by Rinelle Grey
Those with human mates, he noted. With half human children. They already had one foot in the human world, this didn’t seem any big deal to them.
Most of them looked uncertain. Uneasy.
He’d seen a lot more than any of them, and had the scars to prove it. Scars most dragons didn’t get. But he hated the Mesmer, and avoided it at all costs. That gave him the impression of being tough.
Or maybe it meant he was tough. He was never sure.
Either way, they listened as he stalked into the room and stared around.
“We have dragons out there right now guarding the prince’s Mesmer chambers and you sit here revelling,” he said flatly. “We know Rian clan is going to have to make their move soon, or risk losing a prince. We. Are. At. War.”
The other dragons and humans stared at him, confusion on their faces. They didn’t get it. Maybe it had been a mistake for Ultrima to send only the best fighters to guard the Mesmer chambers. Not one of these dragons had ever seen a battle. They had only a distant awareness that the clan was even at war. It wasn’t real for them.
If they’d fought one of those Rian dragons, or even seen one up close, throwing fire or covering their bodies in impenetrable metal armour, then maybe they’d be thinking about more important things than a human celebration.
Maybe they’d understand that dragons had fought and died for them to enjoy this freedom.
If they’d been part of Rian clan, they would never have been allowed to mate with humans, much less bring human celebrations into their lair.
But though Trima dragons had more freedoms, the fight wasn’t won yet. In fact, it looked like things were about to heat up. If so, they were going to need every Trima dragon fighting.
That was going to be a shock for these youngsters.
He stared around at them, at the soft, pouting faces. How could he make them see? How could he get through to them?
Patrima pulled a bauble off the tree and juggled it in his hands. “Don’t you get it? There’s no time for this… this pitiful human game.”
Their expressions didn’t change.
Well, one or two did look more mutinous.
Frustration welled up in Patrima, and without thinking, he threw the bauble he held in his hand against the cave wall. It smashed into tiny fragments, the sound it made loud in the sudden silence, drawing a squeal from one of the children.
“These games are for children. Human children. Not dragons. Grow up, all of you.”
He threw another one, just for good measure. The expressions on all their faces were shocked now, and they looked at one another in disbelief.
Good. Maybe he was finally getting through to them.
One of the children started crying, the sound twisting at Patrima’s gut, dredging up painful memories.
He’d cried like that once. Like his world was going to end because he wouldn’t have a tree, and presents, and all the things the humans had.
Like it wasn’t better to be a dragon.
His father had yelled at him. Ultrima had too.
And yet now, Ultrima was apparently accepting this human tradition in the middle of the dragon lair.
Patrima’s mouth twisted. He knew why. The others might think that Ultrima had softened his stance, that he had come to realise how getting along with the humans could benefit the dragons, but Patrima knew better. This wasn’t about getting on with humans at all.
It was what they could gain from breeding with humans.
In truth, Patrima could see why it was hard for the desperate leader to pass up.
What he couldn’t see was why they had to take on human culture. The humans who had come here to the lair had been offered a wonderful opportunity to be with dragons. They should be embracing dragon culture, not trying to force dragons to embrace theirs.
Like he and his mother had done when they’d moved here.
No one had brought him a tree and decorated it. No one had sung him Christmas carols.
No one had given him even one present.
And while it might have made him cry at the time, he could see now that it was how he’d ended up tough.
He was doing that kid a favour.
He was doing all of them a favour. The only way Trima clan was going to survive, much less win this war, was if they were dragons. Tough dragons.
“Go on, cry,” he scorned. “But how are you ever going to end up a big, tough dragon if you’re more worried about pretty baubles than defending our clan leader?”
The girls were staring at him in half fear, half awe. The men looked a little shamefaced.
Good. Hopefully they’d give up all this merriment and he could go back to his chamber and get some rest. He was due to guard Prince Taurian’s Mesmer chamber again in the morning. He didn’t need all this interrupting his sleep.
“What harm does a tree do? What’s wrong with a little fun? Fun never hurt anyone.”
A woman’s voice.
A human voice.
She even stood up and put her hands on her hips and glared at Patrima.
Apparently mating a dragon had made her think she was invincible.
She didn’t see the nervous expression on her mate sitting behind her, or maybe she would have been more cautious.
Patrima took a few steps towards her, glad to see her shrink back a little, to glance behind her at her mate. The dragon stood up, as though he had some thought to defend her.
A few days ago, Patrima might have blamed her lack of fire on being a human. But the human woman he’d met yesterday put that idea to bed. He was pretty sure she would have climbed down into that canyon herself if he hadn’t showed up.
She was ready to do whatever she needed to protect her people.
On top of that, she’d been the most attractive woman he’d ever met, dragon or human.
This human would be nothing beside her.
“Distractions get dragons killed,” Patrima said.
He leaned in close to her, and her eyes widened as they fell on the scar that crossed over his left eye. Luckily the dragon claw that had made it hadn’t been close enough to damage his eye, or he would have had no chance to heal it without the Mesmer. “I know all about the danger of distraction, and if you were a dragon, you might too.”
He shifted his glare to her mate. A young man, early twenties, he hadn’t seen a battle yet.
He knew nothing about what it really meant to be a dragon. To defend your clan.
All he knew was how useful his heritage was to entice human mates. All of them were excited to discover that the man or woman they were falling for was a dragon. It set their pulses racing and made their hearts pound.
It made them fall in love at the drop of a claw or the wink of a dragon eye.
How would the human woman, Hailey, have reacted if he’d told her he was a dragon? He’d half expected her to discover his true nature, first when he’d used his dragon claws to cling to the cliff face in the canyon, then when the boy he’d rescued had mentioned seeing a dragon.
He needed to tell Ultrima about that. If more humans came sniffing around the canyon, where one of the Rian princes slept, then they could have a problem.
But Hailey hadn’t considered the possibility of it being true for even a minute. She mustn’t have seen his claws. It had been quite dark in the canyon.
Probably lucky. The last thing he needed right now was to turn into a simpering mess over a human woman, like the dragon standing in front of him.
Patrima had to give it to the young dragon though, he didn’t back down, even though he stank of fear. “Leave her alone. She didn’t mean any harm. If you don’t want to celebrate Christmas, then don’t. But the rest of us can do what we want. Ultrima already said it was okay.”
“Ultrima is pandering to you all,” Patrima said flatly. He stalked away from the couple and glared around at the assembled humans and dragons. “He figures if he encourages your frivolities and your distraction, your mating with humans, that he might get an
other life dragon out of it. That’s all you are to him, breeding stock.”
He saw their eyes widen. Saw the shock on human and dragon faces alike.
A few claws slipped out of human form hands.
Patrima was coming dangerously close to being attacked, and he didn’t care.
It was true. And it was about time they all realised it.
It was only after his parent’s union had produced a life dragon, Patrima’s younger sister, that Ultrima had changed his stance on mating with humans.
Patrima was sure he thought if they could get a few life dragons, then their victory over Rian clan was assured.
And perhaps it was. A life dragon, able to induce fear in their enemies and manipulate their minds, gave them a distinct advantage over the Rian dragons, who hadn’t been able to breed one in more than four hundred years, despite their best efforts.
But that would take years.
It didn’t matter that Ultrima had a loyal group of lightning dragons, like Patrima, ready to put their lives on the line for him and his princess. They were worth nothing compared to a life dragon.
Patrima scowled, adrenaline humming through his veins.
He was ready for them. He’d take any of them on. Or all of them.
But they hung back, not quite game to make a move.
Patrima clenched his fists. Pity. A good fight was just what he needed right now to take his mind off that human. Maybe all they needed was a little more encouragement.
He reached out and grabbed a loose piece of tinsel, its shiny red and green cheerfulness taunting him. It took only a small tug for the tree to topple, hitting the ground with a pleasing thump, the sound of more glass baubles smashing only improving it.
“Stop acting like humans and start being dragons,” he demanded.
“What is going on here?” Ultrima’s voice boomed behind Patrima, causing his adrenaline to spike again, this time uncomfortably.
Patrima turned around slowly, determined not to give the older dragon, leader of their clan, any hint that he suddenly felt like a nervous child again. “I was a little surprised at your agreeing to this… this frivolity, when we are on the verge of war with Rian clan.”
Ultrima’s silver eyes bored into him, and Patrima had the uncomfortable feeling the old dragon could see right through him.
Well, he had nothing to hide.
“I have been at war with Rian clan for over three hundred years. If we halt our lives for war, we are the ones who lose. Trima clan needs to remain strong and united. Only together can we win.”
“You mean only once you’ve bred a few more life dragons.”
There was a shocked silence in the room, the sound of Patrima’s heart thumping loud in his ears.
Well, it was the truth. That was the only possible reason Patrima could see for Ultrima’s encouraging dragons mating with humans.
He straightened his back and stared at the clan leader defiantly.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Ultrima’s voice was dangerously quiet now.
Patrima had heard the sound before. He was on dangerous ground.
But he was tired of staying quiet. Of following orders.
Ultrima was hiding his true motives for allowing a connection with the humans. Patrima wanted everyone to see it.
“That’s why you’re encouraging all this.” Patrima waved a hand to encompass not only the tree, but the humans as well. “You’re hoping that more life dragons will be born from these unions, but even if they do, they won’t be in time to help in the coming battle. And we don’t need them. We’re already strong enough to defeat Rian clan. We don’t need any help from the humans.”
Ultrima raised an eyebrow. “You believe that I’ve allowed our clan to mate with humans and engage in human celebrations because I want more life dragons?”
“What other explanation is there?” Patrima demanded.
Ultrima stared at him, his eyes whirling. “It couldn’t possibly be that I want the dragons in Trima clan to be happy, to be with those they love, whether they’re dragon or human, even if I can’t?”
Patrima’s eyes narrowed. The old dragon had been obsessed with waking the Rian princess for three hundred years, dipping in and out of the Mesmer, sometimes for years at a time. In fact, he’d just been woken from a long stretch of sleep a few days ago, when they’d realised that another confrontation was imminent.
Patrima didn’t know how he stood it. If his love had been sleeping in a Mesmer chamber guarded by the enemy, he would be out attacking them every day until they were all dead.
It was hard to believe he would have just given up, as he was insinuating.
He stared at Ultrima, and suddenly he saw him differently. Their venerated leader was weak, tired, old.
“Perhaps you’re getting soft in your old age. Or perhaps you’ve been alone too long and you have given up hope of achieving your dream.”
“When you’ve been around as long as I am, you realise that time is just a trick. A way of forcing your hand, like a timer in a game of chess,” Ultrima said calmly. “Once you can step outside of that, you realise that time doesn’t matter, only the goal does. I am encouraging the human celebration because it is lifting everyone’s spirits. We have guards on the Mesmer chamber. The humans are not going to make their move during Christmas. There is nothing to be done right now. So relax, enjoy yourself.”
Patrima stared at him in disbelief. Didn’t he get it? “I don’t need human pastimes to enjoy myself. I’m quite happy being a dragon.”
Ultrima raised one eyebrow. “Are you trying to deny your human heritage? Aren’t you the little boy who cried for a Christmas tree? Why aren’t you happy that you finally have one?”
The dragons and humans in the room looked at him accusingly.
Patrima felt his face burning. Trust Ultrima to bring that up. He was the one person in this room who was old enough to know that.
But how could Ultrima possibly think that this might make him happy?
Maybe that would have worked when he was five years old. But he wasn’t a pitiful human child anymore. He was a dragon. He’d learned to be tough. Not to need all that.
“That human heritage makes me weak, as you yourself pointed out,” Patrima spat. “It has taken me a long time to be strong enough to overcome it. I don’t want to return to that time.”
Ultrima regarded him thoughtfully. “So that’s your problem? You’re angry enough over a decision I made when you were a child, that you’re going to deny all these half human children the same thing? All the noise about me trying to breed life dragons is just to cover up the fact that really, deep down, you’re an angry little five-year-old boy who was denied his Christmas, and now you don’t want anyone else to have it either.”
Fury built up in Patrima, and he had to clench his fists to stop himself unleashing it all at the clan leader.
“I am a dragon warrior,” he said stiffly. “One of your best. I’ve proved myself many times over. I have nothing to cover up. I just want to get on with it. I’m ready to fight. You just need to give me something to fight. I don’t see the Rian dragons wasting time celebrating Christmas. No, they’re readying for battle. As we should be.”
“There is more to winning a fight than being the strongest warrior.” Ultrima’s calm voice was nearly as maddening as the dribble he was sprouting. “If we give up everything that makes life worth living, then what do we have to fight for?”
“For victory. For justice. For love. Isn’t that what you always said?” Patrima said mockingly. “Or have you given up on that too?”
“Look around you.” Ultrima waved a hand to indicate the assembled group. “Don’t you see love here? Mothers and fathers, children, happiness. Don’t you see? While we have this, we already have victory.”
There he was, covering it up again. Talking nonsense that everyone was lapping up simply because they wanted to believe it. Because they wanted to have fun instead of doing the hard w
ork.
He took a step towards Ultrima. “Rian clan aren’t sitting around celebrating themselves for having achieved an imaginary victory. They’re preparing to wake their princes and princesses. To wake your love, and take her away from you. And you want to celebrate? You’ve lost it. You’re old and senile. Maybe it’s time you handed leadership over to someone capable of leading Trima clan to the victory we deserve. Let us win your princess back for you.”
“Are you challenging me?” Ultrima’s voice was dangerously quiet, but Patrima wasn’t afraid.
Adrenaline flooded his veins. This was it. His chance. He could prove that he had what it took to not only defeat his enemies, but lead his clan to victory. He straightened his shoulders, and stared into his leader’s eyes. “Maybe I am.”
In reality, he’d half thought the old dragon might realise the truth of the situation, and step aside. There was no reason he couldn’t await his princess here in luxury while the younger, more capable dragons won this war for him.
No such luck. Sparks flashed in Ultrima’s silver, dragon eyes. He didn’t say a word. But when he lifted his hand, lightning arced from the rocks around him, converging on his outstretched palm.
Patrima’s heart thudded in his chest as he drew in his own power. He was ready for this. He could do it. Ultrima was old where Patrima was fresh and young.
But he didn’t have time to unleash his own magic. As the power built in Ultrima’s hand, all he had time to do was duck and roll, trying desperately to get away from the ball of condensed lighting that Ultrima threw at him.
The gasps of those around him were distant. Pain lanced through Patrima as the ball of lightning hit his rear end. The smell of burning material and flesh filled his nostrils.
“You think you are ready to challenge me, yet you cower on the ground like a frightened rabbit,” Ultrima sneered. “You’d better run, little rabbit, before my next strike hits.”
Rage filled Patrima. He wasn’t cowering. He’d ducked. There was a difference.
He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain burning his skin. But before he could make his move, Ultrima blasted him again. First on one shoulder, then the other, knocking him back. The blasts stung, but they didn’t really hurt. They were designed to incapacitate, not kill.