by Abigail Owen
Gorgon clasped his hands behind his back, observing both women. “I’ve never heard of a phoenix having more than one child. Which of you inherited her powers?”
The old king glanced at Brand and Ladon, no doubt wondering which of them he’d have to contend with as High King, as they’d already introduced both women as their mates. No way would he assume that both women had inherited their mother’s powers, not when there’d only ever been one phoenix.
Would he join them if he thought the power of the phoenix had been split or reduced? The appearance of more than one certainly brought into question the idea of a High King at all.
Beyond taking down the current regime of kings and attempting to find a peaceful coexistence between the clans, Ladon had no interest in it. After centuries of being hunted by his own kind, Brand didn’t, either.
But Gorgon already said he was in search of a legitimate High King to follow. So, what would he do? This was the first true test of the entire situation.
“Kasia is the phoenix.” Skylar dropped that bomb of words into the conversation.
Ladon had to physically stop himself from whipping his head down to stare at her. What was she doing? Castrating his power position was what she was doing, dammit.
“I didn’t get anything.” She curled into Ladon, batting her eyes at him with a smitten smile he’d never thought to see cross her face. “But he fell for me anyway.”
Her hand caressed his thigh up near his groin, and Ladon lost himself in those eyes for a heartbeat, only to be harshly jerked back when she gripped him harder, digging her nails in like a cat. “Isn’t that right?”
Obviously, she wanted him to go along with her. She’d better have a fucking good reason. “I took one look and knew she was mine,” he agreed.
He held in a grunt as she tightened her grip. Damn, the woman hated being claimed like that, but pushing her buttons was half the fun. She pushed his enough. Turnabout was fair play.
“I see,” Gorgon murmured. He turned to Kasia and Brand, not dismissively, though. “I hate to ask, but would you mind showing me?”
Kasia spoke up. “You just claimed to know our parents, but you doubt I am what I say I am?”
Gorgon held up both hands. “I mean no offense, but another rumor reached me only this morning, shortly before I arrived.”
Ladon shot a look at Asher, who gave a shake of his head. “What rumor is that?” he asked.
“A woman identified as a phoenix has shown up with a small group of rogue dragons who’ve banded together in the colonies.”
Skylar’s hand stilled against Ladon’s leg. “Where?” she asked.
“In the Andes mountains in Argentina.”
Skylar made no outward reaction, but somehow Ladon knew that information had shaken her deeply. “That had to be me,” she said. “Their intelligence is old.”
Keeping his expression neutral in the face of that information was a damn miracle.
“You were staying in the Andes?” Gorgon asked.
She nodded. “With a group led by a man named Rune Abaddon.”
Behind Ladon, a small noise from Fallon was no surprise. Rune had once been part of his Enforcer team over in the Americas but had turned traitor.
At the same time, Gorgon nodded, as though that information confirmed his intel. “That must be it then. Old information.”
Ladon stood, dislodging her hand, which had gone limp. “Will you join with us, regardless?”
Gorgon considered his face and Brand’s hard expression. “Against Pytheios?”
Ladon and Brand nodded in unison. “Your clan evens the odds significantly.”
“I could be playing you falsely.” Gorgon’s voice was laden with irony.
“That’s a risk we’re willing to take,” Brand said.
Every man in the room nodded.
Ladon held out his hand and willed the other man to shake it. “If you mean what you say about waiting to take Pytheios out, this is your best opportunity, phoenix or no phoenix.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Skylar glanced at Ladon as they walked through the same small hallway she’d used to try to leave him the day she’d confronted her sister. The man was exhausted. Not that anyone else seemed to notice. Outwardly he gave no sign, walking with his usual focused intent, not a hint of slowing steps. But that didn’t fool her.
Apparently, once you had allies, things moved damn fast. In order to take advantage of their increased numbers and not give Brock or his allies time to organize, Ladon, Brand, and Gorgon had put a plan in place within days. One involving a bit of sleight of hand with the players on the board.
The plan, as far as anyone not in their inner circle was aware, would look as though they’d chosen to leave both the blue and black mountains minimally guarded while the bulk of their forces traveled north to the gold mountain, stopping short of invasion. Brand had come up with the perfect location to hole up. One most likely forgotten by his people. The idea was to draw Brock out rather than risk lives attacking on his home turf.
Hopefully the younger shifter’s inexperience would skew his thinking and he’d go for the bait they’d set under his nose.
But if Brock were smart, he’d go where the true threat really was.
They’d be ready either way.
A solid plan. Even Skylar had thought so.
Preparing for it in days, however, trying to keep ahead of the spies and traitors, had been a mad rush involving nonstop work—developing a strategy, training, communicating, coordinating, meeting. It never ended.
Ladon had hardly spent more than an hour in their suite. Even with a dragon’s ability to recover physically, he’d dropped into heavy sleep beside her any time he actually made it to bed.
“I can feel you watching me,” he suddenly said. “What?”
She had to hold in a snort, because no way would he guess that concern for his wellbeing had been top of mind. “Nothing.”
He stopped in the middle of the hall to look down at her with barely concealed impatience. “I’m starting to learn your expressions, Skylar. That’s not a nothing look.”
Stubborn man. “Just thinking through what’s about to come.”
Ladon crossed his arms and waited.
Skylar made a little huffy sound of frustration. “Fine. You won’t believe me anyway.”
“Try me.”
“I’m…concerned.”
“The plan will work.”
She shook her head. “No. About you.”
Gods, she felt like a fool even saying the damn words. How he managed to get her to say this shit was beyond her. This wasn’t the first time he’d made her speak her emotions.
Ladon’s eyebrows inched upward. “About me?” he said slowly.
Yup. He didn’t believe her.
She shifted on her feet and glanced away. “You’re about to lead a major offensive, but you’ve hardly slept.”
“I’m fine.”
With a roll of her eyes, she stalked in the direction they’d been headed. “I know that. But don’t tell me you’re not exhausted.”
Silence greeted that statement, and she dared a glance his way to find him walking with flat-lipped determination. But he didn’t deny it.
“Don’t treat me like a child,” he finally said. “That’s the last thing I want from you.”
What did he want from her? Because she’d gone into this assuming he just wanted a figurehead queen, but he’d insisted she share his bed, and he watched her with a possessiveness that seemed to go beyond being a new mate.
Or she was seeing things.
“If I were treating you like a child, I would’ve made you come to bed at night. But that’s not who you are. I’ve never seen someone so relentless—”
Ladon snorted. “Have you looked in the mirror?”
Sh
e ignored him. “Just remember that you may be a king, but you’re also mortal.” She grimaced. “Even with a phoenix for a mate.”
Ladon paused at the door that led to the training room. He frowned at her upturned face, searching her expression for who knew what. “And you’re concerned.”
She couldn’t pinpoint the tone in his voice. Confused, if she had to guess. Skylar shrugged and tried to brush this entire conversation off. “Just pointing things out.”
Ladon’s eyes narrowed. “I see.”
She doubted that. Honesty, even with herself, was something she’d been trying to avoid since mating this man.
Entering a new code in the key panel—a code now changed daily after Skylar shared how she’d gotten it—Ladon opened the door. Skylar followed him into the massive training arena situated between two dragon-sized doors. One led deeper into the heart of the mountain where the city was located, the other outside to the canyons. While she’d been hiding, Skylar had avoided coming anywhere near this room, which always seemed to be full.
Even more so now with blue, black, and a handful of gold dragon shifters gathered inside.
A man from the Blue Clan, if his watery blue eyes were any indication, stood at the sight of them and nodded at Ladon. “Káthor.”
Ladon returned the nod and kept walking.
Another man stood and nodded, obviously some sign of respect. “Káthor.”
Then, almost as they lined up, every man they passed stopped what they were doing and came to a sort of attention, saying the same word. Káthor.
This wasn’t the first time she’d seen this behavior, but with so many in the space, this was the most obvious. Before she could ask Ladon about it, they reached his men. Men she’d come to realize more and more were beyond bodyguards, more than his best warriors. They were his friends, those closest to his heart.
She only had to spend one day with the man to pick that up.
As they approached, Skylar observed their training with curiosity. All seven men and Arden sparred in a large ring, though no one seemed to be for or against another, each fighting only for himself. They moved almost faster than she could track, trading blows. It quickly became apparent that each was skilled, though in different ways.
The brothers, Rainier and Ivar, worked together, back to back or tag-team style. They didn’t seem to need to see each other to know what the other was doing. Fallon, meanwhile, tended to change up his moves, switching fighting styles depending on who he faced off against. Smart. Duncan charged, bringing the full weight of his size to bear in each strike, the crack of his fists against the others making Skylar wince. Wyot, however, circled from the outside, picking off anyone Duncan pushed his way. Arden was easily the fastest, dodging the men like a viper and striking just as quickly.
But Reid and Asher were undoubtedly the most skilled. A long scar down Asher’s back made total sense now. She’d seen him in dragon form, missing an entire half of the barbed spike on the end of his tail. Most likely lost in battle. He fought with a directness that should’ve telegraphed his intentions, but moving with such speed, his opponent couldn’t see it coming. He also kept a knife at his belt, which he produced practically out of thin air.
On the flip side, Reid—who apparently had a diamond tattoo over his heart now that she saw him with his shirt off—fought with cunning, studying his opponent and using weaknesses against him or her. The third time Reid took the legs out from Ivar, Duncan’s rusty laugh filled the space. “Reid. How do you do that?”
Breathing hard, Reid held out a hand to Ivar, still on the floor. “I aim for the legs.”
“So do I,” Ivar muttered, though he grinned around the words.
Reid grinned back. “Move faster.”
“You are a slow bastard,” Rainier said. Only to have Ivar take out his legs with the same move Reid had used.
“What do you know?” Ivar chuckled. “Moving faster does work.”
Maul suddenly appeared out of nowhere. As soon as he spied Rainier still on the floor, he gave a yip Skylar hadn’t heard since he was a puppy and gave the man a slobbery lick up his face.
Rather than gag at the putrid-smelling rotting breath—a smell Skylar was intimately familiar with—Rainier got to his feet with a laugh. “I’m okay, mutt. Is this what you want?”
He reached up and scratched Maul behind the ear. He definitely knew the spot, because the massive black dog started to kick his back leg.
Ladon stepped forward, and all his men quieted, their focus entirely on their leader.
“Maul. Go to Kasia,” Ladon ordered.
Without even a huff, the hound disappeared.
“Men. Arden.” His sister nodded at the acknowledgment. “Today we must separate.”
Duncan scowled, even as Rainier and Ivar exchanged confused glances.
“Separate?” Asher asked.
“Fallon will stay here. We’re bringing Gorgon’s Healer with us.”
Fallon nodded an acknowledgment. Despite his previous role as an Enforcer in the Americas, as a Healer, he was most likely to be left behind frequently, too important to risk in direct battle.
“Ivar, Rainier. You will also stay.” He gave them a significant look, because this part of the plan had been worked out ahead of time. This speech was for any spies within the mountain. “If the mountain is attacked while the bulk of our warriors are away, I need you here to lead.”
“Ivar?” Ladon demanded.
“I am with you, Káthor.” He glanced at his brother, whose glower needed no interpretation. “Rainier as well.”
“Good.” Ladon looked to the others. “We will be splitting into three separate groups to travel to the Gold Clan’s stronghold in Norway. Duncan, Wyot. You will lead one group. Reid. Arden. You take the second.”
His men nodded.
Skylar blinked her surprise at that. He must truly trust Reid if he was sending his sister with the man.
“Asher, you’re with me.”
“Káthor.”
There it was again.
As if a sixth sense called to her, Skylar turned to find Kasia standing near the far wall, waiting there while Brand and Gorgon, along with Gorgon’s man, Samael, crossed to where Ladon stood.
Skylar went to her sister. Ladon had already discussed all the plans with her. She didn’t need to be there for this. She’d spent a lot of time with Kasia in between, touring the mountain, discovering for herself the people Ladon was working so tirelessly to defend.
My people now. She still couldn’t quite wrap her head around that idea. After all, she’d intended to leave them when this was over. Except now she had faces and names to put with her new clan. So many faces. People who needed what she could bring them as the phoenix. Dragon mates turned from their human lives to the lives the fates had set for them. Children who’d known only hunger and a constant state of apprehension. Elder dragons with far-flung memories of her mother and father. Though fewer of them existed, having been purged by the old kings or died when a mate was killed. Ladon’s parents had gone that way, though she didn’t have details.
Still, leaving would be easier if she didn’t have those faces in her head. Or a certain face with blue eyes and a ragged scar…
“What does Káthor mean?” She blurted the question at Kasia.
“It’s an ancient dragon shifter word. It literally means ‘fire king’ and is a term of—”
“Respect,” Skyler finished for her. Yeah. She’d picked that up, but she was no longer surprised when it came to him.
She shook that thought off and tried instead to think of what was coming next.
The forces would’ve departed sooner, except Gorgon’s men had to fly up from Turkey where they were based. Now a tornado of blue and black dragons swirled through the chamber. A handful of the gold dragons who’d been part of the attack on Ladon’s clan, but who
had since sworn allegiance to Brand, his mark starkly black against paler primarily Scandinavian skin, glittered like stars in an inky night sky against their blue and black allies.
Ladon stood, still human, in the center of the activity—the eye of the hurricane—with Brand and Gorgon.
A small tug on the sleeve of her shirt had Skylar looking down to find a small child regarding her. A little girl with blue eyes this side of violet, starkly beautiful against teak skin, and adorable with a head full of curls.
Skylar dropped to one knee. “Hi.”
The girl’s small face remained solemn. “You’re the phoenix, right?”
Skylar shared a smiling glance with Kasia. “One of them. Yes.”
Confusion pleated the child’s brow. “Where are your feathers?”
“Feathers?” Skylar chuckled to hide an abyss of sadness that innocent question inadvertently had her hovering over. “You know how you don’t see a dragon’s wings or scales until he or she shifts?”
A nod.
“Well…my feathers come out when there’s fire.” The real ones would manifest the day she died, right before she turned to ash.
Like her mother.
She didn’t dare glance at Kasia. Neither of them could afford to be emotional. Not now. Not with everything else happening. They’d mourn their shared loss one day.
Today was not that day.
“Are you going to fix everything?” the girl asked.
The question knocked through Skylar like a punch to the gut. Other than being handy in a fight, what could she do? Being a phoenix, so far at least, hadn’t brought good fortune. Only pain. “Is that what your mother told you?” she hedged.
The girl shook her head. “My baba.”
“Rukiya.”
The girl jumped as someone called her name. Someone with a thick Scottish accent. She turned, her serious expression dissolving into childish delight. “Baba.”
Duncan, all six foot four of him, bent down to scoop her up, earning a childish squeal for his efforts. He settled her in the crook of one arm. “Sorry if she was bothering you.”
