by Jasmine Walt
A loud knock on the door startled the three of them, and they sprang apart. “May we come in?” Rofana called through the door. Drystan wondered if he imagined the knowing tone in her voice. “We have news for you.”
“Yes!” Dareena called back, hopping up from Drystan’s lap. Drystan quickly pushed his chair back behind his desk to hide the sudden bulge in his pants as she let Rofana, Basilla, and Thalmar in.
“Thank you for waiting, my princes,” Rofana said. “The three of us have thought long and hard on this, and after consulting our respective gods, we have come to a decision.”
“And?” Drystan asked, impatient. “What have the gods instructed?”
The warlock priest stepped forward. “Rumas has no wish for Wulorian to continue to rule,” he said. “The warlock god has appeared to me in several dreams, urging me to stand up to him, but Wulorian’s intimidation tactics were quite effective in getting the priests of the other temples to fall in line even when I tried to resist, which greatly weakened my base of power. The three of us have decided that he should stand trial and answer for his crimes against Dragonfell. In the meantime, the head of the warlock council and I must confer on who to appoint as our next king, and we will rule jointly in the meantime under the guidance of our god.”
“Should he not answer for his own crimes in Shadowhaven?” Dareena asked. “Surely he must be punished for killing the previous king.”
“Without proof, it will be difficult to force the king to stand trial in his own country,” Basilla said. “Better that he be tried here, and executed for his crimes.”
Drystan and his brothers exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. “The three of us are agreed,” he said. “Lady Dareena, what say you?”
“I have no objection,” she said, “but we must do it swiftly. The more this drags on, the greater the chances that someone from Shadowhaven will try to rescue him.”
They adjourned, and Drystan went off to gather a council meeting. They would set a date for the trial in the next week or so. Once that was over, they could move on to happier prospects—the wedding and the coronation.
36
“There,” Lyria said, stepping back. “You are finally ready.”
Dareena took a deep breath, then turned around to look in the mirror. Her stomach roiled with nerves this morning, but as she stared, she had to admit she looked good. The ivory dress she’d chosen fit her perfectly, with its off-the-shoulder sleeves, heart-shaped neckline, and wide skirt that flared from her waist. The seamstress had to take it out a bit, as Dareena’s waistline had thickened with all the extra eating she was doing for the babe, but it was barely noticeable. The circlet that held the veil back from her face glimmered, almost like a little crown.
Part of her wished they had been able to do the coronation ceremony first so that she could wear the diadem she’d commissioned for the wedding. But she could not be crowned queen until the marriage ceremony was sealed, and besides, it wasn’t as though she had to wait long. They had decided to combine the ceremonies, and she would be crowned queen right after.
“Oh, you look stunning,” Tildy said with a happy sigh. She and Cyra were standing nearby—they, along with Lyria, had primped and pampered Dareena all morning as they readied her for the big day along with a bevy of maids. Their dresses, the gold and red royal colors of Dragonfell, were ready and waiting for them to slip into, and their hair and makeup were already done.
“The princes will have a hard time keeping their hands off you,” Cyra teased. She came up and fussed with a section of Dareena’s train, which was so long it would take four attendants to carry. Luckily, it was detachable.
“I have been to a few weddings,” Lyria said, her eyes gleaming, “but I have never laid eyes upon a bride so fine. You will be the talk of the kingdom for many months to come.”
That drew a grin out of Dareena. “Why, Lyria,” she said, placing a hand on her lady-in-waiting’s arm, “that might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Lyria smirked. “Well, it is your wedding day. I do have some sense of propriety.”
Her ladies were about finished getting ready when someone knocked at the door.
“Are you ready, Lady Dareena?” Lord Renflaw called through the door.
“One moment,” Cyra cried. She checked her dress one last time, then hurried to the door. “She is ready, my lord,” Cyra said, curtsying.
“She can also speak for herself,” Dareena said, amused. She looked Lord Renflaw up and down; he wore a fine tunic of deep blue that likely cost ten years of her previous salary. “You look quite handsome, my lord.”
“Why, thank you.” Lord Renflaw chuckled. “But I am afraid no one will notice me at all as long as I am standing next to you. That is a truly magnificent dress.”
Dareena took Lord Renflaw’s outstretched hand and allowed him to escort her downstairs. At the buzz of conversation coming from the throne room, her stomach tightened with nerves again at the thought of going through all of this in front of so many people.
“Come now, Lady Dareena,” Cyra chided, sensing Dareena’s mood. “You have tamed three dragon princes, learned how to wield magic, negotiated a peace treaty, and made friends with the most intimidating woman in Hallowdale. This is nothing compared to that.”
Dareena laughed.
Lyria rolled her eyes. “If I were all that intimidating, you wouldn’t dare say such flippant things in my presence, Cyra.”
Cyra stuck out her tongue. “Someone has to challenge you on a regular basis or you will begin to think that you are in charge all over again.”
Dareena exchanged a glance with Tildy, who looked both exasperated and amused.
“If the nobles could hear us, they would be appalled,” Tildy said. “We are going to a wedding, ladies, not a ball.”
Their mood instantly sobered as they reached the doors. Dareena swallowed hard as they opened, and instantly, the gallery quieted. Music began to play, and Dareena stood frozen, staring at the packed hall. There were so many people…
Lord Renflaw squeezed her arm gently, then took the first step. Dareena followed his lead, looking straight ahead. Her anxiety fell away at the sight of her three princes, soon to be kings, standing at the base of the dais. Rofana was there as well, smiling, but Dareena barely noticed, too caught up in looking at her mates. They looked gloriously handsome in their royal tunics, and the red capes around their shoulders, trimmed in ermine, made them look even more imposing and regal. All three of them smiled at her, and her heart swelled at being the center of their affection.
She knew not everyone in the kingdom would accept them. There would always be whispers about their union, no matter that the dragon god had blessed it. But so long as the four of them were together, none of that mattered.
As she drew close to the dais, she noticed Gilma standing up front with Basilla and the rest of Elvenhame’s royal family. She smiled at her old friend, who had tears in her milky eyes, and briefly stopped to grasp her hand and let her know that she was there. She smiled at Basilla as well, then across the aisle where Tariana and her sisters stood proudly, wearing their dress uniforms. Just behind them, the high priest and the council head from Shadowhaven stood, along with the rest of their delegation. The trial and execution were over and done, and though there was plenty of unrest in their kingdom, they had still come to pay their respects, much to Dareena’s delight.
Lord Renflaw gently nudged her along, and in three more steps, Dareena stood with her dragons. As rehearsed, they lined up in a row in front of Rofana, clasping hands.
The music gradually died away, and a hush fell over the hall.
“Lords and Ladies,” the oracle called, raising her hands. “We are gathered here today to join not two but four souls in holy matrimony.” Her rich, feminine voice echoed in the large chamber. “As we pass from an old age into a new one, we must learn to embrace change. The dragon god smiles upon us now, and we shall smile with him as w
e bring his vision to fruition.”
The ceremony was short and sweet, but beautiful. Dareena had gone through pages and pages of past ceremonies, but many of them were impossible to adapt to their situation, so she and the oracle had written an entirely new one.
“With the dragon god’s blessing, we now join the four of you as one,” the oracle said. “Please, exchange your rings now, and join hands.”
Dareena took the gold rings that Cyra handed her and placed them on each prince’s hand. Drystan in turn took the gold and diamond band from his pocket and gently slid it onto her finger. As the four of them joined hands, a current of power rippled through their circle. Dareena knew the others felt it too—they each had the same startled look in their eyes.
“Repeat after me,” the oracle said, “and remember, the words you speak today shall bind the four of you from the first day of your union throughout all eternity, long after you have passed. Do you agree?”
Dareena gripped her mates’ hands tighter.
“I do,” they said as one.
The oracle smiled, then read the vow, which they repeated together.
“In the name of Drogar, the god who cradles us against his breast of fire and protects us in our time of need, by the life that courses within my blood, the love that resides within my heart, and the steadfast devotion that consumes me, I take thee to my hand, my heart, and my spirit, to be my chosen one. To desire thee, to love thee, and to both possess and be possessed by thee. I promise to love thee wholly and completely, to stand by thee in times of both trouble and joy, and to, above all else, have faith in that which we have created and will create together.”
“Very well,” the oracle said. “You may now seal your vow with a kiss.”
Dareena and her mates exchanged foolish grins at that. They released hands, and Dareena came up to each in turn, leaning on tiptoe to press a brief but heartfelt kiss to each of their lips. As she kissed Alistair last, she felt a wave of warmth wash over her. Gasps echoed from the crowd, and Alistair and Dareena looked to see that a golden dome of light had surrounded all of them.
“Would you look at that,” Lucyan murmured, wonder in his eyes.
“It seems that the dragon god is not above performing miracles after all,” Drystan teased in a voice too low for anyone in the audience to hear. Rofana gave him a slightly reproachful look, but there was a hint of amusement in her gaze that told Dareena they had not truly offended her or the god.
“And now,” Rofana said, quieting the crowd again, “while the dragon god is still with us, we shall bestow the divinity of his office upon the four he has chosen to rule our people.” Four attendants came up, each carrying a crown of gold and fire diamonds on velvet pillows. “By the power vested in me,” she said as she placed a crown on each of their heads, “I proclaim you four to be the rightful and just rulers of Dragonfell. Take heart,” she cried to the people, “and rejoice!”
The hall immediately erupted in cheers. Trumpets sang, ribbons and hats were thrown into the air, and Dareena and her mates cheered with them.
“We did it,” Drystan cried, taking Dareena by the waist and lifting her into the air. He kissed her soundly, then set her down just in time for Lucyan and Alistair to shower her with affection as well.
“Come now,” she said, laughing as Alistair put her down. “We must make our way down the aisle now, or these poor people will never make it to the reception!”
“With any luck, neither will we,” Lucyan growled, taking her hand. Dareena’s cheeks flushed at the heated look in his eyes, but she put her desire aside for now as she took her mates’ hands.
Later, they would have time to make love. For now, this celebration was as much for the people as it was for them, and after all the work she and her ladies had put into it these past few months, she had every intention of enjoying the fruits of their labor.
Epilogue
“Shhhh,” Dareena said, gently rocking the babe in her arms. She sat in a rocking chair by the window, looking out at the starry sky while she nursed. “Come now, Kade,” she said, guiding his mouth to her nipple. “Don’t fuss. You know what to do.”
The babe latched onto her teat, and his wailing ceased instantly as he took a long pull. Dareena winced—his little gums were getting much stronger, and he was twice the size of a human babe his age. Holding him securely, she gently stroked the peach fuzz on his head, losing herself in his amber eyes.
He was nearly four months old now, and his features were growing more defined by the day. There was no way to truly know which of her mates had fathered Kaderion—there were some moments where she thought he had Drystan’s serious gaze, others where he gave her Alistair’s gentle smiles, and moments of cleverness that made her think of Lucyan. But it truly did not matter—all three of them treated him as their son.
“You are the only babe in the kingdom with three fathers,” she cooed, pressing a kiss to his forehead and inhaling his scent. “How lucky does that make you?”
“The luckiest boy in Terragaard,” Lucyan said, coming up behind her. She turned her head as all three of her mates entered the room. “Which makes you the luckiest woman, correct?” He winked.
Dareena laughed, tilting her head back to receive his kiss. “How is your father?” she asked as they joined her by the fireplace in their suite. “Has he shown any signs of improvement?”
Drystan shrugged. “His health has improved, and his disposition is vastly different than before the fall.”
“That is an understatement,” Lucyan said wryly. “He has gone from a mad tyrant to a kindly, middle-aged fellow. If he saw a pauper on the street, he might very well give him the shirt on his back.”
Alistair smiled wistfully. “I wish that his memories would return,” he said, “although I fear if they did, his old personality might come back.”
“Did the dragon god not answer when you went to the cave to petition him for a cure?” Dareena asked. “Surely he spoke to you, at least.”
“No, he did not,” Drystan said, sounding disappointed. “Not so much as a peep out of him. I fear that the god either does not have a way to cure Father or does not wish to do so. Perhaps this is his penance for all the evil deeds he committed.”
“I suppose we could always try that spell I found in Shadowhaven’s royal library on my last visit there,” Lucyan said reluctantly. “Though we would have to hire a warlock to do it.”
Dareena shook her head. “That sounds far too dangerous,” she said. “Didn’t it require draining him of nearly all his blood and replacing it with human blood?”
“Yes,” Drystan said, “which at his age would almost certainly kill him.”
“There is no guarantee it would even work—the technique was hypothetical,” Lucyan admitted. “As much as I hate to see Father like this, there are far worse fates he could suffer. At least this way, he is safe and comfortable.”
They fell silent for a long moment, watching tenderly as Dareena continued to nurse.
“He looks so much like you,” Alistair said, leaning in to stroke Kade’s cheek. The babe’s eyes fluttered closed, and he released her nipple, a soft snore coming from his open mouth that made everyone chuckle.
“He looks like all of us,” Dareena said, tucking her breast back into her dress. She handed him off to Drystan—all three of her mates loved to cuddle Kade, but Drystan asked to cradle him far more than the others, and was the first to get up in the middle of the night to comfort him if he cried. “I am very much looking forward to having another of him.”
“Speaking of babes,” Lucyan said, withdrawing a letter from his pocket, “we have received a missive from Tariana.”
“Is she pregnant, then?” Dareena exclaimed in a hushed voice, doing her best not to wake the baby. She hurried around the couch behind Lucyan so she could read the letter over his shoulder.
“Yes,” Lucyan confirmed. “She is three months along, and doing well.” He grinned. “It appears the elven goddess kept her promise and l
ifted the curse.”
“This is wonderful news,” Alistair said, his eyes shining in the dim light. “I imagine that the rest of our sisters will marry, once they have learned the news.”
“Not Xenai,” Drystan said with a chuckle. “As I understand it, she prefers women.”
“Well, they don’t all need to be married,” Dareena pointed out. “Either way, I am sure they will be ecstatic. We will have to make an announcement and hold a grand celebration to mark the end of the curse.”
“Agreed,” Drystan said. “The people will be overjoyed, and I expect it will become a national holiday.”
“Damn right, it will,” Lucyan said. “But enough talk for now,” he said saucily, scooping Dareena into his arms. “You said something about making another baby, did you not?”
“Yes,” she said, grinning at him, “but we have a baby of our own to look after first.”
“Drystan will hand him off to the nurse,” Lucyan declared, already moving toward the bedroom. He dipped his head and caught Dareena’s mouth in his, and the taste of his tongue sliding against hers sent all thoughts of Kade out of her mind. He set her down on the bed and worked at the buttons on her dress, and by the time she was naked, Drystan and Alistair had joined them.
“Yes,” she gasped as they surrounded her, their hands everywhere. Lucyan was beneath her, his hands gently teasing her nipples while Drystan hovered above, kissing her deeply while she stroked his cock. Alistair was somewhere south, nudging her legs apart, and she gasped as he licked her folds, which were already swollen and aching.
She had not made love to her mates since giving birth, for the birth had been strenuous, and the healer had ordered her to give herself time to mend. But as Lucyan pushed his cock into her from below, filling her up, all Dareena felt was pure pleasure. Holding on for dear life, she braced herself for a night of long, wild, intense lovemaking. Dareena was sure it would be one of many such nights, until her belly was nearly full to bursting with child again.
