Chapter 12.5
Rook
This was going to be a giant waste of my fucking time.
Right now I couldn’t think of a single thing I wanted to do less than haul my ass to some pointless godsdamn meeting with a bunch of archaic dragons getting involved in yet another dick measuring contest. There was a reason I’d spent a couple of centuries avoiding my kind whenever I could—they were mostly a bunch of juvenile assholes with nothing better to do than pick petty squabbles.
Should just let the whole bunch of them tear each other apart. Might get a bit of peace that way.
And this has nothing to do with a certain shifter your hands were all over not an hour ago?
Shut up, dragon, I snarled, the sound slipping from my maw and echoing through the night air around us.
I felt his smug—but wisely silent—response.
Damn shifter girl was already getting under my skin.
The kiss had been a mistake. Just long-buried hormones taking control like I was a damned hatchling.
It didn’t mean anything other than I’d been caught off guard by the reptilian side of my brain, with an unhelpful side dose of biological urges to reproduce.
Like reproduction was that simple for my kind, anyway.
Even before the Fall it had been complicated, but all that nuclear shit in the ground and in our food hadn’t helped matters.
Our subspecies—Wraiths, as some of them insisted on calling themselves, and I grudgingly had to admit that the name made certain rivals think twice before attacking—were more resilient to nuclear fallout than most, which was why I’d built my home in the middle of what the humans would have called a hot zone.
Back when they understood things like that.
Kept unwanted visitors from knocking at my door.
Nothing alive out here but me and the three eyed deer.
And a certain shifter.
I growled under my breath. A whole damn pack of them, actually, but I don’t see you obsessing about the rest of them.
I’m not the one obsessing.
And I wasn’t having this argument again.
It had been a brief and largely redundant biological urge and there was no part of me that wanted to attempt to breed with the female if such a thing was even possible.
It wasn’t unheard of for dragons—usually ones that had taken leave of their senses—to attempt to breed with shifters or humans, but I doubted much, if anything, ever came of such ridiculous unions.
Which was just fine by me. There were too many creatures in this world as it was, and I didn’t need some kind of half-dragon, half-wolf, all fuck-up creature upending my entire life.
Seemed like a single shifter girl was enough to do that.
I’d have to deal with her when I got back.
Set her straight about whatever ill-advised notions were going through her head.
She was there to cook, and to clean, and nothing else.
The fact that she was apparently terrible at both was irrelevant.
The summit was a short flight beyond Wraith borders, out of consideration for the other sub-species that weren’t quite so resilient to nuclear fallout as mine.
More was the pity. Whole world outside my walls had gone to shit since dragonkind decided to shatter the humans’ delusions about being top of the food chain.
Not one of those dumb fucks stopped to think further than the length of their own dicks before enslaving the whole damn lot of them.
And at what cost? There hadn’t been a halfway decent book published in a century.
The ones that had survived the bombs had mostly fallen prey to humans burning them for warmth.
And that pissed me off more than whatever these idiots at the summit were about to do.
What happened in Alexandria had been bad enough.
Irritated, I beat my wings harder, swooping through the slowly lightening sky. Dawn wouldn’t be far off, and with any luck, the summit would have dissolved into murder and ruin by midday, and I’d be home in time for dinner.
…Or I’d grab one of those deer on the flight back, anyway.
When I reached the Dreary Bastards HQ, I wasted no time shifting back and getting inside.
I wasn’t the first to arrive, and a few dragons cut me respectful nods as I passed.
I mostly ignored them. I wasn’t here to make friends, and the sooner this whole waste of time was over and done with, the better.
I snatched what smelled like a roasted leg of lamb from a platter I passed, thanking the dead gods who were probably the figment of some sad fuck’s imagination, and the pitiful creature holding the platter almost dropped the whole thing on the floor.
“S—sorry, my lord,” she stammered, trying to curtsey whilst still holding the platter.
Fuck’s sake, where did they find these damn humans?
And what the hell was wrong with just leaving the platter on a table anyway?
I snarled in irritation, and a creature that reeked of Red Reapers hurried forward, scowling at the pitiful female, and then smiling ingratiatingly at me.
“My apologies if my servant offends you, Rook. Charlotte has much to learn, but learn she shall.” His eyes fell on the cowering creature. “Or she shall break.”
I glared at the pair of them, then stalked off with my leg of lamb in hand, taking a bite as I strode into the main hall, filled with a ridiculously oversized table that was still smaller than the egos of half the dragons who were sitting round it.
But fuck it, the flight had been worth it for the lamb. Hadn’t realized there were parts of the world left that had creatures other than mutant deer and those pigs my old friend kept conjuring from somewhere. Maybe Gaheris was right—I did need to get out more.
Dreythos is here.
I turned slowly, letting my eyes rove the crowd with practiced uninterest as I took another bite from the leg of lamb—and then almost choked on it. A human. All but clinging to Dreythos’s leg. I’d never known my old acquaintance to bother with their kind. Not as slaves.
You could call him friend.
I could, if I gave a fuck about such things, I agreed, forcing my eyes to keep moving as I examined the mental snapshot.
The way Drey’s body angled subtly…there was something protective in it.
Like he was guarding the human. Bold, to be so open about it.
At least the creature wasn’t cowering in fear, as the rest of the unfortunates taken by their faction did.
Unsurprising, given how fragile the species were.
More surprising that this one seemed…intact.
And had been permitted to bring her young with her.
Dreythos and his generals guard them both.
Whatever game my old acquaintance was playing, it was better not to draw attention to it, so I didn’t look their way again, but reached out with my senses, tasting the air. The human didn’t smell injured. My initial impression, then, was correct. Interesting.
She bears their scent, my beast observed.
Unsurprising. They all fuck their humans in the Stormriders.
And every other faction, my dragon griped. We also ought rut.
If you think I’m jumping a broken slave, you can go rut yourself.
The child bears their scent.
Fuck off, you moronic lizard.
But regardless, I reached out with my senses again, blinking sharply when I realized the truth of my beast’s observations.
The child was theirs. Half dragon. Interesting, indeed.
I guess that answered the question about whether humans could bear dragon young.
I’d heard their faction was among the most heavily impacted by birth declines. This was a…novel…approach.
They do not treat her like a slave. They treat her like a mate.
You’re seeing things.
I tore another bite from the leg of lamb, vaguely noting the way a collared human flinched back as I passed him.
Everyone here sees it. They’ve nested.
Fuck. He wasn’t wrong. Drey and his generals were staking a claim with their eyes every time someone so much as glanced in the human’s direction.
No surprise if one of them had fathered a child on her.
Two decades since there’d been a birth in their territory, it was no secret. Things, it seemed, were changing.
Good. Maybe they’d stop short of wiping out whatever human civilization remained in time for them to fill a new library or two.
I kept moving, scanning for a seat next to someone I wouldn’t have to spend the next too-fucking-many hours wanting to stab in the eye.
Onyx.
My gaze found him as my dragon made the observation, and I was grudgingly forced to admit he was one of the few creatures in this room whose mere existence didn’t make me wish to end mine.
Despite the lake?
I bit back a growl. I prefer it when you’re thinking about rutting, beast.
We’re not the only ones thinking about rutting.
‘We’ is an exaggeration by at least—Wait, what?
Because that was when I saw her, and knew exactly what my dragon was talking about.
The human. Lurking in Onyx’s shadow, acting the demure little Tribute that I knew could never have caught my old friend’s eye.
But that was exactly what she’d done, if the tension running across his shoulders was any indication, and the possessive gleam in his eye.
Fuck me. Must be something in the food. I stared at the half-eaten leg of lamb in my hand and tossed it to the corner of the room.
I scrubbed my hand through my hair with a scowl and strode over to take the empty seat next to Onyx, then snatched up an abandoned goblet of some kind of shit wine someone had left on the table.
I downed half of it in one, grimacing. No wonder the fucker had left it.
No-one could have poor enough taste to think that wine was anything other than rank. Not even my Dhoca.
Shit. I shoved the thought aside. I was not wasting time thinking about my Tribute. My beast had enough trouble keeping things straight as it was.
“Surprised to find you in the same room as that lot after everything,” I said to Onyx, before my dragon could get any ideas about the female we’d left behind and my errant thought. Deciding I ought narrow it down, given the current company, I nodded towards Drey and his generals.
“Anything I should know about, mate?” he asked, sidestepping my observation with all the finesse of an elephant attempting to tap-dance.
“Impatient bastard,” I said, not bothering to hide my amusement. “You know these things take time.”
A lot of time, seeing as I preferred not to leave my territory more than once a decade, given the choice.
“No bites yet?”
My dragon sent an unhelpfully vivid image of my Dhoca’s teeth biting into my shoulder, and I lifted the goblet to my lips before anyone could see me almost choking on air.
“None worth mentioning.”
Fuck this. I needed some air. I abandoned the goblet to its next victim and slunk off through the room. I never should have let Gaheris talk me into coming here. Might have been easier to go to war. Certainly less painful.
Someone clapped their hands, and I briefly considered removing them at the wrists. My eyes landed on the head prick from the assholes who called themselves ‘Tres Blades’ of all things. Santiago, I was pretty sure he went by.
“Thank you for coming on short notice. I know many of you have been dealing with your own faction issues, many stemming from the Borderlands, but it’s important we maintain our promise to the Dragon Border Alliance. First and foremost, we are comrades and allies.”
I bit back a snort. Comrades and allies? Could have fucking fooled me. It’d be a miracle if everyone made it out of here without spilling blood.
As the fool droned on, I eyed the assembled dragons, half-expecting someone to leap across the table and start ripping throats before Santiago could finish his self-important speech.
If only. Instead, I settled back against the wall behind me, arms folded, and let my gaze wander.
Onyx looked ready to gut the next idiot who glanced at his human.
Dreythos and his little family cluster were drawing more than their share of glances, not all of them envious.
Seemed like some in this room would rather our species died out than take a human mate.
Didn’t matter much to me either way. This world had dragons enough, and I didn’t much care for it.
But if it came to a fight…well, there were worse men to stand alongside than Drey.
Plus he’d killed more dragons than he’d bred, so I was pretty sure that put him on my side of the equation.
“We should increase Tributes,” one moron to my right called out, presumably in response to whatever bullshit Santiago had been spewing.
“Aye,” another agreed. “Stake a claim on the Borderlands and keep them in line.”
I snorted. “I’m sure you’ll be volunteering your faction to handle that, Sigrar?”
He glowered at me, but fell silent, turning to the bodyguard by his side, because Sigrar never left home without someone holding his hand. “Heard Uther sent his lackey because he was too busy playing with his toys to come himself.”
The bodyguard sent an uneasy look my way, clearly torn between kissing up to his boss, and not having his head ripped clean off his shoulders by me. Little did he realize I didn’t give a fuck about Uther, or anyone trash talking him. Besides, it was probably true.
“Heard he’s got his eye on a new one,” Sigrar droned on like the fuckwit he was. “Says she’s ‘special’. Not like the rest. Probably means she has the right number of eyes, unlike everything else in that territory.”
Fuck, I hoped not. The king’s ‘special’ interests never ended well for anyone—however many fucking eyes they had. But I did make a note to dump a three-eyed deer on Sigrar’s house next time I flew near his territory. Maybe I’d make a trip out that way sooner rather than later.
“…and end the rebellions once and for all,” Santiago concluded. He might just as well have said we were all going to eat mud and shit gold for all the belief I could see on the faces round the room.
What a shock. Another meeting of the Dreary Bastards Association that was going to achieve the sum total of fuck all. I glanced over at Dreythos though, and then Onyx, and wondered if this trip hadn’t been a little more useful than I’d given it credit for.
Because one thing was certain: things were changing in our world.
Just fucking brilliant.