A Lair So Loyal (The Last Dragorai Book 2)

by Zoey Ellis

  Swiping away her tears, she opened the door. “I will see him now,” she said to the aide, who inclined her head before walking away. “But I will make it quick,” she muttered under her breath as she patted her eyes dry.

  Leaving her room, she headed through the corridors toward the stairs that would take her to the old section of the sanctum. It had been built directly into the mountain, like all the dragorai lairs, with winding corridors and large cavernous rooms. As time wore on, and the Mheyu needed more space to store and organize their artifacts and records, and as more abandoned children arrived, a new, larger building had been constructed down the side of the mountain and into the valley below. Oshali wound through the corridors until the smooth, ecru walls became dark grey rock, and flickering lamps lit her way as the corridors led deeper into the mountain.

  Turning into another upward sloping corridor toward the meeting ledge, she pulled a thin silk wrap from her inner robe and affixed it over the lower half of her face, securing the ties around her head and ensuring it was in place over the bridge of her nose.

  She was not permitted to speak to the dragorai without it—in fact, none of the fosters were advised to reveal their faces to an outsider of the sanctum— but it wasn’t as though they frequently had the opportunity to. Mheyu sanctums existed all over the Twin Realms, but this particular one was situated on the mountain range of the dragorai she was about to meet, and no dragorai tolerated strangers roaming their territory.

  She stopped at the exit that would take her out onto the ledge and fixed the hood of her robes over her head, tucking her hair behind her ears to keep it out of the way. The Mheyu had been extremely strict about her responsibilities, attire, and behavior when it came to meeting with the dragorai. They’d trained her from the age of thirteen in preparation. Five years of studying them and learning how to interact with them. Of course, nothing prepared her for the real thing.

  Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to calm, focusing her mind and encouraging her heartbeat to slow. She was taught to be calm and measured in front of the dragorai, although that had hardly happened in the last few years. He always seemed to push her boundaries, challenge her, rouse her out of the calm, level-headed behavior she had been trained to present.

  Clasping her hands in front of her, she stepped onto the ledge, which was a wide, flat area near the top of the mountain, big enough to maintain a distance of ten feet between Oshali and the dragorai-alpha. The Mheyu had been specific about maintaining a proper distance. If the dragorai stepped forward, she was required to retreat into the sanctum. The dragorai knew he was not permitted to come any closer to her, and in the seven years she had been his contact, he’d never moved from his allocated spot by the edge.

  He was already standing waiting for her and she kept her eyes down, drawing in a deep, quiet breath to prepare herself as she took her usual position. A nervous jitter quivered in her stomach, as it always did when she was in front of him. She wasn’t sure if it was his gaze or his voice, or the fact that he was such a powerful and dangerous being. He was also the man who had bought her to the sanctum, after finding her as a baby, abandoned in the realm.

  Once in position, she calmly lifted her eyes to meet his.

  Tyomar.

  Dark, almost black eyes glared back at her, and Oshali forced her jittery nerves into submission so she wouldn’t turn and run back inside like a child.

  Tyomar had all the known features of dragorai. Huge and muscular, he was taller and wider than most alphas. His deep voice, rich and textured, boomed even when he spoke normally, and an animalistic energy permeated every part of him, making him look like he was about to strike, even when he seemed relaxed.

  But those weren’t the only things that made him so interesting. In all her studies of the dragorai, she had not realized that they could be so… stunningly handsome. She had always thought of them as ferocious alphas—as beastly and monstrous as their dragons. And somehow, she thought that would mean a grotesque and frightful appearance. She was incredibly wrong.

  Tyomar wasn’t just good-looking—he had been crafted from the same exquisiteness reserved for the Goddesses. Every inch of his face was angled to perfection, and although he naturally had a dark, thoughtful expression, smiles and laughter transcended his looks. His slightly large nose was saved by the sharp boldness of his defined jaw and close-shaved head, and the shape of his pillowy lips had drawn her attention more than she’d ever admit. His beautiful, golden-sepia skin indicated he was originally from one of the Acuazian peoples, who had once lived along the border between the North and South dominions. From her studies, she’d learned that dragorai clans were formed through the bloodlines of their dragons and not the alphas, so the alphas who bonded to dragon brothers could come from any family in the Twin Realms. Oshali found it fascinating that alphas born of different mothers and fathers could have such kinship and similarities between them solely based upon their intrinsic connection to their dragons. She often wondered if Tyomar’s brothers were as handsome as he—it seemed impossible. But that was the power of the Seven Goddesses; they could make whatever they wanted become a reality.

  “Why have you not agreed to an audience with me in the last month?” Tyomar demanded as soon as her eyes met his.

  Oshali tightened her fingers together, her nervousness expanding. It was madness that she’d spent seven years feeling this way around him, but no matter what she tried, her jitters hadn’t waned. The only time they flourished into something pleasurable was when he smiled, so she hoped for a smile each time they met. But it was unlikely he would smile today. In fact, he looked annoyed. She wasn’t surprised—he didn’t like when she refused to see him. The Mheyu guardians were not bound to servitude with the dragorai, but he and his clan acted as though they were.

  Oshali held his gaze for a moment, then spoke calmly. “By the grace of the sacred Seven, we welcome you, Anointed One. We are eternally thankful for your presence and ask that you accept our humble gratitude and respect as we seek to preserve and honor the existence of our historic and distinguished culture bestowed by the Seven. Our discussions may later be documented for this purpose, but you are free to ask of us what you wish.”

  Tyomar’s jaw flexed as she recited the welcome prayer. He rarely minded that she had to say it, but it seemed like he was going to be difficult today.

  “Why have you not agreed to an audience with me in the last month,” he repeated as soon as she’d finished, his voice hard.

  “Last time we met,” Oshali began, “I explained I would be in training for much of the last week of the new moon. That expectation did not change.”

  His expression hardened. “And what if there was an emergency? What if I needed an audience with you as a matter of urgency?”

  Oshali resisted from making a face, but cocked her head and spoke firmly. “I cannot see what emergency there could be that would involve the Mheyu. We do not offer information as a way of problem-solving. As you know, our purpose is to observe and record. We do not interfere in the affairs of your clan or—”

  “Something has happened that is important for you to know,” he interrupted stiffly, crossing his arms, which caused his biceps to bulge even larger. Oshali resisted from dropping her eyes to his arms. “I consider it highly urgent.”

  Irritation fluttered in Oshali’s chest. “What is it?”

  “My brother has mated.”

  All annoyance dropped away as surprise hit her. “Mated?” She stared at him “How? There are no more dragorai females.”

  “I know that,” the dragorai said. “And yet he has been able to mate with a female omega.”

  “A normal mortal?”

  “It is unclear exactly what she is. No dragon has claimed her.”

  Well, of course not. Female dragons died out centuries ago. Oshali’s gaze drifted out over the view of the range behind him as she gathered her thoughts, thinking back to all her studies about the dragorai, their history, their mating rituals—e
verything. Nothing suggested that a suitable mate for a dragorai-alpha could be anything but a dragorai female—an omega, who was bonded to her own dragon. How could this be possible?

  “There is something else,” Tyomar said after a long moment passed.

  Her eyes flicked back up to him.

  “She is with child.”

  Oshali’s eyes widen, excitement sparking throughout her body. This was incredible! The omega had to be a dragorai female. No other could conceive with a dragorai male. Yet that thought surfaced even more questions.

  With the Vattoro clan of five brothers being the last of their kind, and no more female dragorai, they were on the verge of extinction. So how had this female suddenly appeared? Did she have dormant dragorai blood that reacted to them? Had the Goddesses, who had long stopped appearing to their people, intervened somehow? So many questions shot through her mind, accompanied by an intense curiosity. “How did you discover her?” she asked.

  After Tyomar explained what had happened, Oshali asked him very pointed questions that she knew the guardians would want to know. She tried to stick to what was relevant, but when the opportunity arose, her curiosity got the better of her. “What is she like?” she asked. “The omega?”

  The dragorai cocked head, his eyes narrowing a little. “She is like… a female.”

  Oshali almost rolled her eyes. “Is she friendly? Is she quiet? Does she have a big personality? Where is she from?” She shot him a pointed look, unsure how to be any clearer. “What is she like?”

  The dragorai’s expression didn’t change, though an amused look softened his gaze. “She is like a female, little cloak. There is no further distinction I’m willing to make.” He uncrossed his thick arms, as though that was the end of the discussion. “She is my brother’s mate,” he added, as though that explained everything.

  Oshali exhaled a harsh breath. Sometimes she was sure he avoided answering her questions on purpose, and she absolutely hated when he called her “little cloak,” as though she were a child playing at being a Mheyu. Just because she was the youngest to hold this position didn’t mean she took it any less seriously than the other Mheyu.

  When she was introduced to him at the age of thirteen, the guardians had explained extensively to him why she was the one selected to start training at that age, and even though they listed all her accomplishments, his sole comment had been about her small cloak. It was as though he kept mentioning it now to remind her that she was a child. But she wasn’t. “I am pleased you have come to us with this information,” she said, returning to formalities. “Is there anything further I can assist you with?”

  “Yes,” the dragorai growled. “I want to know all the details about how someone like this female could come to be and who would know about it.”

  Oshali shook her head. “There are no texts that explain this.”

  “Someone has to know.”

  “I’ve studied everything there is to know about your kind,” Oshali said. “I frequently reread the texts. Nothing even suggests this in any of them.”

  “She had been told information about us. Someone has to know.,” he insisted.

  Oshali frowned. That was certainly strange. Who could know more than the Mheyu? “I will discuss with the guardians,” she assured him. “They may want to investigate further.” She paused for a moment. “Do you think there are more females out there who your brothers can mate with?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, thoughtfully. “It must be possible, but I don’t know how we can find them or if there are enough for all of us. The discovery of this female was completely random.”

  As he spoke, the realization of what she’d asked him ebbed over Oshali until it crashed into her awareness. More females who could mate with them meant he could be mated too. No. A hot, unpleasant prickle surged in her chest. She desperately did not want that.

  Oshali froze for a moment, trying to identify the sensation she was feeling. Why wouldn’t she want the dragorai to find their mates? It would be exciting for the Mheyu and good for the Thrakond culture if the dragorai could breed again. It would certainly change the nature of the ongoing war between the North and South if the dragorai were more plentiful. Why wouldn’t she want that? Her eyes flicked back up to Tyomar. Because some other woman would have him. He would claim his mate and be devoted to her, and have young with her, and… A furious rush of sourness descended on her, roiling in her stomach. Oshali forced the feelings and thoughts aside, shocked with herself.

  “I assume this will a priority for the Mheyu,” Tyomar was saying. “This is recent information that has to be incorporated into your records, yes?”

  Oshali nodded. “Are your brothers and the omega willing to be interviewed?”

  He thought for a moment. “Is that the only way?”

  “Yes, unless you have any documentation we can file?” she said pointedly. “We will need to record your own words down into history.”

  The dragorai was silent for a long moment and then dipped his head in a sharp nod. “It would be worth it.”

  Oshali almost grinned at his expression. Tyomar knew well that his brothers would be difficult about being interviewed. The Mheyu were so precise, controlled, and specific about collecting the information they wanted, and the dragorai were notorious for doing what they wanted and when they wanted. It would certainly be a tussle of wills.

  She straightened. “By the grace of the sacred Seven, we thank you for your presence at our sanctum, and are grateful for your understanding of our favor of the Seven. We welcome you back here whenever you—”

  “Is that it?” Tyomar interrupted, frowning at her.

  Oshali paused. “What do you mean?”

  The dragorai peered at her for a moment. “Last time we spoke you told me you were not sleeping.”

  Oshali pressed her lips together to stop herself from snarling, but couldn’t help glaring at him. “I didn’t. If you recall, you… commented on my appearance.” It had been the first time he’d mentioned her looks at all, and he’d chosen to insult her by saying her eyes looked tired. She had tried not to react, as per her training, but she couldn’t help but snap at him. Her eyes were the only part of her he’d ever seen. It made sense he would notice if something was different in them, and yet, she hated that he’d criticized her looks.

  Unfortunately, his eyes were roaming over her again. “It looks like you have been getting enough sleep this time,” he murmured. “But something is still wrong.”

  Oshali blinked in surprise and then averted her eyes. She hoped he couldn’t tell she’d been crying. Deep down, she was pleased he was observant, but she refused to get distracted talking about her personal opinions or problems today. He wouldn’t understand and she wasn’t even supposed to. “There has been a lot happening recently, that’s all.”

  Tyomar stood watching her for a long moment, with an expression she couldn’t place. “You do not have to become a Mheyu Guardian if it is too much for you right now,” he said finally. “You are very young.”

  Annoyance surged in her with his reference to her age once again, but she forced herself to brush it aside. “It’s too late,” she said. “I’ve already completed most of the training.”

  Tyomar dipped his head. “Then I wish you well.” He hesitated, his voice deepening and burrowing straight into her trembly insides. “But I will not tolerate you refusing my requests again, little cloak. If I arrive and request an audience, I will not be denied. Is that understood?”

  When she nodded, she finally got what she always hoped for in every meeting. His smile.

  His mouth was a fascination for her, but when he smiled, the cutest dimple appeared on the right corner of his mouth. It was breathtaking. The jittery feeling she constantly battled with finally calmed, swooping through her and settling into a pleasant hum.

  “I shall let my brothers know the interviews are not optional,” Tyomar said, glancing up to look for his dragon. It was always nearby, soaring behind him in the s
ky or screeching overhead as it waited to be called upon—flight was the only way to reach the platform.

  Oshali exhaled a breath. “I’m sure the guardians will want to send you notification of when they will take place. It would be helpful if you could convince your clan to abide by their schedule.”

  Tyomar’s gaze returned to her. “Will you be interviewing?”

  “I doubt it,” Oshali said. “This will be too important for a novice to do. I suspect the guardians will conduct the interviews themselves.”

  Tyomar nodded. “Farewell, little cloak.”

  Oshali inclined her head and recited the farewell prayer. As he began casting incantations, magic gathered, surrounding him and lifting him into the air. The way magic responded to him was always fascinating and Oshali watched him turn and soar out over the range toward the gigantic beast of a dragon coming toward them.

  “Farewell, Tyomar,” Oshali muttered as she watched him.

  “And this is everything he told you?”

  Oshali nodded. “Those are the exact words he said, Guardian.”

  Guardian Vy carefully poured boiling water into her teacup and placed a bright blue inkledew flower on top. They both watched as the color from the flower bled into the water and causing it to churn and bubble until it deepened to dark purple and sent a fragrant aroma around the room.

  “Why did you refuse to meet the dragorai for nearly a month, Oshali?” Guardian Vy asked, her tone quiet and measured.

  Oshali stiffened. Vy sounded disappointed. “I was focusing on my studies,” she replied carefully. “I warned him I may be unavailable for a few weeks so he would be aware. Obviously, I didn’t know that something like this was going to happen.”

  Guardian Vy lifted her teacup and took a sip before placing it down carefully. She lifted the drooping flower from the cup, dropped it into her mouth, and chewed slowly. “How many times did he request to see you?”

  “Eight,” Oshali said, her stomach sinking.