“Peace, my Royal Court. These two are unfamiliar with our ways, and have little knowledge of Crystal Dragon history and Lineage. We shall forgive them their impertinence, for now. But I am intrigued by a Crystal drake who has remained absent from my awareness so very long, after having once shown up so brightly in my dreams. And now he stands before me, a Royal Crystal drake with a powerful change flowing through his scales, and I wonder: did he stay off my radar simply to grow strong enough to take me down someday? Or was he just a coward, afraid of his King and hiding for his life in a brothel? What say you, young Arlohaim?”
“I say neither, my King.” Dusk spoke directly, though Layla could feel a deep rumble through the Bind – how much it had pissed Dusk off to be called a coward. “Containing my magics all these years was a necessary result of magical illness I incurred in my youth. A magical illness of severe pain and spasms that rose when I did not bleed my energy away in as many endeavors as possible.”
“Ever-busy as Head Concierge at the Paris Hotel,” the King smiled knowingly, “fucking everything that moved multiple times daily. Battling in the fight-halls beneath the grounds until you passed out from exhaustion – yes, I’ve heard the stories. Until you met someone.”
Those cunning eyes moved to Layla again, and she stood strong beneath the King’s piercing stare. That tiny smile quirked his lips again, before he returned to Dusk. “Why not simply shift in your youth and embrace your Dragon to halt the illness? Why not come to me and allow me to bless the drake you were becoming, rather than hide your tremendous gifts from the world?”
Layla thought that was slick, the way King Markus voiced it. Like he was some saint of a King who blessed his strongest warriors, rather than punishing them for being strong.
“Because I thought you killed Royals.” Dusk growled softly, his gaze fierce upon his King.
“And yet, clearly, you can see it is not so.” Gesturing to the court, Markus allowed Dusk and Layla to turn and look at his people. Layla saw now what she had glimpsed before – that nearly everyone at court had lines of bright color and gemstone Dragon-scales cascading from their temples and cheekbones, down their outer arms to the back of their hands, and across their collarbones. Some were nearly as Dragon-formed in their ornate finery as Norbu Gyatso, though none were as diamond-white or massively tall as the Tibetan monk in his Dragon-man form. But of them all, only Dusk had diamond-white in his eyes anywhere even close to King Markus or Norbu.
A sign of deeply mature power, Layla realized as she looked back to Markus.
King Markus knew it, as he watched her realize the shit they were pickled in. Layla and Dusk hadn’t just waded into a very large vat of shit; they’d dove in and gotten a mouthful, as Layla suddenly understood that all these Royal Crystal Dragons were directly under King Markus’ sway somehow. He had no non-Royals in his court. Even the youngest pages bringing around crystal carafes of wine had the start of scales blossoming at their temples, like Trevor from Arizona. As King Markus gave a low rumble of power, subtle and deep, Layla both felt and saw washes of iridescence flow through the scales and hair of everyone in the hall.
Proving to her and Dusk that King Markus had an army at his command – anytime, anywhere.
Dusk had gone pale though he stood his ground, watching his King but not responding to the obvious threat. Dusk’s eyes had gone a very dark sapphire, a look he got when he was stone-cold quiet, deeply controlling his every emotion and the power it manifested.
King Markus saw it, and with a bemused smile lifting the corners of his lips, he spoke to Dusk. “You are not challenging me with your power, in response to my threat.”
“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.” Dusk spoke bluntly, and the modernity of his cold, ultra-badass statement almost made Layla laugh.
“How can I be a terrorist within my own court?” Markus chuckled, though his gaze flashed at Dusk.
“Because your terror flows out into the hearts of every last member of your clans,” Dusk spoke solidly. “They’re terrified of you, and you use that terror to control them and get what you want. By all definitions, that makes you a terrorist, plain and simple.”
“You are too modern, my young drake,” King Markus spoke softly, something deadly in his gaze now. “I am not a tin man. I have a heart and care about my people. Have I ever once invaded the lands of my clans, or slain them to cause fear?”
“Have you ever once told your clans that you keep their Royals alive and close to you,” Dusk countered with a deadly grace, “letting them believe their loved ones are dead while you reap the benefits of all their combined Royal power?”
It was a blow far too close to home. Layla watched King Markus’ diamond-eyes flare with heat, as he actually flashed them like a snake about to strike. Whether Dusk had sensed it or had just made a very astute guess, he’d figured out something about King Markus that no one else had. That somehow, Markus kept all these Royals close to his person at the palace because he made use of them energetically, in a way that augmented his own power to phenomenal heights. But though Markus showed his ire, the next moment he settled, drawing up tall and staring Dusk down with a deceptively pleasant smile.
“I may do with my Royals as I wish, young drake. They all desire to serve me, and resonate their power with mine when I need them. Should you learn to do something similar with your magic one day, you could benefit from the might I enjoy. But alas, with the Trials I have planned for you this week… I pity you may never get the chance.”
With a cruel gleam in his eyes, King Markus turned from Dusk. Layla had thought they were about to be dismissed with that last punch in the face, but Markus wasn’t done. Gesturing with one hand, he invited Dusk to turn and look at a group of twenty or so women standing at the front of the hall in ridiculously ornate 1600’s garb. Standing beside them were nursemaids with all their children, nearly thirty youngsters and a handful of teenage and twenty-something men and women.
“Behold, my concubines and families.” King Markus spoke with a benevolent grace. Stepping down the last sapphire stair of the dais and moving towards them, the King took up the hand of an amazingly beautiful woman with long dark hair standing right at the front. Dressed in a rose-blush 1600’s gown fully embroidered with blush crystals and gold brocade, she made a deep curtsey to her King before rising upon his hand. Lovely, the scales at her high cheekbones and temples were sky-blue lined with rose-blush and gold, a beautiful contrast to her caramel-tanned skin. As the woman’s gaze found Dusk, her eyes a bright sky-blue like blue topaz, the family resemblance hit Layla like a freight train. The woman looked almost identical to the statue they had seen in Luxor of Dusk’s ancestor – and in those perfect aquiline features and full, soft lips, Layla saw Dusk.
“Dusk, my firstborn.” The woman spoke as she held Dusk’s gaze with a terrible, heartbreaking intensity. “So good of you to come visit your King. And it is good… for me to look upon you. As a man full-grown.”
The brevity of Sky Arlohaina’s welcome to her son made Layla’s skin crawl. Something was vastly not right as she watched Sky stare at Dusk with such a sad, awful intensity – and with such obvious heartache while still acting like the perfect little marionette concubine to the King. As Layla watched, Sky sank to her knees at her King’s feet, clasping her manicured hands in her lap and bowing her head like a slave. As she did, a passel of young children were unleashed from one of the maids, swarming all over her and hugging her with smiles.
“See all the robust children my Sky has given me,” King Markus commented with a possessive smile, as he tousled the dark hair of one little boy with surprisingly midnight scales at his temples, like Dusk. “Egypt was a simple place for such a beautiful drakaina, and such a strong Royal. But once I saw her, I could not let her leave my side. Of course, she was plotting against me with her peace treaties all along the Nile, and becoming mine was a far better fate than wasting her precious bloodlines in death. I have never once regretted my decision, after your mother proved her worthiness to me in her Trials. Many a long night has she graced my bed. And many a long year has she lived satisfied with all I have given her.”
“Thank you, my King. I have been graced by many blessings.” Sky responded by rote as King Markus lovingly stroked her black hair, done up in ornate sapphire and diamond clips at the side of her neck. The awfulness of it was suddenly too much for Layla. King Markus had basically just said to Dusk,watch me fuck your mother as much as I damn please,and his sweet petting of her was like a lord petting his favored dog – Dusk’s mother not worth any more to him than a good coursing-hound.
Layla’s stomach churned as she felt a terrible rumble build inside her. Dusk’s furious, blazing emotions were finally too much for him to contain, and as that rumbling growl spilled out of his perfect lips and rolled through the hall, the entire space shuddered to its roots. Far above, the massive chandeliers trembled with a delicate music as Royal Crystal Dragons shuddered all around.
Looking up from his petting of Sky Arlohaina, King Markus pinned Dusk with his diamond-white gaze.
And then gave the ugliest conqueror’s smile Layla had ever seen.
CHAPTER 26 – ALONE
Dusk and Layla had been dismissed from King Markus’ throne hall. Escorted by two different Crystal Dragon servants rather than Davira, they were taken in opposite directions the moment they were beyond the hall’s doors. With one last touch of fingertips, they were separated, to be kept in different quarters until Dusk’s Trials were finished. That last touch was agony as Dusk held her gaze, scared and steady all at once. Too soon, they were parted – Dusk and his escort disappearing around a corner as Layla was led on by hers.
