Matthieu
Time betrayed Matthieu. It had moved in fits and spurts while he’d climbed over the portion of the fence not set afire in Alistair Drake’s back yard, then sped by in the blink of an eye when he’d brought the gnome crashing down on the villain threatening Darwin. In the hours following Sigric Brand’s heinous crime, it simply evaporated, disappearing into the air like smoke from a dragon’s nostrils. What little Matthieu could recall from those moments had been stripped down to broad bullet points—Alistair and Everard had called the council to report Sigric’s dual offense, Sigric had been removed from the property and transported to a containment unit to await his council hearing, and Geoffrey, solemn in a way he’d never been before, had parted from Matthieu and Ian’s side to call his father. As legal counsel of the Amethyst clan, as well as a witness to the day’s events, to do so was his duty.
“Soon, Father,” Matthieu overheard Geoffrey say as he and Ian went to gather their clutch. “All will be revealed soon.”
While Geoffrey hadn’t disclosed the day’s happenings in full detail, or his involvement in it, with Sigric on the warpath, they would have no choice but to disclose the mixed paternity of their clutch. The thought of what could happen if the council ruled against them made Matthieu sick, but he could not disagree—they wouldn’t be able to hide for the rest of their lives. Unlike with Snorre, who’d been exiled from China and shuffled around from place to place for having bonded with more than one omega, Geoffrey and Ian would not be allowed to fade into irrelevancy. Sigric would not stop until he’d destroyed his son’s happiness.
For their family, and for all the others like theirs, they would have to sway the council’s mind. Losing was not an option.
By the time Matthieu loaded his nestlers into the back of Ian’s vehicle and settled in for the drive back to Drake Commons, he was mentally and physically exhausted. By the time they arrived back home, Matthieu was entirely certain he’d never been more tired in his life.
“You should rest, kitten,” Ian said once they were through the door. He kissed Matthieu’s forehead. “Between laying our clutch and coming to Darwin’s rescue, you’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty over the last few days. What you need—what weallneed—is to take our minds off what’s happened and relax for just a little while.”
“Relax?” Matthieu frowned. “How could I begin to do something like that when our family is at stake? The council—”
“The council will make its decision whether we’re well-rested or dropping dead from exhaustion,” Ian countered. “It will be to our advantage if we manage to get some shut-eye before the clan heads arrive and the hearing is held. We’ll need all our mental faculties if we’re to make a good enough argument that the clan heads will side with us over one of their own.”
“Which means we have all the more reason to prepare our defense,” Matthieu retorted. Wanting badly to do something other than stand in the foyer, he adjusted the strap of the heaviest nestler—the one with their twin egg—and tucked it closer to his torso. The eggs felt better when they were nearer his skin. “The council will convene in no more than forty-eight hours, correct?”
“Yes,” Geoffrey said, butting into the conversation, “but that gives us more than enough time to sleep, at least for tonight. Over the last few months, we laid out the groundwork for a defense in anticipation that our clutch might be born Amethyst, and for now, that will have to do. The more exhausted we are, the more susceptible to burnout we’ll become, and if that happens, there’ll be no chance we’ll be able to put in the work necessary to make our point.”
Matthieu looked aside and took to tracing the brocade pattern of his nestler with his eyes, his jaw clenched. He knew that Geoffrey was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. “Dragons are supposed to be impervious to fire.”
“If only dragon fire and burnout were one and the same.” Ian kissed the top of his head. “All I’m asking is five hours’ sleep.”
“Six,” Geoffrey interjected.
Matthieu glared at him. “Do not push your luck,monsieur dragon.”
Ian snorted. “I believe he said six, kitten. As in, the number, not the act.”
Matthieu winced. Perhaps some sleep wasn’t a bad idea.
“In the morning, you can conduct all the research you’d like,” Geoffrey promised. “But for now, we owe our children our love. For them, we have to be strong.”
Of that, Matthieu was certain. Heart aching, he partially unzipped one of the nestlers slung from his shoulders and touched the egg inside with his fingertips. Overwhelming comfort and love flowed through him, stripping away the anxiety their situation had brought on.
“Yes, you’re right,” Matthieu said at length. He zipped the nestler to keep the egg safe and looked first at Geoffrey, then at Ian. Although their union hadn’t come about easily, he couldn’t imagine how empty his life would have been without these two intelligent, hilarious, irritating, and handsome men to share it with. Four short months ago, Matthieu had firmly believed that life with a dragon would be synonymous with a life of slavery. He’d been wrong. With Ian and Geoffrey, he was free to speak his mind and be himself.
For the first time in his life, he felt like he’d found his home.
“I will remind you,” Matthieu said on his way to the stairs, “a certain brother of yours has said that the twins must be heavily bonded with their parents to avoid the unthinkable. If I am forbidden from doing research, then so are you. Come spend time with our children,mon amour grincheux et mon amour stupide.It is time for us all to rest.”
And so it was that Matthieu, Geoffrey, and Ian settled into bed together, hearts and bodies stripped down as they curled around their five precious eggs. Even in turbulent times, there were instances of beauty, and as Matthieu watched Geoffrey and Ian lace their fingers together, hands rested over the marble-shelled miracle they’d brought into the world, Matthieu felt certain that he would remember this moment for the rest of his life.
* * *
Two days following Sigric Brand’s assault on Darwin and his trespass into Alistair Drake’s lair, Matthieu, his mates, and their eggs arrived at the council building. To Matthieu’s surprise, the council chamber was located on the seventh floor of a building containing several active offices. More than likely, he figured as he headed down the quatrefoil runner carpet to office 727, the property was owned by Grimbold Drake. Council meetings happened rarely, as far as Matthieu knew—once a month at most, unless circumstances dictated otherwise. It wouldn’t make economic sense to keep a building empty for such long stretches of time.
That, and with so many humans on the premises, no dragon in attendance would be tempted to transform regardless of how heated a council meeting became.
Geoffrey was the first to arrive at the door. He rolled his shoulders back and adjusted his posture, standing straighter than he had before. “Are we ready?”
“Yes.” Ian gave him a brisk nod.
“I am.” Matthieu tugged at the knot of his tie, then tamped his nerves down until he was sure they wouldn’t come back to bother him. The council had his life, and the lives of the ones he loved the most, in their hands, but Matthieu would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. Regardless of their decision, he would remain stony-faced and serious.
“No matter what happens today,” Geoffrey said, his voice strained with emotion, “I want you both to be aware that I love you and our clutch more than anything.”
