His voice comes out raspy and weak, barely above a whisper.
“Aching all over… every joint and every bone.”
I glance at my mother, and she meets my eyes. I can see the plea in them before I even speak. I ignore it.
“We could ask one of the human servants–”
“No,” he cuts me off. “Don’t even dare to mention it! Have you come here to ruin my day?”
I sit back and fold my hands in my lap. I feel a small spark of satisfaction at having provoked exactly the reaction I expected. I knew he would refuse. He always does.
It’s been known since ancient times that human blood cures dragon shifters of all kinds – a fact recorded in every medical text and proven through centuries of experience. In the past, dragons sacrificed humans for their blood, but that practice is illegal now and has been for generations. Still, some houses employ humans as servants, and no one cares if those humans are paid extra for a bit of blood to help with ailments. It’s a transaction that benefits both parties and harms no one. It happens all the time in noble houses across Aurumveil – a quiet exchange of coin for healing. Everyone knows about it; no one discusses it.
But my father is a purist. He finds humans abhorrent. He wouldn’t employ them at all if he didn’t have to. Dragons rarely work for other dragons. We’re too proud and territorial to serve our own kind, so humans remain the most accessible servants.My father would rather suffer and waste away than let human blood touch his lips. I make the suggestion just to watch him squirm and rage against the only thing that could save him.
“As you wish,” I say with perfect politeness.
He closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. His chest rises and falls in shallow gasps that rattle in his lungs. His hands continue to tremble, and I watch them with detached interest, noting how the tremors have gotten worse since my last visit.
I let a moment pass before I speak again, giving him time to compose himself and settle back into his misery.
“Actually, I came to inform you of a decision I’ve made.”
His eyes open and fix on me, as if he’s hoping for good news to offset the disappointment I’ve already delivered.
“I’ve decided to marry,” I say, and I watch his face carefully to see how it lands. “It’s time.”
His expression shifts, for a brief moment reminding me about the man he once was.
“About time. You’ve been Lord of House Aurellion for two years now, and the other lords don’t take you seriously. Too young, unmarried…”
“I’m aware of their opinions,” I say dryly.
He pushes himself up against the pillows, and his voice gains a bit of strength.
“House Silvercrest has a daughter just of age,” he says. “A beautiful girl with excellent bloodline and strong wings. Or, House Emberwing’s youngest is quite lovely, and the alliance would be strategically strong for both families. House Storm would also be an excellent choice. They have wealth and influence that would benefit our house, and their daughter has scales like rubies.”
“I was never interested in wyvern women,” I interrupt before he can continue listing eligible females from every noble house in the kingdom. “You know that, Father.”
He stops, and his mouth hangs open before he snaps it shut. I can see his mind working to process what I’ve just said.
“What are you saying?”
I meet his gaze and hold it without flinching.
“I have decided to take a human bride.”
For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then he sputters and tries to sit up fully, his whole body convulsing with the effort.
“You will not!”
My mother rushes to the other side of the bed and puts her hands on his shoulders, trying to push him back down with gentle pressure.
“Varrick, please. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
He shoves her away with more strength than I thought he had left. She stumbles backward with a small cry of surprise.
He reaches for me, his hands clawing at the air as he tries to strike me, but his body betrays him, and he rolls off the bed. He lands at my feet in a heap of blankets and trembling limbs. The sound of his body hitting the floor is both pathetic and satisfying.
