The Dragon's War: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (The Goddess's Harem Book 3)

by Lila Jean

“Fine.” Her shoulders relaxed, and she threw back the liquid, wiping her lips on the back of her hand as she sank back into the seat, eyes closed from the pain, her wounded arm still tightly pressed to her body.

  Draven raised the middle armrest and tenderly lifted her legs, carefully shoving aside Zane’s first aid kit and swinging her feet onto the seat beside her to create a little makeshift bed. Anthony picked up on Draven’s plan and wordlessly handed him two pillows while Killian grabbed a blanket, and soon, their mate fell asleep in the front-most row of the plane, her breathing steady as she cradled her burned arm at her chest.

  The moment her eyes closed, Draven’s forced smile fell.

  “You’re sure they won’t be back?” Flynn said in hushed tones with a nod out the window.

  “Positive.” Draven set his hands on his head, never taking his eyes off his woman. “They got their asses handed to them and didn’t have the balls to go for the kill.” He sucked in a deep breath, knowing in his heart things had changed irrevocably, that hurting his woman had been an act of war against their own prince. “I killed too many of my own people. No, next time, my father will be involved, and it won’t be pretty.”

  “Damn it,” Zane said under his breath, rubbing his face in frustration as he collapsed into a nearby seat.

  With that, no one spoke. Everyone remained close by, their gazes often flickering to their mate, the undertone of worry and concern for her wellbeing palpable in the small jet.

  Inwardly, Draven fumed. Every moment of silence only made the anger worse, made it boil harder, fanned the rage until it consumed him. It burned him from the inside out, hotter than any fire could ever be. This disagreement with his father had become a feud, one that would end in fire and brimstone, blood and bone. Just like with Anthony, Draven would not get the happy reunion with his father that he had hoped for.

  “Breathe, man.” Anthony appeared suddenly beside Draven, silent as ever, and set his hand reassuringly on Draven’s shoulder.

  Draven let out the breath he had been unconsciously holding as he stared at Tina, brooding over the choice that had to be made. “This proves it, buddy.” Draven rubbed his face, his head aching a little with the revelation. “I can’t negotiate with my father, not if he’s willing to put my mate’s life at risk.”

  “I know,” Anthony said softly, his voice gravelly and low.

  Though he got along with all of the brotherhood, Draven was quickly coming to appreciate Anthony’s brevity, honesty, and silence. Most of all, though, Draven loved the wolf shifter’s lack of a need to fill the void with chatter. He simply said what needed to be said, consoled whomever needed consoling, and served as the constant, if silent, foundation of their team. He kept them going, kept them strong, kept them focused when their emotions got the best of them, and Draven would be forever grateful for it.

  “I wish I could just take her and fly off.” He sighed deeply. “I always feel better after a fly.”

  He and Anthony stood in silence, the rumble of the jet under their feet a reminder of the make-or-break faceoff they were about to have with the king of the demigods, descendent of Odin, and ardent opponent to the One Queen proposal the six of them had created.

  Lost in his anger, Draven felt a sudden surge of cold dread at the thought of losing her, at the reminder of how close he had come to losing her, and he almost couldn’t bear it. He had fought in battles, trained with the most hardened masters in the world, and barely felt pain at all, but losing her would turn him feral. In his loss, the dragon within him would take over, and in his mourning, he would lose himself to the wild creature within, in all its impulses and bloodlust. The powerful prince of the dragons would become a feral beast.

  It was crucial that Draven never lose her, and he would never let her out of his sight again. If it meant giving his life to save hers, it would be an easy sacrifice for him to make.

  11

  Flynn

  As the jet neared Olympus, Flynn was on edge, ready for what could quite possibly be the most important conversation of his life. He leaned against the pilot’s open door, his bulky frame taking up the entire hallway outside the cockpit, and scanned the island looming on the horizon. Its familiar spires and mountains called to him, beckoning him to the home he missed.

  He looked over his shoulder at his mate, the woman he loved more than anything, watching her chest slowly rise and fall beneath the blanket. Her bandaged arm was still tightly clutched to her body, and he was even more resolute to ensure the conversation went well. Human doctors wouldn’t be able to do nearly enough for her, not like the magical healers on Olympus, who had cured diseases humans hadn’t even dreamed could be cured. They would be able to heal her, but he had to get her to them, and soon.

  “Will she still be out when we land?” Flynn asked Zane, who sat in the seat across the aisle from her.

  “No.” Zane shook his head, rubbing his hands together in guilt. “I didn’t want her straining herself to keep an intuitive eye on the situation when we landed, but we need her.” He groaned in frustration, looking for all the world like he had failed her. “Our entire plan hinges on her intuition.”

  “Draven, do we have a cloak for her to wear?” Flynn asked, nudging the dragon shifter who sat immobile in the seat across from her, where he’d sat since they’d taken off.

  “Yeah, why?” the dragon shifter asked without looking away from their mate.

  “To hide her arm.” Flynn’s jaw tensed. “We can’t let Father see her wound, or he’ll use it as a bargaining chip against us.”

  “How charming,” Draven said dryly, briefly looking up at him with an expression of distaste.

  “All’s fair in war,” Flynn mumbled under his breath, hoping this encounter wouldn’t come to blows. “Anthony, can you find the cloak?”

  “Yeah.” The wolf shifter ran to the back and started rifling through bags, and Killian strode up behind him to help.

  “They’re asking for a call signal,” the pilot said, his hand over the mic on his headset as he leaned toward Flynn, awaiting orders. “What do I say?”

  “Hand it over.” Flynn gestured for the headset, and the pilot tugged it off, leaning back so that Flynn could reach his head into the cockpit. With the headset cord at its limit, he adjusted the mic by his mouth and took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke. “This is Crown Prince Flynn Astor, and I would like to speak with my father on the landing pad.”

  For a moment, there was only silence on the other end. A man stuttered at first, then the shuffle of papers and feet in the background caught Flynn’s attention. “Y-yes, Your Highness,” the attendant eventually said. “Right away, cleared for landing.”

  Flynn tugged off the headset and sighed deeply, on edge, his hand resting on the hilt of Gram, the regal and godly weapon a reminder that yes, this would work.

  It has to work.

  “Tina, wake up,” Zane said softly behind Flynn, and Flynn turned around to find the tiger shifter running his hands tenderly through Tina’s hair.

  “What’s happening?” Tina asked groggily, slurring a little as she blinked herself awake. “We there?”

  “Almost,” Flynn said with a nod. “How are you feeling?”

  “Awesome,” she said, grimacing, her face contorted in pain as she sat upright, her messy hair like a nest around her face. “Just so great. Never better.”

  “Smartass,” Draven said with a grin.

  “Yeah, you’re one to talk.” She chuckled and rubbed her eye with her good hand, the bandaged arm still tight to her chest. “Damara and I are ready, just give me a second to clear my head.” She looked at Zane. “Whatever the hell you gave me is powerful as hell.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “That was the point.”

  “Tina, wear this,” Anthony said, holding up a cloak for her. “It’ll hide your arm. We can’t let the king see your wound, not until there’s a peaceable arrangement.”

  “Ah, right.” She stood and let the wolf shifter drape
it over her shoulders and button the clasps at the front. “Doesn’t this look a little silly for the summer?”

  “The runway is at the top of the mountain, where there’s quite a bit of wind.” Flynn clasped his hands together, ready for the final planning before the confrontation. “Tina, you’re going to need to hide that wound of yours no matter what, okay?”

  When she nodded in affirmation, Flynn carried on. “Good. Anthony and Killian, you—” He briefly looked at Draven, the way the dragon couldn’t take his worried gaze off Tina, and Flynn cleared his throat. “I mean, Draven and Killian, you two stick close to Tina, use your bodies to block the wind as much as possible to keep the cloak from kicking up and revealing the bandage.”

  Draven nodded subtly in thanks, and Flynn rubbed his hands together, mind racing as he continued. “The runway is a bottleneck, and really one of the weaknesses of Olympus. If we can land, we can keep an entire army at bay because there are only a few entrances and exits off the tarmac”

  “Thus why we needed the element of surprise,” Zane added with a nod, “so he couldn’t prepare by sending loads of people up there ahead of time.”

  “Exactly.” Flynn nodded. “My father will only have enough time to send roughly forty soldiers to the tarmac, probably the elite guard, and between the lot of us, we can take them out if we have to.” Flynn sighed and looked at his darling woman, who lifted her chin in defiance, as if daring him to say what he was about to say, but he had to. “Tina, please retreat to the plane if things go south. We’re going to retreat the moment we can, and I need to know you’re safe on—”

  “Flynn,” she said with a raised eyebrow as if chiding him. “I know my limits, and I know when I can’t help, but I can at least put on a good show to help everyone get safely back into the plane.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Stop,” she said, but then her voice softened. “Please. Trust me.”

  “I do.” He cradled her head in his hand, his thumb brushing her cheek, and for a moment it was just the two of them in the small plane. As the jet hit a patch of turbulence, though, he snapped out of the moment and ordered everyone to their seats.

  Once they were strapped in, they landed quickly, the plane rolling to a stop as a collection of roughly thirty soldiers marched out onto the tarmac with King Frederick at their helm, his dark hair whipping around his face as he marched forward, wearing his usual tailored suit and trademark scowl.

  “Quickly, now,” Flynn said, nodding toward the exit. He opened the bay door and arched his back as the stairs descended, taking the steps easily, donning his own mask of defiant deference as he locked eyes with his father for the first time since they had faced off in Epara.

  “Son,” Frederick said with a nod toward Flynn.

  “Father,” Flynn said curly, nodding back.

  “What’s all this about?” The king’s gaze flicked behind him, eyes widening as the rest of their party stepped onto the tarmac, and Flynn hoped they were keeping with the plan and keeping Tina directly behind him, using him as a shield to keep her safe from his father’s deadly aim with a dagger.

  “I promise, Father, you want to hear what I’m about to say.” Flynn nodded to the guards behind the king, whose weapons were drawn and ready. “Tell them to stand down.”

  “Give me a reason why they should,” the king countered, glaring at him. “For that matter—”

  Without a word, Flynn unsheathed the mighty Gram, the weapon’s gleaming silver finish reflecting a dazzling array of light across the tarmac and the king’s face. As Gram pulsed with godly power, King Frederick’s jaw dropped open, his mouth gaping in wonder and awe, his eyes widening and his shoulders relaxing as he beheld one of the greatest and most legendary swords of all time.

  “A gift from Odin,” Flynn said for effect. “A blessing from the All-Father himself.”

  “Bestowed upon you? My son, my … I am so proud of you.” The king’s voice was soft, barely audible in the gusting wind of the mountaintop.

  “No.” Flynn shook his head. “A blessing on her.” He nodded behind him in Tina’s direction, taking a brief moment to look at her in the midst of their power play. The regal tilt to her chin as she and the brotherhood faced off with one of the most powerful men alive only made him fall more in love with her.

  “What?” Frederick asked softly, the boom in his voice gone, almost deflated. “How did this happen?”

  As the winds whipped around them on the mountaintop tarmac, Flynn told the king the entire story, how the gods had come for Tina, how they had hidden their arrival and their intent, recapping for the king all he had missed while Odin, Venus, and Ares had come for Flynn’s mate.

  As the story progressed, he took slow and steady steps toward his father until they were face to face, nearly eye to eye, and set the mighty Gram in his father’s hands for study. The moment the blade hit the king’s palms, the metal sparked to life, sizzling and simmering with the lingering traces of the All-Father’s magic and King Frederick fell to his knees in reverence.

  “You met Odin,” the king said, astonished. “And not only did you meet him, but you also impressed the king of the gods. I … I don’t …” Frederick sighed, staring off across the ocean, speechless. “You continue to amaze me, Flynn, in every way.”

  It was a rare compliment, a peek into the mind of the father that had been so often quiet, so often controlling and ever so slightly distant throughout his childhood. Flynn couldn’t help but soften at the confession.

  “It is authentic,” the king said, standing and offering it once more to Flynn. “And you are worthy of it, my son.”

  The king looked over Flynn’s shoulder, and Flynn followed the man’s gaze to find Tina waiting silently and patiently by the door to the plane. “It seems I owe you an apology, Tina Andrews.” He sighed and gestured to all six of them. “Welcome home, all of you. If the god to whom I owe my power and life approves of you, child, then it is not my place to defy him.” The king looked once more at Gram as Flynn sheathed it, and a small surprised smile played at the corners of his lips. “Do come in, won’t you?”

  With that, the king turned around and walked through the soldiers, telling them to stand down and dismissing them entirely.

  Flynn hesitated, subtly looking at Tina, waiting for the go-ahead or a warning that this was just a trap. She closed her eyes briefly, her veins glowing, and a moment later she smiled warmly. Nodding, she gestured toward the king. “It’s safe.”

  Flynn let out a long, slow breath and followed his father, careful to stay close to the woman he loved and the brotherhood that had become his family. If Damara wasn’t worried as to the king’s intentions, it meant they had finally made their first real ally since Tina’s contest had concluded.

  12

  Zane

  Zane lounged in a regal sitting room, an ornate wooden desk sitting off to the side, slightly ajar, covered in papers and scribbled notes he desperately wished to see. The only thing rooting him in his chair was the fact that King Frederick was sitting in front of it, and though his attention was fixed entirely on Flynn, Zane didn’t want to press his luck and cause an international incident because his curiosity got the best of him.

  Thus, he sat on the gilded sofa beside Anthony while a healer tended to Tina on a nearby couch. Draven and Killian paced behind her, warily eyeing the woman tending their mate. The healer’s hands glowed a soft blue as she touched the exposed skin on Tina’s burned arm, the blackened and blistered flesh slowly regenerating to her familiar skin, if a shade or two off. Tina, to her credit, kept her eyes closed and remained fairly still through what must have been a painful procedure, and Zane resisted the impulse to fawn over her, since it would only mean getting in the healer’s way.

  “I’d gotten word about the temple,” King Frederick said, nodding happily. “Truly wonderful to hear, and I can’t wait to see it for myself.” He paused, his hand hovering by his chin, and cautiously looked at Tina. “Should I be allowed to do so.”


  “Granted,” Tina said through gritted teeth as the healer worked on her arm.

  Zane gestured toward Frederick. “I assume all the kings know about the energy field protecting the temple?”

  “They do,” the king said with a nod. “That’s no doubt why the dragons waited to ambush you.” He sighed deeply, rubbing his face in frustration. “It’s also why I didn’t bother to do the same.”

  “What do you mean?” Flynn asked, crossing his bulky arms as he sat across from his father.

  “Call it guilt,” the old king said with a shrug. “Call it shame. For whatever reason, when I saw the temple come to life, I realized I was wrong about her.” The king nodded to Tina. “Deep down, I knew she was different, more than capable, but my damn pride clouded my judgment.” He pointed to Gram, still buckled to Flynn’s side. “Seeing Odin’s blessing for myself forced me to accept what I never wanted to acknowledge.”

  “That you were wrong,” Flynn finished for him.

  “Yes,” the king said softly, leaning his head on his fist and staring into the empty fireplace. “That I was wrong.”

  Deep down, Zane’s heart skipped beats. In his life, he had never heard those words out of a king’s mouth, and it astonished him to no end that King Frederick had just openly admitted his folly to everyone present.

  “Tell me about the One Queen concept,” Frederick said, leaning back in his seat with a deep sigh. “Tell me how it works.”

  “I’ve told you several times,” Flynn said with a frustrated chuckle. “Don’t tell me you weren’t listening?”

  “Of course, I wasn’t.” The king barked laughter, the sound grating and sudden, but he smiled nonetheless. “My son wants to share his queen? I’d never have agreed to it in any other circumstance. It’s madness.” He hesitated again, looking once more at Tina and sighing. “It was madness.”

  “It’s fairly simple,” Zane said, answering for Flynn. “It’s a formal marriage, with the one caveat that each of us princes are married to the same woman.” He smiled and looked over at Tina, who peeked playfully through one eye, only to wince a second later as the healer moved up her arm. Zane frowned, wishing he could take her pain from her, and plowed on with his explanation. “We will spend a month between the five kingdoms and Epara, which means being in each kingdom two months out of the year. The rest of the time, we will have an acting dignitary serving in our place, referring to us for major decisions.”