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“What are you doing, Drago?” Galen’s words carry through the room, and I turn at the doors with the woman screaming in my arms.
“I’ll come back and we will prepare for war.” I look down at the woman in my arms and then out to the hall. To my bedchambers. Knowing this is a dangerous game I’m playing. “You can have Isabella, Galen. I won’t fight you.”
My brothers stare at me as though I’ve gone mad, but Galen is pleased by my words. Cyrus looks between us, before asking, “Drago?”
I stare back at him, waiting impatiently. “What?”
“You won’t hurt her. Promise me.” I’m shocked at his words. I know I must look as though I’ve gone mad. The woman is quietly sobbing in my arms as it dawns on her that the fight is useless. I look down at her and then back at my brothers, feeling selfish and undeserving.
“Never.” I breathe the word and quickly turn to leave the room. I won’t hurt her. I kiss her hair and stride quickly toward my bedchambers. I won’t hurt her, but I won’t let her go.
GALEN
“What the hell was that about?” Cyrus’s question echoes exactly what I’m thinking. I purse my lips and watch Adelle lead the young women out of the room. Irritation rises inside of me as the shock of Drago’s actions subsides. I’ll figure out what he’s hiding; there are no secrets in this castle that evade me.
“Why would he accept that offer?”
I ignore Cyrus’s murmured thought. “Why would you let the sorcerer leave?”
My brother turns to me, a crease between his brow, and he answers, “You told him to. We don’t contradict one another.” Cyrus stares at me with his forehead pinched in confusion. “To be honest, I’m still shocked you allowed him to go.” He runs a hand through his hair in exasperation.
“I shouldn’t have.” I shake my head, pissed at myself for not thinking clearly. “It wasn’t wise.”
“No it wasn’t.” Again, he stares toward the now closed doors. “He’s going to tell everyone what happened. They’ll know it to be true.”
I nod my head in agreement with his statement. “But we did not agree to war.”
“We may as well have,” he states matter of factly. With a heavy inhale he rises and I follow. We walk out of the throne room, and I smirk as we both walk toward the study.
“Are you intending on looking her up as well?” I have to ask him.
He raises a brow and smirks. “I’m not competing for her affection, if that’s what you mean.”
“It’s not.” Although a deep part of me is grateful for him bowing out, that wasn’t what I was getting at. “Do you think she really exists? A woman who could carry our line?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I haven’t thought much of it.” He looks away as he speaks, and I’ve learned that means he’s lying.
“You haven’t thought at all about having a mate?” My question is laced with doubt.
“Why would I? Our kind died out long ago, and the possibility of another species carrying dragonlings is”—he breathes heavily—“impossible.”
I admonish him. “That’s a strong word, Cyrus.”
“It is the truth. It’s best to accept it and live life to the fullest.”
“To the fullest? As in constantly having a new woman in your bed?”
He scoffs at me. “No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Ah I see.” No, I don’t. I don’t understand how one could live life to the fullest without a mate. I’ve wanted one for as long as I can remember. I thought I had her once, and my chest aches in memory.
“You’re thinking of her, aren’t you?”
I peek at my brother with a side-eye and nod. We know each other too well to hide from my brothers.
“She would have made you a wonderful mate. I liked her very much.” Before I can read too much into his words he adds, “for you. She would’ve been good for you.”
A familiar ache and pain flow through me, proving I’m not as numb to the past as I thought I was.
