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“What power, Galen?”
His brows furrow and his pupils flatten, turning reptilian and sparking a pale blue. “What do you mean ‘what power’?” He sneers his angered words, and they sound clear in the vast, cold room, echoing off the jagged stone walls. “No one dares to question our claim to this territory. We have more wealth than we have room to store it.”
“Yes, but you miss my point, brother.”
“And what is that, Drago?” Cyrus’s curious voice utters his words carefully, as if testing out their taste before letting them pass his lips.
“We’ve been forgotten. You cannot perceive power if you have no memory of it. We sit alone in our castle, enjoying the spoils of our wealth, but it’s been too long brothers—far too long—since our names have been spoken.”
“And this sorcerer?” Galen’s disbelief is apparent. “What does he have to offer us?”
I wave my hand aimlessly in the air. The sorcerer spoke vaguely of glory and wealth, but it didn’t appeal much to me. “You dragged me from my chambers merely because of your boredom.” Galen runs a hand down his face. “You need a hobby.”
Cyrus’s wicked eyes find mine as a stealthy grin forms on his face. “Or better yet, someone to warm your bed.”
“If they don’t heat for me than I’m not interested.” My tone is flat.
“Since when?” Cyrus scoffed. Being the youngest of us, he hasn’t grown bored of the women who throw themselves at us. Although we’re feared, we’re still desired. They long for expensive baubles and offer their bodies in exchange. Cyrus set a bad precedent on that front.
I used to give in to temptation, but it’s been years since I’ve indulged. I want more now. I long for dragonlings. Carrying a dragon is nearly impossible for mortals or other shifters. My brothers and I are the last of our clan and our species is sure to die with us. I may only look thirty years old, but I’m nearly two hundred. I’m growing old, and it’s long past due for me to settle with a mate. A sigh leaves me in longing, and I run the pad of my thumb along my stubbled jaw.
In the last few years I’ve accepted that it’s not meant to be. In the presence of dragons, women capable of carrying our seed display strong signs of ovulation, the most obvious is her heated core and strong scent. I’ve searched the kingdom for years for a woman who would be able to carry my young but have never found a woman to heat for me. Nor have my brothers. Unlike Cyrus, I’ve no desire to bed a woman for sport, and unlike Galen, I’m not bitter that the women capable of carrying dragonlings to term have disappeared with the remainder of our clan.
Galen sits farther back in his seat, getting comfortable. “If only a woman would heat for me, I’d fill her every chance I was given.” As Galen’s soft words settle in the emptiness of the vast throne room, a timid knock echoes off the walls.
“Enter.” I bellow, and in response the large door cracks and slowly opens. A petite woman in a simple linen dress enters with her head bowed. One of the many servants in our quarters. Our kingdom is littered with humans, only those born into servitude are permitted to stay in the castle. They’re permitted to leave if they’d like, but none do. We ensure their wellbeing just as much as their fear in us. Our kingdom is prosperous, but those who stay to serve us are given wealth far beyond the possibilities awaiting the commoners.
The woman walks obediently, her eyes on the floor and her hands clasped in her front, stopping a few feet from the thrones and waiting as expected.
“You may speak.”
The small woman raises her head and meets my gaze. Respect outweighs the fear in her eyes as she speaks confidently. “Your guests are here, my Lords.” Her sweet voice is so soft it barely registers.
“See them in.”
She nods. “Yes, my Lord.”
Before giving her the command to leave, Galen speaks. “Adelle is it?” I commend him on his memory. We’re introduced to the servants as they come and go through the castle, but it’s been decades since I’ve learned a new name. Most I held dear have passed, and since then I find it difficult to form any bond with the humans. Although, judging from the young woman’s age, I may see my death along with hers. For the second time today, I’m reminded of my age and oncoming mortality.
“Yes, my Lord.” She remains calm and patient waiting for her orders.
“Speak more clearly next time.” The young woman pales with fear at Galen’s admonishment. Her bottom lip wobbles slightly, and I repress the need to roll my eyes. We wouldn’t banish her for something so irrelevant, but we also don’t squash the rumors that we would. “Understood?” His tone is hard and unforgiving although I’m sure he doesn’t realize it.
Her breath hitches as she tries to get the word out. Watching her struggle to contain her mortification makes my stomach churn. I grant her a small mercy and send her back to her duties. “Our guests Adelle.”
The little human nods instead of speaking and quickly turns to leave us. I turn my head to give Galen a death stare. “What?” he says with exasperation. “I could barely hear her.” He rolls his eyes and throws his hands up. “Seriously, what must I do?”
Cyrus chuckles, deep and low as several steps are heard nearing us. Of the three of us, Cyrus is far better with human interactions. The three of us straighten in our seats and stare ahead as the doors part once again.
Adelle enters first, her eyes focused on the black swirled marble floor. The click of her tiny shoes is accompanied by the sounds of heavy boots from the three men trailing her. The first of the three I recognize as the sorcerer who sent word of his request, Victor Wade. His blond hair hangs past his shoulders, his sharp blue eyes stare straight, and a thin smile grows on his face. Few have seen the three of us in person with the exception of our servants and the women we keep. His eyes widen and spark with curiosity, but if he’s under the impression that he’ll be gaining information from this meeting, he’s mistaken. I’ve granted him access solely to hear his offer. Purely out of boredom.
The other two men appear to be mere humans, although they may be weak sorcerers; I suppose they’re assistants of his. Neither has qualities that allow them to stand apart from the norm. Adelle stands tall and proud at the side of the room. She stares straight ahead, showing no emotion and simply waiting for her instructions. She’s been trained well and has recovered nicely from Galen’s criticism. She’s a worthy servant.
“My Lords.” Victor bows slightly as do the other men. It’s always humorous to me to see visitors bow. The more trouble they think they’re in, the deeper they bow.
“Victor.” I breathe deeply and wait for him to speak. For years, I’ve felt as though my wings have been clipped. It’s time I got out of this rut and started living before my death is suddenly upon me. However, neither of my brothers seem truly interested in this conquest, and although I’m bored, I have no intention of going to war on my own. Cyrus may be interested, but more out of curiosity than a desire to fight.
“What is it you’ve come to offer us?” Cyrus’s inquisitiveness has always gotten the better of him. It’s my hope that with him on my side, Galen will be swayed.
