As Graylan ruffled with indignation, mouth open as if to say something, Slath nodded with feigned seriousness. “Indeed.”
“You asked me to come. You asked me into your quarters. I don’t do anything you don’t ask for, and wouldn’t it be a crime to disregard the whims of a prince?” Graylan deflated a little.
Still, it was what Slath wanted, even if their father had forbidden it. Graylan, as the family’s healer, came around often, and each visit came with a stern warning to stay away from Slath, to keep his distance, a message from Kineer to all the brothers to never allow them alone. And Graylan had, for his part, avoided Slath until he went to ground.
“Whatever it is going on between you two needs to wrap up, then.” Galatan huffed. “If Slath winds up with an unplanned clutch, I won’t hesitate to put my claws to your throat.”
Graylan held up his hands, mouth moving soundlessly as he searched for words. His eyes, two empty voids, were so hard to read, a reason he’d never be fit for Slath.
“What’s the big deal? Don’t we live forever? Until we aren’t needed? Why is being together such a sour spot?” Varis, asking the real questions, gestured about as Graylan tensed up and stood abruptly, stalking off with pain written all over his every feature.
They all sat quietly as Slath answered for them, gesturing at his eyes. “This means he—the eyes.”
Asha stared at him, head tilted. Varis reached for Slath’s hand as the brother searched for an answer with a gesticulating free hand. “Not all dragons are capable of shifting to a humanform. They’re wild dragons. We guard the lands they live in and keep their populations down and low. Occasionally some reproduce.”
“Graylan was born from wild dragons. They found him as a kid half shifted trying to play with local village children. He’d picked up broken Elander but was a feral child and raised by our grandfather because his wild magic made him unusually suitable for healing.” Draenvir frowned.
“I was raised by humans. So was Varis. What’s the big deal?” Asha sat up a little straighter.
Uncomfortable silence spread about.
“Wild dragons do not have mates. They do not court. Wild dragons rape and pillage. No matter how civilized his human form becomes, his dragon will always be dangerous.” Galatan stood and stretched, his bulky, wide form obscuring the waning light from a hall sconce as he shuffled out. “Isn’t it, Slath?”
Slath’s face hardened, and he glanced away, eyes moving toward the busted-out windows. “I’ll measure those in the morning and do you a lovely new leaded stained glass to replace them. Perhaps each modeled after your lovely eggs.”
Question unanswered, Slath stood and walked out, stalking off the direction Graylan went, shoulder-bumping Galatan as he did so.
Varis frowned, an ache of frustration humming between them in the bond they shared. His dragon didn’t like the scorned love.
Lapryda sighed raggedly from his spot and leaned onto Draenvir. “Slath deserves so much better. Some ignoble beast.”
Asha, gaining a little courage, stood abruptly. “I’m getting some clothes and gathering the children. And considering what I came from, how I was raised, and the filth I’ve been adjacent to, I’d be ashamed to speak like that of another dragon.”
He passed the egg he held gently off to Varis, who nestled their clutch together. Varis, who said nothing, nodded to his ashen brother-in-law in solidarity, and an awkward silence spread.
There, Draenvir, Galatan, Rath, and Lapryda found quiet reason to leave with a muttered apology.
“It’s… It’s hard to explain, Varis.” Ghreid met his mate’s eyes and earned a quiet nod.
“I won’t pretend to understand dragon culture, but what those two have going on isn’t anything I’d be ashamed of. I know royalty does things differently, and regency is under different expectations…” Varis shook his head. “Nevermind. Let Slath be happy.”
Ghreid would, but he feared he’d have to pick up the pieces when it was all over, and Slath would be left alone and sad.
Chapter Thirty-One
Varis
He was loath to leave his eggs, but when the king of Monsmount summoned him, Ghreid and Rath, they did their best. With Slath and Asha dutifully guarding their nest, of course.
Falustus had returned to the estate the day after the events, pale and worn. “Just… Tell them the truth. Lurin…”
Varis had tried to get more from him, but Falustus was remarkably glib.
“They wanted you and your children dead as a statement to garner control of the nation. They tried to get Lurin to kill you and the eggs… Just tell them Baltheir spoke to the boy and revealed to him another path and the other priests were eaten as a testament to their lack of faith or some other bullshit.” Lust handed Varis a letter from Lurin himself and shrugged. “This has the names of who died.”
Varis agreed, and kept the letter tucked on him until time to leave.
They rode wyvernback to the king’s castle and sat in wait for bare moments before the king bustled in, no longer a fan of making them wait for posturing’s sake. And at his sides were two ostentatiously dressed Baltheirian priests. Pretty high up, if Varis had any guess.
