Prologue – King Locryn’s Celebration Day #2
Daire released Ywain, took a deep breath, and stepped through the second set of wards, which stole his breath and tingled against his skin—a ward to prevent shifting or performing magic.
His dragon shifted uneasily under his skin.
They needn’t hurry, despite Ywain’s urging.
One of Father’s secretaries arranged the empty places reserved for the king’s sons and their entourages.
The bowl had room for three thousand, with only a third of the seating in use.
Ah, gone were the glory days of the court, though more dragons remained in town and in outlying areas.
Not for the first time, the dwindling numbers brought a touch of fear for the future. Daire had played with many other fledglings growing up. Now, only a handful cavorted in the aisles until scolded by their parents.
Courts died without young to carry on the legacy.
“Oh, lookie here.” Ywain sounded gleeful. “Two marriageable women have their eyes on you. One with auburn waves, the other with lovely black curls. I do love variety, don’t you?”
Many young women turned Daire’s way, then quickly averted their gazes, playing coy, or fearful of a parent’s rebuke.
Few among the nobility would pursue Daire until his brother, the crown prince, chose a mate.
Daire scoffed. “Why have a mere warrior, albeit a royal one, with an unmated future king available for the winning?”
“You sell yourself short.” Ywain leaned in and whispered, “Your older brother has the title, your younger brother has the charm, but you, my dear, have the looks. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.” If they hadn’t been in public, he’d probably have brushed a kiss over Daire’s cheek, as he so often did.
People in the crowds wore their finest clothes, proudly displaying carefully protected jewels, usually hidden in hoards, to show off.
All Daire’s hoard remained concealed, regardless of Ywain’s earlier comments.
He valued family, friends, and fighting skills more than any jewels, even the massive emerald he’d found in a deserted mountain cave.
He trudged down the bowl toward the empty seats awaiting him.
“Daire!” Anrai shouted, gesturing toward the seats.
Daire couldn’t help grinning at his younger brother.
Unlike Daire’s brown hair and amber eyes—so much like their mother’s—Anrai resembled Father and their older brother, Elouan.
Same coal-black hair and dark eyes, but with the slender features of an omega instead of Daire’s stocky beta build or Elouan’s finely muscled, toned body.
Elouan stood slightly taller than Daire, who could look down on the top of Anrai’s head. The Goddess indeed blessed the Thornes.
Anrai sat with his normal cadre of unattached omegas, both male and female, scoping out potential mates among the alphas present, some of whom had come from other courts to take part in tonight's revelry.
More adventurous omegas eyed betas—fun to play with, but not suitable for mates unless they came with a title.
“Good evening, brother,” Daire replied in passing. Anrai grinned and returned to his conversation with his friends.
“Who do you think your father will choose for Anrai’s mate?” Ywain asked. “There’s few courts left with unattached leaders.”
Years of fighting amongst themselves left very few courts at all.
The thought of Anrai mating brought sorrow, as Father would indeed arrange a marriage, likely to the leader of another court, where Daire would barely see the lad. The boy flirted, but only for sport. An arranged mating awaited him.
“Aren’t you glad you’re a beta?” Ywain persisted. “Your older brother needs a consort; your younger brother will become another alpha’s consort. We betas can do whatever we please!”
Daire wouldn’t mention the link between beta fighters and short lifespans.
“Stop being nosy and sit down already,” he snapped, gesturing to two seats on a level above Anrai’s, where Anrai’s bright chatter might lighten the mood.
Something seemed off tonight, a churning deep in Daire’s stomach—a sense of doom. Nonsense! This is a celebration!
Even his dragon grew antsy, though their connection remained subdued because of the wards.
With Anrai around to entertain the masses, Daire needn’t say a word, and few would notice his silence.
He searched for the rest of his family. Father stood near the center of the bowl, smiling and greeting guests. He nodded his acknowledgment before yet another courtier pulled his attention away.
“There’s the mage!” Ywain crowed, nodding toward a berobed, white-haired figure leaning heavily on a staff. “You know, he’s so old folks say the Goddess created him before creating Adrakus.”
Daire folded his arms across his chest. “He’s not that old. I’m told she rested for a few days from all that creating before she made him.”
“Can he really turn people into frogs?”
“No! Father says mages can create portals to other worlds, though, but most of their power comes from watching and learning. He’s more of an advisor than anything.” Though Daire himself had perpetuated the wild tales occasionally. Everyone needed a hobby.
A murmur rose before heads swiveled toward the entrance.
“Ah, and there is His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince,” Ywain observed. “On time enough not to be rude, but nearly late enough to make a grand entrance.”
“Like you haven’t called him ‘crown-boy’ to his face.”
Elouan cut an impressive figure, sweeping down the path to the center of the bowl, head held high, gait steady, probably to keep the ridiculous circlet atop his braided hair.
Daire would never have worn the ludicrously over-tailored ensemble, complete with a cape.
A cape! Who wore capes these days except those who wanted to sweep them overdramatically to make a point?
Elouan’s best friend Teron strode by his side, equally attractive physically, but with no court or wealth of his own. His more practical dress drew attention for how well he wore the simple attire.
“Hello, Teron,” Ywain said in a suggestive tone for Daire’s ears alone. “I’d like to tear into him one night.”
Daire rolled his eyes. “I can’t take you anywhere, can I?”
“You can take me anywhere,” Ywain replied with false humility. His grin promised dangerous things. “But he can take me anywhere.”
How much innuendo could two words create?
A glance at Anrai confirmed Ywain wasn’t alone in watching Teron, though Anrai had long ago mastered subtlety. He could get more details from a surreptitious glance from the corner of his eye than most could from staring.
Daire knew a secret few others did: Anrai would refuse all other alphas for a mere chance with Teron.
Father’s face lit when he spotted Elouan, partly in joy at seeing his heir, partly because Elouan saved him from a rather persistent courtier. “Son!”
Feeling restless, Daire occasionally checked in on Anrai’s flirting with any nearby alphas, ready to step in if needed. The boy, young man really, seemed to draw attention from many eligible alphas. Omega nature drove Anrai at his young age.
If Teron had any feelings at all for Anrai, he’d soon be forced to make them known before someone else swooped in and carried Anrai off.
Families had sequestered royal omegas in the past until the time came for them to imprint on their alpha to encourage a successful match.
A myth long ago proven false, likely started by an insecure alpha who wanted to eliminate competition from a promiscuous mate’s memories.
Alphas didn’t like to be compared unfavorably to others.
Anrai would’ve chewed his way out of confinement if anyone tried to keep him in a tower room.
“Do you see how Anrai pretends not to look at Teron?” Ywain commented. “There must be a story there. Why have I not heard about this? You simply must tell!”
“My brother’s business is his own.” Unless someone hurt Anrai, then Daire would bring out the claws and teeth.
A server brought a round of drinks. Daire chose ale while Ywain selected wine. “Look at me being all fancy tonight!” Ywain lifted his nose at Daire’s drink of choice. “Why do nobles try so hard to look like commoners, while commoners do their best to be mistaken for royalty?”
“I have no idea.” Daire downed a healthy mouthful of ale, settling as comfortably as one could on stone ledges. The seats were what Elouan called “stadium seats,” a term he’d learned during an excursion to the human realm.
How Daire would love to go there, just for a visit, but he’d avoid stadium seating if the human version equaled the dragons’ for discomfort. Squirming on his already numb ass didn’t lessen the hardness of the stone.
Ywain sat on one side next to the aisle, while the rest of Daire’s company gathered on his other side.
Ywain grinned above his glass, dimples appearing in his cheeks.
His blond hair and green eyes differed from most others in the court, where darker hair and eyes were the norm.
No one needed to investigate his lineage to know he wasn’t related to any prospective High Reaches mates.
He turned his share of heads with his lithe build, delicately featured face, and total lack of decorum—and morals.
The smattering of freckles across his nose didn’t hurt his appeal either. Even Daire occasionally fell for his charms.
“Has Elouan started looking for an omega yet?” Halvard asked from Daire’s other side. “My sister is of age now.”
“And far too vain and self-absorbed to be a queen. She already considers herself royalty,” Ywain muttered too low for Halvard to hear over the sound of hundreds of voices. “Knowing her, she’d think a crown prince beneath her.”
“Maybe she’s grown out of the self-absorbed phase,” Daire muttered back, though he could recall encounters with the omega in question which left him feeling like something discovered on the bottom of one’s shoe—in a stable.
“Not bloody likely. Her family dotes on her too much. Halvard only wants to marry her off to make her someone else’s problem.”