A Lair So Loyal (The Last Dragorai Book 2)

by Zoey Ellis

  Guardian Vy pursed her crinkled lips. “That did not strike you as odd?”

  Oshali inhaled. “Upon reflection, yes it does. At the time I was distracted.”

  “Earning your Gowns should not be something that takes you further away from your duties, Oshali,” Vy said solemnly. “You have been told that it is an addition to your existing responsibilities. You cannot expect to pull back from your responsibilities and expect your Gowns. It suggests you’re not ready for them.”

  Oshali breathed shallowly, wondering if they were going to stop her from continuing the training. In truth, she didn’t need to earn the Mheyu Gowns, but when Guardian Pesilda had suggested it, it had been such an honor. As much as she wanted to experience the world beyond the sanctum, it didn’t mean that she didn’t also love everything the guardians stood for. She highly respected the work the Mheyu did, and loved delving into the records and getting lost in the history and culture and traditions of the ancient Thrakonds—it was the whole reason why she wanted to go out into the realms and experience it for herself. It would be an honor to earn her Gowns, even if she didn’t stay and become a guardian.

  She straightened. “I didn’t intend to give that impression, Guardian,” she breathed. “I’m still getting used to… meeting with the dragorai and—”

  Guardian Vy raised a brow. “After seven years?”

  Oshali nodded. “I am still trying to determine the best way to interact with him. He doesn’t always comply with the guidelines set out in my training.”

  The guardian chuckled. “Many things rarely do.”

  “I just thought that there’d be no harm if I delayed talking to him for two weeks. And then that turned into four…”

  Guardian Vy raised her cup and took a long sip. “The most interesting and unbelievable events are rarely forewarned or planned,” she said after savoring the tea for a long moment. “That is how history is made. And we must always be ready for it. We cannot reschedule our responsibilities, especially when it involves alphas as legendary, rare, and powerful as the dragorai. He is not simply the alpha who allows us to live on part of his range. His is a respected, ancient being.”

  “I know,” Oshali said, irritation rising. She had been told all her life how special the dragorai were—and after studying them and meeting Tyomar, she already knew.

  “Do you?” Guardian Vy looked at her for the first time, and Oshali tempered down her annoyance. She had to take responsibility for refusing to offer him an audience for nearly a month.

  “I have never evaded my responsibilities before, Vy,” she said quietly. “This was a rare occurrence and it will not happen again.”

  Guardian Vy held her gaze, a long silence stretching between them as they observed each other.

  Vy was the first adult Oshali remembered meeting as a child. She was an elder with a stern demeanor but had kind eyes. Oshali had been unable to say her full name; Viyanettra. So the Guardian had shortened it to Vy, and it ended up sticking.

  “Silette and Joren left today, didn’t they?” Vy asked.

  At the sound of their names, the raw sorrow surged, and Oshali could only nod as she tried to compose herself.

  Vy sighed and remained quiet for a long time. “We will continue our discussion after we record the latest events with the Seven’s most favored creation.”

  “I won’t be allowed to record their testimonies, will I?” Oshali asked tentatively.

  “I think it would benefit you to see the process, particularly as there are limited new opportunities for you to do so,” the guardian said thoughtfully. “Choose two interviews to attend. But you will not speak in any of them,” she warned. Vy put down her empty cup. “You decide which interviews you want to attend and ensure you speak to Guardian Persilda about recording protocols. I know you’ve had some training already, but it needs to be fresh in your mind now that we are actually doing some.” She levied a serious stare at Oshali. “I’m sure there Is no need to reiterate to you that this is an extremely important historical event.”

  Oshali nodded. “I am aware.” Either way, it was a monumental moment in the history of the realms. If the dragorai managed to replenish their numbers, it would completely change the Twin Realms. The ongoing war between the North and South would not continue if there were a flood of dragons and their riders, as well as their mates all over the realms. What would the warring North and South Dominions do? It was a fascinating idea.

  “Good,” the Guardian stated. “This must be treated seriously and with all the care and attention that it deserves. The dragorai are difficult in the best of times, but they will have to do abide our instruction this time.”

  “Will they?” Oshali was dubious.

  “Yes,” the Guardian said firmly. “They may be the Goddesses’ favorite creations, but we are empowered by the Goddesses. The clan must allow us to do our duty, and they know that. They will not make it easy, mind you,” she said with a sigh, “but they know we must be allowed to collect data.”

  “And all of the brothers will be interviewed?”

  “The brothers and the mated omega, at least,” the guardian said. “We may also need to interview some members of their lairs to get contrasting observations.”

  “You think they might lie?” Oshali asked, puzzled. “Why would they do that?”

  “Memory can be a tricky thing,” the Guardian said. “I doubt they would intentionally lie, but the annoyance in having to sit down and explain things to us may lead them to overlook memories, or they could forget some of the details, considering it’s been weeks since all of this happened.”

  Oshali averted her eyes, aware of what she was implying. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

  “If an account of an event is going to be taken,” the guardian continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “we always try to get at least two different viewpoints. That way, the account or the event can be more accurately recorded based on those testimonies. Different people remember different things, or have different viewpoints and vantage points about what happened. It is sometimes amazing how varied the accounts can be.”

  Oshali thought for a long moment. “But some of the accounts state information as fact in the existing records,” she said frowning. “Especially from the time when the Thrakonds ruled the land.”

  Guardian Vy nodded. “No guardian has ever found discrepancies with a Goddess’ word. A few of the very early guardians were lucky enough to interview some of the Goddesses themselves. With those accounts it was determined that they had no reason to lie, so they are treated as fact.” She shifted in her seat. “In any case, the dragorai have no reason to lie either, from what I am aware. So this will be about managing their expectations and behavior.”

  Oshali snorted. “Managing the behavior of a dragorai?”

  A smile crept onto the guardian’s face. “Yes, I suppose that is impossible. Are you ready for it?”

  Oshali straightened her shoulders. “Always.”

  2

  "No."

  Tyomar glared across the rectangular stone meeting table at his brother Khyros. "It is required. There is no option to refuse."

  Khyros shook his head. "We do not have time to indulge the Mheyu, Tyomar."

  “It is not an indulgence to inform them of the changes to our clan,” Tyomar shot back. “It is our duty. We should have the important elements of our lives documented. It is the way the Goddesses want it."

  "We have other things to worry about, Tyomar," another brother, Zendyor, interjected.

  "I know that," Tyomar said, shooting him a stiff glance. "I'm just telling you they will request interviews with us all, and we must oblige them."

  Three of his brothers around the table exhaled or grumbled their frustration except, surprisingly, the fourth brother, Nyro, who was historically known for being completely disengaged in their clan meetings. But that had changed recently.

  "I would be pleased to tell them about my mate," he said, his expression smug. "There is much to say."<
br />
  If Tyomar hadn’t been so annoyed by Khyros’ response, he would have grinned at his newly mated brother. Nyro took every opportunity to brag about his mate, even when she was sitting right beside him. Unfortunately, today she had not attended the clan meeting. "Can you let I'mya know she will need to attend an interview as well?"

  "Of course," Nyro said. He glanced around the table at the other three. "I don't see what the problem is. It is important we make it known that we are growing—that we will not become extinct."

  "I see nothing inherently wrong with it," Sethorn said carefully. Sethorn was the strongest strategist and planner of all the brothers, and he weighed everything they did through that lens. "The Mheyu have always documented us, and they are not part of any conspiracy against us. They are, in fact, devoted to our creators. It's just, we still don't know how information about us, and about the existence of females such as I'mya, was discovered by certain individuals. How do we know this information won’t be used against us?"

  Tyomar brows deepen into a frown. "You cannot possibly be suggesting that the Mheyu are giving anyone information? I told you, they did not know about I'mya."

  “It doesn’t mean someone else is not accessing their information.”

  “They are on my range,” Tyomar said, so offended he was almost bellowing. “Are you saying, Sethorn, I cannot protect my own territory?”

  “There are plenty of sanctums across the realm, brother," Zendyor bit out. “We do not know what issues afflict the Mheyu now."

  "I can tell you now that nothing afflicts them," Tyomar said sharply. "I looked into my Mheyu's eyes, and there was no deception there."

  Zendyor's brow raised. "Your Mheyu?"

  "She has been my contact for seven years," Tyomar said stiffly. "I’ve seen every expression on her face. She has never lied to me."

  "I thought you said you couldn’t see her face when you meet her?" Zendyor asked, frowning. “You complained about it.”

  Tyomar scowled. He never should have told them that. "I can see her eyes at every meeting. If she was lying to me, I would know." He looked around the table at his four brothers. "In any case, are we going to suspect the Mheyu after centuries of respecting their methods? Are we going to start refusing them of their right to document what happens with our clan as the last remaining dragorai in the Twin Realms?"

  There was silence. Tyomar knew his brothers understood the importance of what the Mheyu did; they were resisting because it would take time and effort for them to do what the Mheyu required, which was to sit down and answer questions to the best of their abilities. The dragorai were never good at simply sitting around answering questions. They were hunters, and fighters, and adventurers; they reveled in being able to travel the realm as they saw fit, exploring and taking what was owed to them. Life was different now, but Tyomar wanted achievements and successes to be treated the same way they had for past clans.

  "They are going to contact us with times to attend the interviews," Tyomar said, breaking the silence. "I suggest we respond in agreement with whatever they ask." He looked pointedly at Khyros, who was the eldest brother and head of the clan.

  Khyros' face was like thunder, but he said nothing for a long moment as he glared at Tyomar, who held his gaze, aware that he was being unusually stubborn about this, but he didn’t care. Most of the time, he was the connecting element among the brothers. Sethorn could be cold and dismissive, Zenydor was extremely hot-tempered, Khyros was sometimes withdrawn, and Nyro had an inherent selfishness that could easily aggravate the others. It wasn’t that they all didn’t have the same traits; Tyomar could also be cold and dismissive at times, and a hothead and very selfish too, but their traits were dominant in different ways. Tyomar realized long ago he could connect with each of his brothers and smooth the sharp edges of their personalities so as not to be too destructive to the clan.

  It wasn't as though he intended to be the clan’s conduit. He simply enjoyed being a dragorai and being among brothers who were like him. He respected them and found admirable traits in all of them, which he hoped were also within himself. Besides that, he was thankful for every day he got to fly across the realm on his dan askha—to hunt, to maintain his own territory, to spend time with others who were like him. It was a blessing from the Goddesses that he had been born a dragorai, and he didn't want that to end prematurely. If there was a way for their kind to continue, then he thought they should do everything to ensure that. The dragorai simply could not die out from the inability to propagate their lines. In his early years, he had witnessed some incredible feats by dragorais—magnificent, powerful, fearless males and females—and he was honored to be part of that heritage, a heritage the Mheyu were trying to preserve.

  "If they must record this, they can come here," Khyros finally begrudgingly offered. "They can do their interviews before or after one of our clan meetings."

  Tyomar’s frown deepened. “This is the Mheyu,” he replied. He didn't bother to say any more; it was pretty clear what he meant. There was no point in having the interviews and then making it as difficult as possible for the realm’s most fastidious record-keepers to do what they needed. The clan had to go to the sanctum. Besides, Tyomar wanted another opportunity to see his little cloak.

  Not seeing her for nearly a month had been absolutely enraging. It made him irritable that she was so close, on his own range, and yet inaccessible when he wanted to see her.

  He chose not to think too deeply about why he wanted to see her, or the stirrings of something wild and potent that appeared when he did.

  He hadn’t always been interested in her in that way. When the Mheyu had presented her at the age of thirteen in her little custom cloak, he’d been glad to see that the baby he’d brought to them had been well looked after, but he’d thought it was ridiculous they were expecting a child of that age to liaise with him about important matters regarding his clan. But when he met her again after her training five years later, she had impressed him. Knowledgeable, interesting, and so clearly supportive of the dragorai, she sparked a curiosity in him. It had been seven years since, and he couldn't deny that his curiosity of her extended to imagining what she looked like. He enjoyed watching her range of expressions through her beautiful, brown eyes, seeing them widen and narrow or blink in surprise. She tried to adhere to the Mheyu way of being respectful and bland, but it was clear his little cloak had a strong personality. Sometimes she surprised him completely, and in those moments he was proud of her.

  Lately, the wild stirrings and need to see her had been intensifying. He’d been thinking about her more often than he should, wondering how those pretty eyes would look if he explored under her cloak and sucked on various tender parts of her body. Only two things stopped him. First, he had held her tiny body as a baby when he handed her to the guardians. And she was still young, only in her twenties, while he was centuries old. He knew she didn't like it when he called her little cloak, but it was more for him than for her. He wanted to remember her at thirteen when she looked so worried and frightened of him, just a little girl hoping not to be eaten by the scary dragorai. In some ways, he felt responsible for her. But the nickname was beginning to mean something much more to him than a reminder of her age and that worried him. The other thing that stopped him was his respect for the Goddesses. He couldn’t dishonor them by indulging himself with someone so clearly meant to be an exceptional Mheyu Guardian. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t see her when he needed to. Right now, the short meeting they had was not enough. Something had been wrong when he saw her—she’d been upset. It didn’t sit well with him. After he left, he realized he should have demanded she tell him. But returning with his brothers for the interviews was the next best thing.

  "No disrespect to either of you," Nyro said, interrupting the silent eye-tussle between Khyros and Tyomar. "But does this have to be a clan-wide decision? Why don't those of us who wish to speak to the Mheyu take the opportunity to and those of us who don't, don't?"


  Tyomar glanced at Nyro. "This has been the most important thing to happen to our clan in the last five centuries. I would like to know if Khyros is intending to treat it like it isn’t by refusing the Mheyu the chance to record it properly." He glanced at Khyros who was tense and still. "It is disrespectful to all of us if we don't do it as a clan. It is disrespectful to the Mheyu, it is disrespectful to the Goddesses—”

  "All right!" Khyros growled, his voice echoing around the Vattoro temple where they held their clan meetings. “We will do these interviews as necessary.”

  Tyomar inclined his head and sat back in his chair while Zendyor scowled and Nyro nodded in agreement.

  “Everyone is required to work this around whatever they are doing,” Sethorn said tersely. “I suggest we push back our surveillance of the queen until after these interviews are over.”

  "So we now have to wait, yet again, before we can move forward on the queen?" Zendyor growled.

  "We weren't exactly planning a significant strike," Tyomar pointed out.

  Zendyor grumbled and growled unintelligibly, clearly agitated, but Tyomar ignored him.

  It surprised him when Zendyor beckoned him over as the others were leaving the meeting. “I’m surprised at you,” he said gruffly.

  Tyomar frowned. “For what?”

  “Pushing Khyros so hard,” he replied, narrowing his eyes. “You know why he is not fond of the Mheyu?”

  Tyomar said nothing for a moment as they strolled out to the entrance of the temple which was on the side of one of the mountains on Khyros’ range. He knew that Khyros was not fond of the Mheyu guardians, since they had attempted to question him about his missing dragon. A couple of centuries ago, when a Mheyu sanctum was destroyed in the North and the guardians were looking to relocate, it should have been Khyros' mountain range they settled on. And as the head of the clan, it should be Khyros whom the Mheyu were in contact with regularly, but Khyros couldn’t tolerate the Mheyu and their dogged curiosity. Khyros' dragon had been missing for a long time now, and naturally, the Mheyu wanted the details of the facts surrounding his disappearance. But it was a painful subject for Khyros—as it would be for any of them.