Good, Oliver thought.Better to die than be your child.
He said, “Is that why you’ve chosen, me, then? To rule Aquitainia. Because of my magic? Why not choose Náli? Or one of my cousins?”
“Your cousins I intend to wed to my sons. The old Drake blood comes from Seles, originally. My line crossed with the obvious magic of the Drakes should produce offspring capable of inheriting my power.”
Inheriting. Was his magic a token that could be given to someone else?
“If Marcellus and Amelia can produce a capable boy, I shall pass over my sons and name my grandchild heir.”
“This is assuming Amelia willingly couples with your son.”
“Willingness isn’t the issue,” Romanus said with a one-shouldered shrug. “It will happen. I must then pray for magic.
“With regard to my daughter,” he continued, locking gazes with Oliver, pushingsomethingthrough the air between them. Oliver felt the atmosphere shift, a cold prickling across his skin. Felt as though a hand touched his breastbone, under his robe.“Before her death, she gave birth to a son. One whom inherited her power.”
“You should find him, then. Installhimas king,” Oliver said, sourly.
“I intend to,” Romanus said.
But that…oh, that would mean…
“My daughter,” Romanus said, as the blood drained from Oliver’s face, “fled Seles for Aquitainia. Where she died her white hair gold, and pretended to be a servant, seeking succor with an undeserving Southern noble.”
“No,” Oliver said, quietly.
“The child was born with his father’s red hair, but both bloodlines possessed the ability to commune with dragons.”
“No. No, no, no—”
“I call you a whore because you are one, just like your mother. Debasing yourself every time you fuck someone of a lesser station. Of a lesser heritage. You take pride in King Erik naming you a Drake. You shouldn’t. You’re of greater importance than that.”
Oliver shut his eyes when the room started to spin. He welcomed the oncoming swoon. Couldn’t wait for it, actually.
But before it arrived, he heard Romanus say, voice ringing with authority off the walls of the solarium, “My daughter laid with the duke of Drakewell’s brother, and bore his child. Bore you. You’re my grandson, Oliver, and it’s past time you started living as such.”
16
“Get moving?” Reggie said. “Are you daft?”
Prince Leif didn’t look daft; he looked resolute, and angry, and also wet, because pond water was still dripping out of his snarled, golden hair. Reggie wished he wasn’t so lovely to look at, so he could maintain the proper degree of outrage.
“We still have to meet my uncle in Aquitaine,” Leif said, in a tone that suggested Reggie was being unreasonable. “Losing Amelia is unfortunate—”
“Unfortunate!?” Reggie exploded, throwing his hands in the air. His shout echoed off the wall of the chateau. “She’s likely dead, and we have three dragons with no riders, and no one to control them, and no one to carry psychic messages to our allies from the North, and you think it’sunfortunate?”
“I do.” Leif tucked his chin and straightened his shoulders. Defiant. Aggressive. A posture that told Reggie he ought not to push him. “Just as it’sunfortunatethat you’re reacting this way.”
“I’m—” Heat flooded his face. His already-frantic heartbeat skipped and stuttered. “I’m being perfectly reasonable, you sodding—hey! Let go of me!”
Connor did not let go. He used the arm he’d hooked around Reggie’s neck to drag him over toward the gates. When Reggie tried to dig in his heels, Connor pinched the top of his ear between thumb and forefinger, and Reggie was forced to go along with him, cursing him the whole way.
“You’re going to pay for this,” Reggie hissed, as Connor marched him forward, through the gates, and back down the road. “See if I ever touch your cock again.”
“You will. You like it too much to stay away,” Connor said, but without his usual lecherous glint. He sounded distracted. Troubled, even. And he looked it, too, when he finally deemed them far enough away, released Reggie’s smarting ear, and pivoted around to face him.
“Fuck you,” Reggie spat. “No, go fuckyourself—”
“Hush,” Connor said, still distracted, glancing back toward the gates over Reggie’s shoulder.
