not know what happened between Zyvis and Isla. I only know that he is uncharacteristically quiet. I’d like to think it is from relief that comes with the unleashing of lust, but when Isla arrives, they exchange only brief glances before she turns her attention to me and Turin. She smiles, and I forget my worries.
“Are you well, my lady?” I ask.
“I am yours,” she says, giving me her small hand. The other she rubs down Turin’s arms. He smiles, too, and we admire her beauty. She is resplendent in a gown of sage-colored brocade covered in delicately embroidered vines flowering with tiny plum-colored flowers. The split gown reveals an underskirt of the same color as the blooms. The neckline of the gown dips low. A single tear-drop shaped green amethyst hangs just above the dip of her cleavage. Her hair is swept into a thick coil of braids that wraps around the top of her head to converge in a long thick plait in the back.
All lords believe their lady is the finest in the Drakoryan Empire, but tonight even King Vukurcis seems impressed when it is our turn to approach the dais just prior to the feast. It is said the king has always had an eye for exceptional beauty, and his lingers on Isla as she curtsies before the throne.
“The War Bride of House Za’vol,” he says. “And a brighter flame never burned in my hall than you.” He laughs then, looking left and right to the princes. “When it comes time to take a bride, you should do so well.” Beside me, Isla blushes beautifully, and the king chuckles.
“I take it that the final bond will also take place here?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I answer for all of us.
The king smiles. “My oracle will guide the way. Again, it will be my honor, and I will consider a newly completed union to be a positive omen as we prepare for victory over the ShadowFell.”