Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
From the upper floor of the ballroom, Gerard stood, watching Prince Elias stride across the floor below, head high and white hair flowing behind him. A silver circlet on his head caught the light from the chandeliers. His hips swayed as he walked.
Tonight he wore a sheer black tunic with blue floral patterns embroidered into it. Over that, he wore a long coat. The silver circlet sat on his white hair. Everyone he passed turned to watch him.
He really is too fucking beautiful. Too bad he is a naive fop.
Gerard forced himself to look away. He glanced at Senta beside him before he looked out over the crowd of monks, royals, dignitaries, ambassadors, and nobles as they talked, drank, ate, and swirled across the dance floor.
Several times now, Gerard had felt the intensity of Prince Elias’s piercing gaze. But why does he watch me?
Unlike Prince Elias, Gerard was not pleasant to look at. Usually people looked away, not at him. Gerard stopped himself from turning to stare at Prince Elias once again. Instead he focused on the grand monk speaking to Empress Emmeline.
I really should not be so captivated by the lightning prince. Just because he was beyond pretty, didn’t make up for the absence of intellect or character.
Gerard had heard the man speak. That should be enough to stop any stirring of attraction. Still, Gerard often found himself watching the prince. Earlier that night, he’d observed as Prince Elias appeared to be flirting with Luther, Gerard’s younger brother.
Gerard pressed his lips together. Fucking Luther. It was his betrothal ball to Warden Onyx! He should not be flirting with someone who was not his future spouse.
In several ways, Luther and Prince Elias seemed almost suited for each other. Both beautiful. Both not taking duty seriously. Perhaps King Alaric should have arranged for them to marry each other. Then they could live a life being irresponsible and beautiful together.
“I don’t know why Luther keeps complaining about Warden Onyx. I don’t see any problems with him.” Gerard sipped his glass of red wine. “And I don’t understand why Luther makes such a point of trying to antagonise him.”
Senta sighed. “I know. I wanted to slap Luther when he was so obviously trying to get a rise out of the warden earlier.”
The four siblings had been talking when Warden Onyx had approached. Luther had ignored his future spouse completely.
“Perhaps they’d get along better if Luther would just grow up and act like a fucking adult for once,” Senta said.
“Drinking less would probably help too,” Gerard added.
She fixed her gaze on Luther. “At least he doesn’t seem too drunk tonight.”
“He does look miserable though,” Gerard said. “About as miserable as Warden Onyx.”
Since this was Luther and the warden’s betrothal ball, they’d had to dance together earlier. They’d gotten through that without either of them throwing a punch. Although, honestly, it looked like they’d both wanted to.
Now they seemed to be avoiding each other entirely, standing at opposite ends of the ballroom.
Gerard wondered if he would be as miserable with whoever he ended up with. He scanned the crowd. He touched a finger to his mother’s ring hidden beneath his clothes.
It was a rather plain ring, bearing the scuffs and marks it had accumulated over many years.
His mother had not been high-born. She’d been a by-blow of a noble dragon lord passing through her family’s village.
But she’d grown up to be an incredibly powerful dragon, far stronger than even her father and his legitimate children.
So her father had recognised her publicly as his offspring and brought her to court.
King Alaric Drachen had ignored her birth and upbringing, instead focusing on her power and potential to strengthen his bloodline. He’d married her, and she had provided him with five children, including Gerard, before she died.
The ring had been made by his mother’s maternal grandfather. A parting gift when she’d left her village for court, a memory of her home. Gerard had always treasured it. He wondered if he would end up giving it to his future spouse.
He dropped his hand. He hoped whoever he married would not be too displeased with him or his appearance. He glanced at the different potential royal spouses from Botanial, Zephyrias, and Voltaria. Once again, Gerard’s gaze settled on Prince Elias. He swallowed.
That would be a terrible match.
Unfortunately, Gerard knew Prince Elias could be who he ended up marrying. But he hoped it wouldn’t be him. Marrying someone plain would be difficult enough. Gerard marrying someone so stunning felt ridiculous.
“Do you think Konrad is right? Do you think the necromancers are plotting against us all?” Senta asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t like the necromancers. But it seems no one does.” Gerard leaned against the balustrade and looked down at the shadow king and queen of Necros, dressed unsurprisingly all in black.
They spoke with Grand Healer Eveline, the head of the healer monks. Everyone but the monks avoided those from Necros. In fact, the other kingdoms seemed more accepting of the dragons, their literal recent enemies, than the necromancers.
“And they are difficult to spy on, which makes it harder to determine if they are up to something,” Gerard said.
Senta sighed. “Well, we have to keep trying. Especially after what happened at Prince Ash and Lord Morton’s wedding.”
During the first of the marriages to seal the peace treaty, Princess Lantana Rosewood of Botanial, who was also Prince Ash’s aunt, had attacked Lord Morton, King Alaric, and Queen Consort Adelina.
She’d carried a grudge against the dragons for the death of her husband and children that occurred during the war.
“A lot of people do hate us,” Gerard said.
“We did kill a lot of people during the war.”
“And a lot of our own were killed.” Gerard stared into his wine. “I’m glad the war is over. I’m glad we can put a stop to all that.”
Senta lifted her goblet. “I’ll drink to that.”
Gerard toasted, and they both drank.
Senta’s gaze roamed the lower level. She grimaced. “Fire and bloody fucking flames.”
“What?”
Senta gestured with her goblet across the ballroom.
“Fuck,” Gerard muttered.
Their father stood close, very close to a young lady from Necros. She was probably of a similar age to Senta. King Alaric leaned towards her. The lady smiled, dark-red lips contrasting with her pale skin.
“Latest mistress, do you think?” Senta took a deep gulp of her wine.
“Who knows.”
“Maybe we’ll have a new half-sibling soon,” she said.
Gerard huffed. “One can never have too many half-siblings.”
Senta tilted her head. “And we’ve never had a half-sibling from Necros before. A necromancer in the family will be novel.”
“Wait.” Gerard frowned. “Is that the shadow queen’s sister?”
After a second, she nodded. “It is.”
Neither spoke for several seconds as they watched their father flirting with a necromancer.
Finally, Gerard spoke, “I suppose Father sees this peace treaty as an opportunity to sow his seed across the kingdoms we were so recently at war with.”
Senta took another deep gulp of her wine.
For their entire lives, their father had always been obsessed with the bloodline. He had married two wives with strong dragon blood. And despite both his wives providing him with numerous legitimate children, who were all strong dragons, he’d also continued to sow his oats far and wide.
There would be no wiping out his offspring. It would be hard enough to find them all. Although, that wasn’t actually true. There was a register of the king’s children in order to keep track of where they all were.
“Perhaps Father is feeling pressure to sire more children because of the recent issues with his grandchildren,” Senta said.
Around puberty, dragons who had inherited the skill shifted for the first time. But despite their immaculate bloodline, King Alaric had produced grandchildren who were considered dragon runts, unusually small and weak dragons when they shifted.
Then one of his grandchildren had even failed to shift when he reached the usual age. He could be a late bloomer. But if he completely lacked the ability to shift, then that would be a first in their bloodline.
Some said it was because the balance of magic in the kingdoms had been disturbed by the wars. It was that which had made their father willing to consider a peace treaty.
He did not care about ending the bloodshed or the suffering of civilians, or obtaining peace and stability for his kingdom. He needed to protect his bloodline. That was what mattered to him.
Senta groaned.
“What now?” Then Gerard saw what Senta did. Their stepmother, Queen Consort Adelina, stood a short distance from her husband and the young woman who had caught his eye. She watched them, her hands clasped in front of her, face blank.
In all the years, Gerard had never heard her complain or seen her act obviously hurt, but how could her husband’s behaviour not wound her? If not her feelings, then at least her pride. And the fact that she had always been so devoted and loyal to their father made it seem so much worse to Gerard.
He gritted his teeth. “Shit! Could he at least fuck around when his wife isn’t with him?”
“Poor woman.”
Swirling her skirts, the queen consort turned and walked calmly towards the doors that led out onto the terrace. Meanwhile the king kept flirting, seemingly oblivious to his wife.
Then Prince Elias danced past the king and his potential conquest. Gerard’s gaze snagged and followed the lightning prince. He danced with someone Gerard didn’t recognise.
He moves so elegantly.
“Gerard, you’re staring. Again.”
Fuck. Gerard looked away. “I’m not,” he lied.
“I’m not sure why you like him,” Senta said, clearly not willing to engage in his obvious lie. “Of course, he is pretty. Ridiculously so. But what else has he to offer? I’d call him a bloody coward, except I don’t think he comprehends that one should be terrified of war.”
She sneered at Prince Elias. “He just doesn’t like scratchy robes.” She gave Gerard a once-over. “He’s not the type I’d imagined you’d be interested in. I thought you’d want someone with substance. Someone competent and strong.”
“I’m not interested in him. Not really,” Gerard said. “Anyway, he’s far too pretty for me.”
Senta bared her teeth. “Don’t speak like that! Anyone would be lucky to have you. You deserve more than anyone.” She gripped his arm with fingers like iron. “You certainly deserve better than a silly little weakling. No matter how attractive he is.”
Gerard looked away. He didn’t want to argue with her about what he did or did not deserve. “Well, you don’t need to worry. Like I said, I’m not interested in him.”
But his sister was right; he really should not be attracted to Prince Elias. After all, it was one thing to not be strong enough to fight in the war. It rankled to hear Prince Elias flaunt his weakness and his ability to shirk his duties.
“And it doesn’t matter what I think about anyone.” His lips tugged as he gave his sister a half-smile. “It’s not like you or I get any say in who we marry.”