“Because of what I am,” I finished. “I want my mates to want me for me.” More words tumbled out before I could stop them.“And I don’t want to spend another evening being reminded that I’m the only female born since the Curse broke. The only thing anyone cares about is whether I can carry daughters to term. They want to know if we’re truly free of the Curse, or if?—”
“Portia,” my mother said sharply.
Dad’s expression hardened. “The Curse is broken. Mullo is dead.”
“Then why am I the only one?” I challenged. “Twenty-three years, and no other females. The healers gossip. The covens whisper. They think?—”
“It doesn’t matter what they think,” Father cut in, his voice like ice.
But it did matter. It mattered that Mum had nearly died bringing Malcolm and me into the world. It mattered that the seizures and bleeding she’d suffered during labor had looked exactly like the curse Mullo engineered. It mattered that every dragon in the world watched me like I was the last ember in a dying fire.
Mum spoke, something fierce in her eyes. “Your mates will want you for you. Fate always sees to that.”
The itch built. I dug my fingers into the arm of my chair so I wouldn’t claw at my skin. “Then I’ll meet them when fate wills it. There’s no need for another formal dinner.”
“You’re going,” my father said firmly.
Wood creaked, and I loosened my grip on the chair before I broke it. My beast stirred, the itch growing unbearable. I knew if I looked under my sweater, I’d see scales rippling over my skin. “Malcolm is unmated, but you don’t put him through this shite!”
Mum gasped. Dad raised a brow.
“It’s barbaric,” I added, jerking my gaze between my fathers. “You’re both medieval.”
Dad shrugged. “I’m a fair bit older than that.”
My father leaned forward, his dark eyes pinning me in place as his voice went low. “You’re going to dinner, and you’re going to sit and be pleasant to our guests.”
The itch became a thousand fire ants stinging my skin. I jumped to my feet. “I said I’m not going!”
“I will tie you to the chair myself.” For a second, fire swirled in his eyes. “Don’t test me, lass.”
White-hot fury exploded in my chest. My dragon roared, clawing at my ribs. “You’re not the king!” I shouted.
My mother put a hand over her mouth. Dad’s eyebrow climbed higher, and he almost looked sorry for me as a heavy silence descended.
My heart fluttered. I’d crossed a line, and we all knew it.
The temperature in the room plummeted. The next time I exhaled, my breath formed a cloud in front of my face. Whispers rose, half a dozen voices overlapping. They twisted around me, lifting the fine hairs on my skin. The language was odd and unsettling, the words writhing and crackling.
At last, my father moved, rounding the desk in a whisper of fabric and magic. My knees loosened, but I forced myself to meet his stare as he stopped in front of me. Like the rest of our kind, I was tall for a female, but Father was taller, and he loomed over me like the shadows he liked to frequent.
Somehow, I found my voice. “I’m sorry?—”
“Who do you think guarded the throne while our king was lost to the fire?” he asked softly.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Father would never hurt me. The man who’d carried me on his shoulders through zoos and amusement parks and the halls of House Balfour would never, ever raise a hand to me. I knew that with absolute certainty. But his anger was cold and tightly coiled. Inky black and exquisitely controlled.
I’d inherited his hair—and nothing else. He hid his disappointment well, but it peeked out every now and then. Sometimes, Niall Balfour didn’t quite manage to hide.
Still, I couldn’t sit through another dinner. I couldn’t dance afterward, my dragon thrashing under my skin as I let myself get passed from one hungry-eyed male to the next. I couldn’t walk a gauntlet of dragon shifters who’d spent a thousand years watching their species dwindle only to see it saved—and then crushed again when I was the only female born in the two decades since the Curse was broken.
They’d believed we were saved. And now, the future dangled by a thread. Everyone waited for me to find my mates. Everyone watched, all eyes on me with my broken, unstable dragon.
Shame tightened my throat as I lifted my chin. “I know you’re powerful, Father. You taught me how to lead. But you also taught me that only the weak resort to bullying.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Pain. Then it was gone, replaced by onyx and anger. But I’d seen the flash of raw emotion. I’d hurt him. Maybe it was better than disappointing him.
Mum appeared at my side, her fingers gentle as she took my arm. “Come with me, sweetheart.”
