I shrug. “I have been so far.”
“That’s the worst argument I’ve ever heard.” Irritation flits across her features just as my dinner arrives. “Besides, there’s a first time for everything.”
“Like you downing a plate of meat?” Arran shoots over at her with a grin.
“One’s a personal—and digestive—preference,” she shoots back. “The other is life or death.”
“None of those advisors or nobles or soldiers attends the actual Council. They’re just useless additions—like this green thing on my plate.” I move the leafy intruder off my meat and set it aside. “No dragon shifter wants that.”
Idallia snatches it and pops it into her mouth. “Whatever I am does.”
“I’ve seen a lot in nearly six hundred years,” I tell her with utter seriousness. “But you’re the first to enjoy the garnish more than the meal.”
“Maybe it’s a sign of refined taste.” Her golden eyes sparkle as she chews.
Her effervescence bubbles alarmingly in my chest. “Well, then, Your Supreme Tastefulness, was it good?”
“Nope.” She swallows with difficulty. “I think it was grass.”
The whole table bursts out laughing except for Kellan. He stares at his plate.
My smile feels like it grows from an untended garden, blooming across my face. “Thank the stars, I finally know what to feed you. Grass it is.”
Idallia does her best to look aghast, barely keeping her grin from sneaking out and lighting up the room. “Don’t tell me you’re growing a sense of humor, Bale. It’ll be like a third horn that doesn’t fit your head.”
Her teasing heats me like a thermal bath hitting my night-chilled scales. She finally lets her smile loose, and my mind blanks of all witty replies.
Luckily, Arran saves the silence from lasting too long. “I’ll look for that third horn when we fly to Porthwood,” he jokes.
“Look too closely, and you might poke out an eye,” I grumble.
Arran just smiles wider, and everyone laughs, including Kellan, so I must’ve done something right.
After a lull in the conversation that I worry I’m supposed to fill, Danica turns the subject to Fanghaven, which might worry me even more. The second vampire kingdom is heavier in everyone’s thoughts right now because of the upcoming Council. It’s the same every year. “How can the Vampire Queen not have escaped Rannigan and Bloodwold by now? She’s had more than two hundred years.”
“What makes you think she can?” Arran asks.
“She’s starborn. She must be powerful. She’s a legitimate ruler from a goddess-chosen bloodline…” Danica shrugs. “Do you need more?”
All talking stops as servers arrive to clear what’s left of the main course and bring platters of fruits, breads, and cheeses to the table. Idallia immediately grabs some of everything as she says, “Rannigan took her as a baby. If she’s even still alive, Cealastra only knows what lies he’s put in her head. She might adore him and have been so isolated from the rest of the world that she thinks he saved her from…” Her gaze flicks to me. “You, probably.”
My heart thumps so hard there can’t be a dragon shifter in the room who doesn’t hear it. Then again, there’s a lot of noise in the dining hall.
“Ugh, that’s probably true.” Maia’s face falls as she turns to me. “If she ever appears, she might be your other number one enemy.”
“Or she might learn the truth and turn on Rannigan,” I counter. That would be ideal.
“If she’s even alive—like Idallia said. I’m not convinced.” Danica takes only bread and cheese and ignores the fruit, which is mainly offered for the non-dragon shifter residents of Drayke Mountain.
“The next Council should tell you more, right?” Idallia asks me. “If there’s a tied vote or violence among the rulers and Cealastra doesn’t show up to weigh in, we’ll know she’s really gone. In that case, maybe the Fanghaven survivor is too.”
“A starborn successor can’t be chosen for Fanghaven if Cealastra isn’t there to choose,” I cautiously agree.
“Then maybe Rexton Hale will finally get what he wants,” Kellan says from the far side of the table. “He can claim the throne without being starborn or Cealastra’s choice.”
“As long as the person upholds Fanghaven’s traditions, I don’t really care who’s on the throne.” Idallia’s color has improved after eating. She looked even paler than usual before. “Blood violence isn’t tolerated there, and that’s what matters. They should be our allies, like they were before.”
Her our sends an unexpected thrill through me. And I agree with her. I have no more issue with the way Fanghaven vampires procure their blood, whether it’s from a vein or a cup, than I do with how the vampires in Torridaig get their food. The problem is Bloodwold, where consent doesn’t matter, and kidnapping victims are sold to the highest bidders at underground blood markets and taken to households where they’re fed upon until they die.
