Chapter 21
ROARK
Avoiding her is killing me. Kieren and Evander have gone back to Crest Wing to help convince the queen that her daughter has to finish at the academy. That if she doesn’t, she’ll limit her chances of finding her thunder. But more importantly, she’s driving everyone in Crest Wing castle crazy.
Evander came home for a quick check-in yesterday, right after Aisling convinced the chef to write “Free Aisling” on the queen’s pancakes.
The king wasn’t amused. I, on the other hand, found it fucking hysterical.
But then, I don’t have any daughters. I have a feeling that if I did, I might feel the exact same way.
Locking them up during a tumultuous time doesn’t sound so bad.
Yes, we’re a warring society, but the five clans have gotten along in relative peace for a long time.
There’s no reason it couldn’t go back to that—if the damn Firesteds can get their inferior asses in line.
Kieren is doing more than just persuading his parents to let his sister have her education. He’s gathering information about who would support his sister replacing us, and who might challenge her if she were to get the throne.
We live in the Crest Wing castle when we’re not here at Cloud Rift.
We’re in the human realm to grow our hoard and, for a few months longer, evaluate candidates.
Or rather candidate because Raine’s our last. It’s a relief.
My father used to say, “You can’t be a winner if you quit.
You have to stick it out, do the time.” He missed the big picture.
Sometimes, to be a winner, you have to know when to quit.
Open a door for something new, something different, and stop bashing your tail against the volcanic rocks.
My phone dings. I ignore it. A few months back, Evander thought it would be funny to sign me up for a bunch of spam sites.
No, I don’t want to decorate my living room with a new sectional sofa, and I don’t need twenty-five gallons of popcorn.
I was blocking them, but they’re like hydra heads, so I’ve given up.
With everything that’s going on, I don’t have the bandwidth to change my fucking number.
I hate carrying the thing around anyway.
It dings again a few minutes later, but I avoid it.
I’m tracking ghosts. Not literal ghosts but flashes of Firested around the realm and Earth.
There’s something going on. There are more Firested dragons on Earth right now than in the realm, and that’s fucking weird.
They’re concentrated near their portal in the South Pacific.
But there have been sightings of them in Southern Europe, and that’s too close.
Between the realm and Earth, there’s space enough for all of us. They don’t need to be in our backyard.
I shoot off messages to my team around the world.
Sure, humans know about shifters—thanks to the damn witches a few decades ago—but there’s still lots they don’t know about: fae, trolls, vampires, and the damn witches themselves.
There’s even plenty that I’ve thought were rumors or legends that now I’m thinking aren’t, like how mermen and kraken might be shifters themselves, not the monsters that the fairytales talk about.
I don’t care as long as they stay out of our way, out of Crest Wing, and out of the affairs of our realm.
We like being forgotten. Leave the Earth dragon shifters to themselves.
Do I like being thought of as one? Hell no.
We’re far superior, from our hoards to our strength.
But if it protects our realm, staying in the shadows is for the best.
Another message . . . the Firested clan. The fuckers. I add the data from one of our contacts in Greece.
I’ve disconnected the cameras in her suite.
Not permanently, and not really disconnected.
They’re recording directly to the system.
Only if I open the feeds intentionally can I see them.
Did I watch her searching for cameras on her third night in the castle?
Yes, but that’s not the reason why I segmented them away from the other cameras.
It felt wrong. Sure, she signed the NDA that gives us complete access to every part of her personal privacy, but it’s the lack of ability to tell her why she’s really here.
After the second or third week, we’ve usually done the ceremony.
We’re able to tell the full truth to the candidates.
Not all get the truth, though. There have been plenty who were overly attracted to the life of a lady in a castle, either already corrupted of character or easily led astray by the availability of money—those, we never told the whole truth to.
Those, we let move along before their contracts were over.
While it can take six months for the bond to show in a thunder mate, it doesn’t usually.
At least, that’s how my parents spoke of it.
Theirs was mere days. And scava, I’ve tried to forget the story of the three of them in the hayloft the night they met Mother.
It’s not something a child wants to know and not a story they want to hear over and over every time their fathers have too much Dragon Ale.
My finger hovers over the button for her suite, but I don’t turn it on.
Instead, I watch the saved recording of her walking from the dining room to the collection.
How she stands in the doorway looking at the room for a minute or two.
The same thing every day, until she moves to the alcove, turns on the computer, and studies a small painting underneath the hidden camera before sitting down to work once the computer is booted up.
She’s up and down all day. In an hour or two, her smooth hair will be piled on top of her head in a ponytail.
Evander was supposed to be back today. But it’s after lunch and the portal hasn’t opened.
I’ve got an ink appointment later today that I need to cancel. I’m not leaving Raine in the castle by herself. I move from the computer to the sofa under the window and check in with my phone. A few minutes of quality blocking on my phone, and I can stop the incessant round of dinging in my pocket.
Only, it’s not the local bistro with a high-tech kid pushing their latest version of R?sti with bacon in it. It’s Raine. It’s a group message to all three of us.
Raine: I have made progress with the collection. On Monday, there is going to be a delivery of conservation-grade cabinets, so there will be a large truck arriving. Just wanted to let you know.
I stare at it. The three of us decided it was best we all avoid her until we can have the ceremony.
Not that I blame Evander for kissing her.
Fuck, if I’d gotten to her first, I would have done the same thing.
The adrenaline. My sheer anger at Kieren.
After Evander landed, my dragon grabbed Kieren by his talon and threw him into the side of the mountain.
Trying to knock some sense into him, as my father used to say.
Me: Who is unloading this truck?
Raine: The delivery company.
Me: We will do it.
Raine: They install them. It’s important they’re level, or they won’t roll on the tracks properly.
My blood heats. I don’t want anyone around her.
Me: I will be there to supervise them.
It’s better, but I don’t want her anywhere near them.
It’s the reason why the staff has been told to stay clear.
They’ve always known to stay clear of candidates.
Granted, after a few weeks, when it starts to become clear they aren’t the one, things loosen up.
But with Kieren unable to perform the damn ceremony at the moment, it’s not something we can risk.
Raine’s not like other candidates. When I think about her, my brain buzzes.
Something’s not right, though. It’s like it’s her but it’s not her.
There’s a part of me that wonders if it’s because I’m thinking of her as the last candidate.
Either way, I can’t have a bunch of males around her in my space.
Right now, my dragon can barely tolerate Kieren being around her, so he’s giving her and me space.
A plan begins to form.
I step out into the hall. Yes, there’s a ball rope to pull to summon Leopold, but I fucking hate it.
It’s taken me enough time to come to grips with having an ancestral.
My family line has one, but they serve my second cousin’s thunder.
If Kieren hadn’t had one already, they might have made the choice to serve our thunder, being that I’ll end up having more needs. But we’ve got Leopold.
I march through the atrium to the dining room and almost run into the ancestral.
“You needed me?” Leo asks. He doesn’t need to. Because he knows full well I have a favor to ask him. They always do.