“I’ll represent the Crystal Dragons alone tonight,” Dusk scowled as they walked, the topic apparently not easing his mind. “There aren’t any left in France since King Markus Ambrose of the Czech Crystal Dragons battled King Lorenz DuVir in their blood-feud back in the 1600’s and won this very palace. Markus is still King of my Lineage, and he doesn’t need wealth or new allies; he owns a generous amount of the precious gem mines in both the human and Twilight Realm, and can buy all the power he wants. That’s why he sold this palace off to the Hotel; he didn’t need it. And he doesn’t need Adrian’s friendship. Adrian invited King Markus’s retinue here tonight – the Austrian and Czech Crystal Dragon clans – but they’ve not responded.”
“So King Markus thinks he’s better than Adrian.” Layla mused.
“He knows he is.” Dusk glanced at her sidelong. “King Markus is a fantastic beast, Layla, and if you ever have a chance to meet him, tread carefully. He’s a slick, debonair bastard, and a fucking brute in a fight. He’s got the Austrian and Czech clans wrapped around his smallest talon. We know he’s watching both Adrian and I carefully – though we don’t precisely know to what end.”
“Why is the King of the Crystal Dragons watching you?” Layla asked as they rounded a wall of topiaries.
“I’m Clan First of the Crystal Dragons of Egypt, Layla.” Dusk gave her a frank glance as thunder rippled above, the sky swaddled in a heavy darkness now. “Though it’s by default, since I’m the only one left since my clan and the Tunisian clan killed each other off. There’s another Crystal clan in Saudi Arabia, but they’re generally not involved with Afro-European politics.”
Dusk fell into a brooding silence and Layla could only imagine what he was feeling. She’d heard about how he’d been found as child by Adrian’s father, wandering the Sahara and causing earthquakes after the battle that had killed his entire clan. Layla could only imagine what that battle had looked like – and what it had done to a six-year-old boy left orphaned after the carnage.
“Is King Markus your enemy?” Layla asked.
“Not yet.” Dusk nodded at a side-path past a row of glowing orbs and they angled to it. “I don’t think he considers me powerful enough of a rival just yet.”
“So how powerful is he?”
“You know that every Twilight Lineage has a dominant,” Dusk spoke, glancing at Layla. “Someone at the pinnacle of the Lineage who is called King or Queen. It’s separate from having Royal magic, though dominants are often also Royals. Among Dragons, someone who carries the title King or Queen has either been appointed by a vote of Clan Firsts, or fought their way to the top of the pecking-order through dominance battles.”
“Let me guess. King Markus Ambrose was definitely not voted in.” Layla spoke, wondering what kind of person he was to have battled his way to the top of his entire Lineage.
“Markus rules well, but I don’t think anyone would vote someone like him into a dominant spot. He has a cruel streak, and doesn’t hesitate to use it.” As Dusk spoke, a wash of iridescence flowed through his dark hair. He wasn’t saying more, and Layla wondered what his tense silence held. Clearly, Dusk had a past with King Markus Ambrose, and Layla wondered how bad it was. Or what King Markus might have done when Dusk’s entire clan had died – to put Dusk in his place and ensure loyalty as a new Clan First.
“Who else will be present?” Layla spoke, changing the topic away from bad memories.
“Blood Dragons,” Dusk gave a lighter smile as he angled them down a side-path, orbs brightening as a flicker of lightning flashed above. “The Swedish clan is here with their King – Huttr Erdhelm, Rikyava’s uncle – and the Danish clan is supposed to show from Copenhagen. The Danes were supposed to confirm their arrival in Paris, but of course they haven’t. Try asking Danish Blood Dragons to do anything by the book and get that book thrown back at you on fire, along with a severed head. But they love parties, especially any they can crash unexpectedly, so I’m assuming they’ll be here.”
“That paints a good picture.” Layla laughed, enjoying Dusk’s wit. Even though he was in a strange mood, he was also trying his best to be lighthearted. Suddenly, Layla understood what his multitude of lovers saw in him. Dusk was witty, debonair, charming – and deeply thoughtful. Layla cuddled closer to him, enjoying his steady warmth in the stormy night. He glanced down at her, a subtle smile curling his lips as his tension eased. Layla could smell cool rivers as she glanced at him. He gave her a sidelong smile, pleasure in his eyes that she had cuddled close.
“What else would you like to know before we arrive?” He murmured.
“What other clans will be there?”
“We’ll have a delegation of Ice Dragons from St. Petersburg,” Dusk continued as they took a flagstone path through a manicured forest that abutted the topiary gardens. Cedars, leafless elms, and oaks towered above as they followed a path of firefly pedestals. “Ice Dragons are as showy as Desert Dragons. And theyloveseduction and manipulation nearly as much as they love vodka – you’ve been warned.”
“Noted.” Layla nodded with a small smile as they continued onward. “Who else?”
“The Storm Dragons of France will be here tonight. The Storm Dragon Queen has a clan-estate at Chambord, and she’ll be here tonight with a portion of her retinue.”
“Let me guess, she lives at Château de Chambord,” Layla snorted with a wry smile. “Except in the Twilight Realm.”
“Queen Justine Toulet is aligned with Adrian,” Dusk nodded, confirming her statement, “though she’s old, and a few of the younger drakes are trying to challenge her, so we’ll see about the future. Storm Dragons are robust and tend to be elegant and level-headed – until you piss them off. I’d recommend not doing that. Be frank with them and pleasant, but no shenanigans – not like you can pull with Blood Dragons.”
“Got it. Who else?”
“Our Head Courtier Reginald Durant will be there,” Dusk’s brow furrowed and another branch of lightning flashed far above the manicured forest, as if outlining his tension. “Representing the North Sea Sirens.”
Layla’s brows knit as she glanced at Dusk. “Rikyava told me Reginald was a Siren months ago, but she didn’t elaborate on what that is. Aren’t Sirens like mermaids?”
“Not at all.” Dusk corrected with a wry smile. “Sirens are an ancient offshoot of the Dragon Lineage. Though they hate to be reminded of it,Chiari drachans-sirenniare just as Dragon as you and I. They’re sea-Dragons. Closely related to Leviathans, which are an offshoot of the Siren Lineage, but different enough that Leviathans are not considered within the Dragon genus. Leviathans don’t have a human form. Sirens do.”
“So the Head Courtier really is a Dragon.” As if she had called up Reginald Durant’s power, the Head Courtier’s oceanic feel came back to Layla suddenly. Seagulls called in her ears along with cold northern oceans, and in her mind’s eye his ice-pale eyes rose, piercing her to the quick. She shivered as a brisk wind shook the trees, and Dusk snugged her closer to his warm body. “I take it Sirens have very little sense of humor. Or at least Reginald.”
“They’re one of the Dragon Lineages you do not want to tease, yes.” Dusk nodded soberly as they continued past the pond. “They’re quite strong, very large when they change into their beast, and have mesmer abilities to boot. Thankfully, only Reginald will be there tonight, and he knows how to control his darker nature. Somewhat.”
“Who else?” Layla asked, musing on that.
“The only other clan present will be the Phoenix of Italy and Spain.” Dusk glanced over, his gaze eloquent. “Phoenix love harmony, but of all the Dragons, they are the quickest to fight when attacked. Their King, Falliro Arini, is an amazingly steady man despite his many centuries of stunning battle-prowess. Though he’s hard to get to know.”
