by Tessa Dawn
And through it all, Prince Damian was denied the woman he truly loved, unable to gift her with immortality or take her to his bed. It had been a lonely existence and an unfathomable sacrifice, yet the fewer souls who knew of the secret, the better.
The safer life was for all concerned.
Dante sighed, his burden feeling impossibly heavy, his heart growing increasingly weary. At least Prince Drake lived an honest life…
All five of Drake’s children belonged to Tatiana, and they had done wonders with the human province. They had managed to tame the wild Malo Clan—or at least three-fourths of its members—they had pacified the incalcitrant giants. Drake had also been privy to the Realm’s dark secrets, brought in on the betrayal by Dante, told about the Great Deception. He was one of only seven who knew—Dante, Damian, Drake, Mina, Willow, the king’s new witch, Aguilon Jomei, and Thomas Gael, also known as Thomas the squire—and to his great credit, Prince Drake had stood back in silence as the deception continued to unfold.
Year after duplicitous year.
Meanwhile, Dante had raised Prince Dario as his own flesh and blood, refusing to lie with Cassidy out of deference for his beloved Mina. As far as Cassidy Bondeville was concerned, she had gotten away with adultery and gone on to become Dante’s consort, even if the couple had remained infertile ever since. It took little effort on Dante’s part, and even less complicated magic, to convince the Sklavos Ahavi that they coupled from time to time—he simply planted memories of their intimacy, much to Mina’s chagrin, whenever Cassidy grew restless or too lonely. While it may have seemed cruel, it was the best he’d had to offer. Cassidy had never cared for anyone other than herself, and Dante’s heart and his fealty remained with Mina Louvet, just as he had promised. And far beyond fealty or love, he intended to make Mina queen of the Realm, should he be strong enough to succeed his father and reign.
“Shit,” he mumbled coarsely. This was truly a mess of epic proportions. He had one week to tell the truth to Ari, Azor, and Asher; one week to tell the partial truth to Dario—could he ever bring himself to tell the lad that Demitri was his biological father, that his mother had slept with the contemptible king?—and he had one week to marshal his generals and solidify his allies, prepare for the dangerous coup.
He had one week to plan the greatest sedition the Realm would ever see.
But it was time…
It was time.
The balance of power had been illicit too long.
The deception had grown too untenable.
King Demitri was not a moral monarch, even if he was a ferocious beast, and Dante had no doubt that he could now protect the Realm himself, that his dragon, fully formed, could keep all enemies at bay.
It was time for Damian to stop living a lie with Mina and to claim the woman he loved, even if she could never bear him sons. It was time for Matthias to gift Raylea with immortality, and it was time for Dante to honor Mina…and to change the ways of the Keep…before nine Sklavos Ahavi were chosen for the new generation.
For a new Autumn Mating.
It was time for Dante’s alliance with the Lycanians to bear more economic fruit. It was time for restless humans populating the Realm’s commonlands to start exporting the goods they were producing in secret, to ship them to distant lands and provinces, utilizing the twenty Lycanian ships already received by the Realm. It was time for Dante to honor his end of the bargain and start making payments to King Thaon Percy and to provide Lycania with a dragon’s protection, in return for Thaon’s favors—even if the original deal was struck with Damian Dragona, behind all the monarchs’ backs. The neighboring country of Thieves, which abutted Lycania across the restless sea, was “this close” to invading King Thaon’s territory with their vicious, muscle-bound legions, warriors with human bodies, the heads of serpents, and scorpion tails. They were a nation that thirsted for blood and expansion—and it was time for Prince Dante to stop them.
And, alas, it was time for Dante to honor Desmond’s memory: the life of the twin he had lost…
It was time.
It was time.
The Realm needed the sapphire dragon with three fiery, glowing eyes, the third eye symbolizing Dante’s rare gift for magic.
“Brother?” Prince Drake prodded, interrupting Dante’s musings. “You’ve drifted away in thought.”
Dante snorted, coming back to the present moment. “Indeed. My apologies.” He regarded Drake and Damian squarely. “You both know that it is time. We cannot wait forever.” He shrugged, but it was anything but indifferent. “I’ve turned it over in my head a thousand ways: It will never be less dangerous; there will never be a more opportune moment. The secrets, once revealed, will never be less painful or damaging. But this Sunday at Asher’s gala… While the king will have the fealty of the Castle Guard, I will have the whole of the Warlochian army and its generals, faithful to me. I will also have the assistance of our new high mage and Willow the witch, Wavani’s powerful niece and successor, on my side. Willow is wholly and unambiguously dedicated to me and my reign, and she has also kept our secret all these years. For what it’s worth, she also agrees: The time is now. Beyond that, my three sons will be there, the three sides of the triangle, as will you, my loyal brothers, and my magic is at its peak. It has risen with my coming of age and will never be stronger than it is today. Princes—brothers—we must strike while the iron is hot. I wish to give Father the opportunity to step down, to live out his years unmolested, to remain respected and revered as the defender of our Realm throughout the seasons of the diamond king, but we all know, he will not go quietly into the night. He will not go down without fighting; his dragon will be incensed.
“He will seek to tear my throat out, and he may very well succeed. If he does, then the Realm will go on as it has always been, and little will be lost. But if I succeed—if I take the throne—we can usher in a new beginning.” He exhaled slowly as if releasing a decade of angst. “The bottom line is this: None of us can go on much longer as we are. King Thaon is growing restless—Lycania needs our help; the new Sklavos Ahavi are coming of age; and Father has been asking questions, snooping around our provinces, staring at Dario like a piece of delectable meat. He knows the boy is his son, though he has kept the lie all these years. However, if he discovers my alliance with Lycania, if he discovers that we have plotted and proceeded behind his back, I believe he will reveal the secret of Dario’s birth and appoint Dario as successor to the throne in my stead. Once Demitri brings Dario to Castle Dragon, we may never get him back. I believe he would put Ari and Azor and Asher to the sword. I believe he would strike down Mina as well.” He shook his head, belying his fear. “I cannot take that chance—the Realm cannot wait.”
He clasped his hands together and stiffened his spine. “What say you, brothers? Are you with me? Shall we take our homeland back? Damian, are you ready to finally tell Callum Gentry that his son still lives, before the blacksmith passes away? Are you ready to claim Raylea?”
Damian closed his dark brown eyes and shuddered, a hint of his soul’s compassion revealed in the telling gesture. Of course he was ready to reunite with his father, Dante thought. And everything in his primordial dragon’s body wanted to tell—and claim—Raylea, which is why he didn’t expect the prince to answer either question.
Some things went without saying.
“In the thirty-one years that have passed since that fateful day at the beach,” Damian spoke with the brogue of Matthias as he slowly reopened his eyes, “the Umbrasian army has become faithful to me as well—their allegiance no longer lies with our father. I believe my shadow-walkers can neutralize the king’s Dragons Guard.” He glanced at Drake and declined his head in respect. “And you, Prince Drake; you hold the fealty of the powerful Malo Clan in the palm of your hand, at least the vast majority of the fearsome goliaths—and those who still oppose you hate Father with all their hearts—they still blame him for the history of their slavery. They will side against the king. In other words,�
�� he added solemnly, “we can contain and counterbalance the Court, but as you already know, Dante, neither I nor Prince Drake can shift into a fully formed dragon. If you are forced to fight to the death with Father, you must do so on your own.”
Dante nodded thoughtfully, then turned his attention to Prince Drake, his youngest brother. “Prince? What say you?”
Prince Drake crossed his arms in front of his muscular chest and sniffed. “My five sons—Tabor, Tristan, Teague, Thane, and Troy—have grown into strong young dragons. And while I’ve never revealed the depth of our secrets—the totality of the Great Deception—they sense that there is a rift between Uncle Dante, Uncle Damian, and their cruel, aloof grandfather, the king. They will do as I bid, stand where I choose, and offer whatever support I decree.” A glimmer of such deep, unrelenting sadness passed through Prince Drake’s eyes that it almost brought Dante up short.
“Brother?” Dante asked, seeking to unveil the cause.
Prince Drake shrugged what looked like heavy shoulders. “All my memories of Father are painful. Brutal. He was always so punitive and harsh—never capable of kindness or even impartiality. Yet and still, he is our sire, the dragon that gave us life. He is the king that made us princes and the greatest defender, bar none, the Realm has ever known. My heart is saddened at what has become of our family and the Realm at the legacy of Father’s rule. That said, I understand the stakes, and I would die for this kingdom that we love. I am with you, brother, one hundred percent. I have no aspirations for the throne, nor does Damian. If you feel it is time to take your rightful place, if you know it in your gut, then I, for one, am with you. I will do whatever you require.”
Dante felt like the feral, blood-filled chambers of his primitive dragon’s heart were slowly shutting down, like they might simply cease to beat, burdened by too much treachery. Despite his own horrific memories of King Demitri—having all but seven of his bones broken as a child and his flesh repeatedly scorched; losing his twin to the impossible fealty and stifling obeisance demanded of King Demitri’s sons, and the fact that King Demitri had lain with Dante’s Ahavi and to this day concealed the obvious paternity of the child—Dante also felt great sorrow. It would be the end of an era and a betrayal, beneath his honor.
Unworthy of a Dragona.
Nonetheless, it had to be done.
Hardening his heart and allowing the metaphorical chambers to close, he vowed to succeed at all costs. He still had to speak with Mina, with Cassidy, with Dario, and with his true, blooded sons. He still had to meet with his generals, marshal his army, and cavort with the kingdom’s most powerful witch and warlock.
There was much to be done in seven days.
Chapter Two
Princess Gaia Percy stood on the starboard side deck of the large wooden vessel, staring out at the restless sea and its dark, midnight waters. Based upon the position of the moon, it was a trifle past Vespers. The ocean was choppy beneath the moonlight; the sea air was salty, cool, and crisp; and the overall effect was enchanting—and somewhat haunting.
Just like her future.
Tomorrow, she would arrive in Dragons Realm with Dario Dragona, the only son of Prince Dante Dragona, firstborn to King Demitri, and her new life would begin…such as it would be.
She fingered her long, deep-red braid and placed the heavy plait behind her shoulder, narrowing her pale blue eyes as she stared at a particularly turbulent wave. The crest was white and tempestuous; the swell was dotted with foam; and the trough was lined with dark shadows, not unlike her soul. As she felt the ethereal pull of the water, the tug against her heart, she couldn’t help but question how her life had come to this: How had her fate been so easily determined—and forever sealed—in an instant?
How had a princess of Lycania become a dragon’s menial property?
It was true, Dario Dragona had caught her eye several summers back, when she was only fourteen summers old—she was seventeen summers now—and she had flirted with the handsome, dashing prince because she couldn’t help it. But that was all it had been: a flirtation, a youthful romantic fantasy, the internal musings of an adolescent girl. She had never meant to catch Dario’s eye, or worse, to give an idea to her father, the king, Thaon Percy.
From what she understood of politics, King Thaon had usurped his brother’s throne, supplanted Gaia’s uncle Bayard, and she had never had a chance to know the displaced king. Following the infamous battle of Dracos Cove in the 175th year of the Dragonas’ Reign, the season of the diamond king, when the Lycanians had taken a beating, the people had turned on King Bayard and installed King Thaon instead, murdering Bayard in his palace by poisoning. Gaia had been born fourteen years later, during the notorious time of peace, a time when her father had a strong, albeit mysterious alliance with King Demitri’s eldest son, the heir to Castle Dragon’s throne. And nothing—absolutely nothing—meant more to the power-hungry King Thaon than solidifying and strengthening that alliance.
Alas, he had concluded that joining their families would be a certain way to ratify their coalition, and considering that Gaia was thought to be one of the most beautiful maidens in all of Lycania, he had offered her to Prince Dante as Dario’s bride.
There was one major problem…
Dragon princes didn’t marry typical human women, nor did they marry Lycanians. They took Sklavos Ahavi females as consorts, those who had been reared in the Keep—and thus taught to feed, serve, and wed the feral dragons—those rare, special females who could bear dragon-sons.
Gaia was not born with that ability.
However, upon further consideration, it was taken into account that the dragon princes—yea, including the ancient king—kept a harem of Blood Slaves, other female Ahavi who served a simpler purpose: They fed their masters upon demand, and they slaked their carnal needs in their beds at night. It was thought that King Demitri used them at will—as, perhaps, did Dante Dragona, in spite of his consort, Cassidy—that Prince Drake was beholden only to his Sklavos, Tatiana; and that Damian Dragona stayed close to Mina Louvet. What was done by Dario, Dante’s son, as well as Ari, Asher, and Azor Dragona—the children of Damian and Mina—was anybody’s guess. The same held true for Prince Drake’s five offspring: No one truly knew how they fed. Just the same, all agreed that dragons had multiple needs. They were savage, high-strung creatures, their cores imbued with fiery passions, and one woman could not possibly fulfill all a dragon’s needs.
And that had been enough for King Thaon.
As disgusting and vile as it was…
Gaia’s father had offered his only daughter, the beautiful princess of Lycania, to Dario Dragona, in deference to his father, Dante, to be kept—and used—as one of many: a mere Blood Slave who was not even an Ahavi, but could still be trained at the Keep to feed Dario’s inner fire and slake his every need. And he had only asked for three provisions. One, Gaia was to be elevated above the rest: While she could train at the Keep and learn from the governess, she was to live at Castle Warlochia with Dario and, more importantly, in the home of Prince Dante and Cassidy Bondeville. Two, she was not to be used or given to anyone other than Dante’s only son, and three, they were to feed her dragons’ blood to keep her youthful and extend her life, despite the fact that she was already near immortal.
From what Gaia had heard, both Prince Dante and his son, Dario, had refused the generous offering. In fact, the prince of Warlochia had gone so far as to insist there were unknown factors that would dissatisfy King Thaon—he would live to regret the gift—but King Thaon had remained persistent. At last, Dario had traveled across the restless sea to retrieve his royal prize.
“The air is cool; you should go inside.” Prince Dario’s deep, resonant voice played like ghostly notes on the wind behind her, and Gaia spun around on the deck, placing her hand over her heart.
“You startled me,” she gasped, and then she took in his stunning visage: By all the gods, he was as handsome as he was imposing, yet that didn’t change a thing. She still resented
every part and parcel of this insidious arrangement, yet she was wise enough to play her required role…to do her duty. At this point, there was little getting around it. She lowered her heavy lashes and meekly bowed her head. “Do you have use of me this night, my prince?”
The words curdled in her gut.
He blanched and took a graceful step back. “Gaia…” It was all that he said, and it took her aback.
“Yes, milord?” she whispered, waiting for his instructions…or his brutal correction.
He simply shook his head. “You are not Ahavi, and you are born of royal birth. I don’t know that I will ever have use of you in the way your father intended.” He glanced over the ship’s railing, surveying the restless waves, and her heart swelled with cautious hope.
Was it possible?
Could it be?
Might this dragon have a kind or noble soul?
“Milord?” The question came out as a whisper.
He waved his imperial hand through the air and looked off into the distance. “At some point, my father—or the king—will select a group of Ahavi for myself and my royal cousins, those divined to be Sklavos by Willow, the witch, and he will proclaim an Autumn Mating. At that time, we will select our consorts, the females who will give us sons. To keep you…to use you…to discard you…” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. “You are too fine a jewel to be treated as common trash, Princess Gaia.”
