Chapter Twenty
Ghreid
Such a lovely creature Varis was. Flitting about the estate in his new clothes made something glorious warm Ghreid’s heart.
The gold of the Draynarian silk had been split into trim, lapels, and accent pieces for many outfits that complemented Varis’s pallor.
Gold looked good on him, and Ghreid barely resisted touching him at any given opportunity.
That morning was no different when they slipped out of bed at Rydel’s demand.
Varis went about his duties—ones he’d self-appointed, making himself the face and voice of the new Saurian rule.
“My Liege.” Rydel knocked at Ghreid’s doorframe, drawing him out of a stack of paperwork thicker than the hard-on he wanted to give Varis right that moment merely thinking of him.
“Hmm?” Ghreid tilted his head up and frowned as two unfamiliar men of Kalish origin stared back, one the spitting image of an older—perhaps little portlier—Varis.
“Ghreid of Sauria,” a well-educated accent enunciated as what appeared to be an attendant bowed low. “Well met.”
Ghreid rose to pay his visitors respect as the second male did not bow, only strode in, eying his surroundings with a discerning gaze. “To whom might I extend my welcome?”
“I am the first Rashiz, Dal Finem.” The family resemblance must have been strong genes, as Varis’s family had been the third Rashiz.
“Well met. Welcome to my territory. How might I aid you?” Ghreid did not extend his hand, as they did not do so in Kaliman. He merely held his arm laterally as if he were to drape a towel and gave a nod of his head. The gesture was reciprocated, and Ghreid offered the two a seat.
As the Rashiz sat, he pulled a folded parchment letter from his jacket and extended it to Ghreid with a dour expression. “It is in regards to my son, Varis Dal Enon.”
“Forgive me if I am mistaken, but Varis spoke as if he was of the third Rashiz. This would mean he was of the first…” Ghreid hesitated as Finem nodded once.
“Many have become ill and died. The succession has moved up.” He tented his fingers. “And my son needs to be returned.”
Ghreid hesitated, thinking of the correct words before resting his clawed hands flat on his desk to not give the appearance of a threat. “Returned to sacrifice to Alim, correct?”
An expression darkened Finem’s face as he shook his head slightly. “I would like to broker a deal with Sauria in regards to the ashen. I’ve long despised the tradition, and with my heir apparent one—the church was happy to allow Alim to ‘speak to them.’”
Ghreid nodded. Clergy could be remarkably flexible with their rigid laws when it came to those the law often didn’t apply to. So, in regards to that, Ghreid hummed. “That standing, I will be unable to acquiesce to your demand.”
Finem’s nostrils flared as a spark of anger came to life under dark, untamed brows. “Why not?”
“You do understand that an ashen, by international decree, is automatically a citizen free of Sauria, yes?” Ghreid licked his lips. “And for the purpose of the fates, they are chosen to be the mates of dragonkind.”
“He has found his mate? Who is he, or she? He, I would assume. I do know my son’s preference.” The male beside Finem nodded in agreement. His father appeared to lean that way as well.
“I am his mate. We attempted to contact you in a timely fashion, but we received no proper response and were thwarted at every angle attempting to contact someone higher up. We are married in the eyes of our kind,” Ghreid sighed heavily.
Anger flashed in his eyes before Finem calmed and glanced toward the male at his side. They exchanged a squeeze of hands and nodded. “Unavoidable.”
“Perhaps he has another brother that is in line to stand?” Ghreid blinked, and the two glanced at one another and then shook their heads.
“I’m afraid his mother is beyond the years of bearing children, and I will not take another wife. Her bloodline is important to the crown, so I only have daughters. And since he is mated by law of dragon to a male, he will have no heirs, so this complicates things.” Finem sighed raggedly.
Ghreid cleared his throat. “It is not how you think. Two males can reproduce in our kind. Varis would be the bearer of young, in our case.”
Finem’s brow creased. “He is a woman?”
“No. He is male, but our reptilian counterparts are flexible when it comes to genitalia, and he has the ability to bear young, too.” Ghreid cleared his throat. “Would you like me to have him summoned home?”
Finem blinked a few times in surprise. “I would like to see him, yes.”
“Understand he will not be returning to Kaliman.” Ghreid leaned back in his seat and exhaled, his calming breath centering the possessive nature of his dragon.
“This complicates things further, you understand. Without an heir, he could potentially find a husband for ou—his daughter worth seating her side or take another wife. But if he bears a son, as you claim, which I do not doubt you based off stories I’ve heard.
” The male that sat at Finem’s side ran the heels of his palms down his trouser legs. “Apologies.”
“No need. You’re his partner, are you not?” Ghreid directed his attention to the male. They smelled the part; their scents intermingled.
The male silenced. Finem cleared his throat. “Yes. He is my partner, as you say.”
“No shame in the matter. You’re among dragons.” Ghreid knocked on his desk, summoning Rydel in with a gentle wave and muttered instruction to get Varis. “And do tell him his fathers are here and all seems to be well.”
Ghreid waved him off and stared at the couple.
“You are welcome to stay as long as you need, but I must warn you that the transition from human to dragon comes with changes. He is not the same son you last saw. Even without that, he’s likely grown and changed.
The years on the ships were hard, and he spent two years stranded… ”
A collective gasp came from the two men. “Two years stranded here?”
“Two years stranded on a half-sunken ship out by the stacks you passed coming in. He was afraid to come ashore for fear he’d be extradited and sent back to Kaliman and killed.” Ghreid gritted his teeth. “I brought him ashore when I saw him out there, drawn to him.”
“He was that scared.” The other male held a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.
“Of course he was, Mykal! There’s no amount of sweet-talking to make sure the lamb willingly goes to slaughter!” Finem tugged at his hair. “His mother couldn’t even get attached to him.”
“I did. And thank you for calling me his father, too. I never wanted that for him, but it was what… It was what the temple declared was right. It never felt right, but that’s how it’s always been.
” Mykal pulled a kerchief from somewhere in his shirt and dabbed at his eyes.
“The priests are demanding a sacrifice in symbol. They’re going to slaughter a cow and take a sum of money.
Money our family doesn’t currently have. ”
“And what is this sum of money?” Ghreid rifled through his papers and pulled one to the side before reaching into one of his desk drawers to pull out a ledger.
“It’s… Significant. We’re willing to put forward what we can of it. Seeing as he’s a prince…they have made a demand and if we can sate them, then we can make the transition of power better.” Finem wrung his hands. “This is so much better and worse than I’d planned.”
“I asked what the sum is.” Ghreid sneered, glancing from his ledger to the men.
“They want s-six thousand nepa.” Finem cleared his throat and rubbed at his mouth, his posture that of utter humility.
“Those are thirty-gram coins, yes?” Ghreid tallied numbers off, face twisted into a frown.
“Twenty. They’ve changed the unit a few times due to falling values.” Mykal raised a helpful hand.
“Hmm. You want my body weight in gold, basically.” Ghreid sighed and shook his head.
“We can cover two thousand of it.” Finem raised his hands apologetically.
“My brother’s weight in gold, then.” Ghreid envisioned Slath sitting on a scale, arms folded, pissed.
“Y-yes.”
“How about a quarter of a skein of Draynarian gold silk?” Varis marched in, arms folded, tail held high with interest.
“Dear, that was for our nest!” Ghreid stood, his heart half aflutter. Varis was beautiful in the afternoon light drifting through his office window.
“Apa, Nen.” Varis nodded toward the two men. “Will that pay my bounty?”
“It’s not a bounty! At this point, it’s more of a d-dowry…” Finem stood, capering before his son, bright eyes scouring every inch of him to take in his features, the silk trim on his clothes, every bit a waiting question. Are you really him?
“It still leaves plenty for what I had in mind.” Varis gave Ghreid a half grin. “There’s a reason I only had trim done on my clothing.”
Ghreid’s heart warmed. Varis so dearly wanted pillows for their eggs, imagining them already.
“Th-that would…”
“It’s enough gold Draynarian silk to make the high priest a set of robes. Money can’t buy Draynarian silk these days.” Varis glared.
“That will work, my child. It will work wonders in the light of glory.” The blessing in Kalish sounded better, Ghreid assumed.
“Good. A quarter skein.” Varis nodded.
“How did you come by such a thing?” Mykal pushed past Finem and opened his arms, welcoming Varis in with a tight hug.
“Two years stranded at sea with me and a thousand shitting seabirds.” Varis sneered, and Finem slowly approached, one arm outstretched to join the hug with a more reserved posture.
“There I was guarding that shipment, praying it would grant me clemency, but turns out, it only lines my cradle, trims my robes, and pays off some philandering priest.”
“C-cradle?” Mykel pulled back and glanced Varis up and down.
“Preemptive. My mate and I will do our best to start a family.” Varis smiled and Ghreid closed his ledger. “And my mate can save his coin for the start of things to come.”
“Will we get an opportunity to meet our new son-in-law’s parents?” Mykel glanced from Varis to Ghreid.
“No. They slumber. If it is the will of the fates, they will wake soon, one hopes. I look forward to the solstice when some wake.” Ghreid offered his best forced smile.
“Dragons take a hibernation when they need, and it can last years. Some have slept for hundreds.” Varis waved the notion aside. “There are brothers that you might meet. Depending on your stay and their proclivities.”
Ghreid’s mind drifted off to his sleeping parents, and a hole bottomed out in his stomach. A thought occupied his mind. Our children will never meet them.