Page 36 of Mad Dragon of Chaos

Tyche lifted both hands and frantically waved them. “No! No! I don’t mean never tell her. I’m saying don’t lead off with it. There’s no need to start off with, This is Tyche, God of Luck. But you know, maybe tell her later. In secret. After I’m gone.”

Shey’s shoulders shook with silent laughter and he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. I⁠—”

“Excuse me, Your Highness. More messages have arrived from the palace, and there’s another message from Admiral Kent.”

Tyche wanted to groan at the interruption, but he couldn’t. Shey was a prince first, and his kingdom was in the middle of being attacked. He needed to focus on protecting his people and kicking the Order ships out of his harbor. Not worrying about a neurotic little god who might be developing his first crush.

Of course, that logic didn’t stop him from shooting a dark look at the first mate, who’d been conscripted to act as Prince Shey’s assistant. The poor man winced, pulling his shoulders in as if to make himself smaller.

“Thank you, Blevins. I’ll be down in a moment.”

Prince Shey turned as if he meant to continue their conversation, but Tyche waved him off. They were just making silly chitchat. His job was more important. He snagged Shey’s arm and turned the prince toward the stairs that would lead below deck and to the meeting room he’d claimed to assess reports and issue orders.

Tyche pressed his hands to Shey’s back, giving him a gentle push. “No, you go deal with all of it now. It looks like we’re going to be docking soon, and you’re going to get busier.”

Shey smirked at Tyche over his shoulder but didn’t argue as he returned to the lounge decorated in various shades of blue. There was a medium-sized table in the center that was now covered in scattered sheets of paper, two laptops, and Shey’s newly acquired cell phone.

“Have all the ships reported in?” Shey demanded the second he entered the room. A hardness permeated his voice that hadn’t been there during their chat.

Blevins nodded and gathered up two sheets of paper from the mess. “All ships accounted for. Only the Galway is reporting some minor damage. Problems with one of her engines. The captain expects to be fully operational within two hours. Admiral Kent has ordered the Etesian and the Boreas to move in as support in the event the Order realizes there’s a problem and tries to take advantage of it.”

“Very good.” Shey dropped into his seat and pulled one of the laptops closer. “What about the freighter?”

“She’s safely out of the blockade with two warships acting as escort to Shadowfen.”

Tyche had been about to sit on the azure sofa when he heard Blevins’s response. “You got another ship out of the blockade?”

Shey winked at him. “Haru is very good at creating distractions and chaos. The Order moved its ships to better guard against Haru’s attacks and try to come after us. It created an opening we could use to get supplies and soldiers down the coast to where the invaders have made landfall.”

Tyche wagged a finger at Shey as he dropped onto the sofa with a bounce. “Sneaky.”

The prince tipped his chin up and smirked. “I have my moments.”

That was an understatement, but Tyche wasn’t about to say that out loud. The man was cocky enough. Instead, Tyche picked up the silver coffeepot from a nearby tray and poured himself a steaming cup of coffee made from the very last of the beans Drayce had stolen out of the Erya royal pantry. They weren’t Besan beans, but he had to admit they were damn good. He might be a bit jealous of Rayne for all of his height, brains, and good looks, but he was willing to concede that the royal advisor had good taste in coffee.

Comfortably seated, Tyche was content to watch the prince as he contacted a variety of advisors, generals, captains, and even a couple of admirals to get the lay of the land. It was a marvel the way Shey quickly took in information, weighed it, and shot out orders. In the blink of an eye, the arrangement of ships was adjusted to take into account the damage Haru had wrought on the Order’s navy.

But the more troubling things were early reports that there were spies and assassins from the Federation of Order creeping through the city. Until now, the threat to Caspagir had largely been limited to the navy. However, now there was a danger to innocent civilians that Shey was eager to put a stop to. There was also some news coming from beyond the city walls to the northeast that foreign troops and machinery had been unloaded from ships and battalions of foot soldiers were gathering in preparation to launch attacks on some of the smaller cities outside of Sirelis.

The tricky part about invading Caspagir was getting around the country’s natural barriers. Along the kingdom’s eastern border, running from north to south, was a thick chain of mountains that were almost impossible to cross by land unless you were willing to load everything up on pack mules and goats. And even then, there was no getting tanks and heavy equipment through. Just men and what they could carry on their backs.

To the west was the Ordas, which was covered in thick jungle and creatures determined to eat your face. It was far more passable than the mountains, but incredibly deadly.

The fastest route to the capital was by sea, but any enemy invaders faced Caspagir’s formidable navy. Tyche hadn’t watched the development of New Rosanthe’s and Caspagir’s naval forces, but he’d listened to more than a few armchair warriors debate the strengths and weaknesses of the two over a few pints of beer. Regardless of whether they called themselves the Federation of Order or New Rosanthe, the result was the same—they were in for a hell of a fight.

As Tyche was finishing his coffee, the sound from the yacht’s engines changed, and the ship slowed.

“We’re docking,” Shey announced without looking up. “Please go see if the car has arrived yet.”

Blevins straightened and saluted. “Yes, Your Highness.”

As soon as they were alone, Tyche put his mug on a nearby table and darted across the room. His heart was pounding at his own daring. But if Shey could do it, he could as well, right? It was only fair.

He braced one hand on the table near Shey to steady his balance and leaned in close, acting as if he were trying to read over the prince’s shoulder.

“Shey?” Tyche whispered.

Shey lifted his head to gaze at Tyche, and the God of Luck pressed his lips to Shey’s soft, parted ones, stealing a kiss. For a heartbeat, Shey remained frozen, but as Tyche was doubting himself, Shey relaxed and eagerly returned the kiss. Tyche started to draw away, but a warm hand cupped his cheek, holding him in place so Shey could steal several more passionate kisses that were turning Tyche’s knees into jelly. The prince wouldn’t mind if he just climbed into his lap. Standing and kissing was difficult. Kissing would be much easier from Shey’s lap.