Arawn flinched and stepped back. “Jeez, Cai.”
Math chuckled at him. “And yet you never invite us to these parties.”
Cai laughed at them. “You grinds schedule business meetings before noon. You can’t stay out until daybreak like I do. I have to attend these parties because that’s where I meet the talent to book into DDI’s casinos and arenas.”
And this was true. Cai had an uncanny knack for finding the brightest, newest, shiniest talent for the casinos and other venues owned by the dragon den’s communal corporation. Usually, between the time he booked an act and when they actually performed, most of them broke out to become huge stars. He could sniff those rising musicians out like a blooddragon.
Arawn said to Cai, “And I needlessly worried that you were showing Silveretti a picture of your girlfriend.”
“Never,” Cai laughed, trying not to show his shiver. “I shy away from women after two or three dates. Girlfriends are for chumps who want to get mated.”
Arawn shook his head. “Sometimes it doesn’t work that way.”
Cai elbowed both of them. “Shut up. The Royal Ones are about to tell us why they dragged us here in the middle of the week, practically at dawn.”
It was fifteen minutes after two o’clock, and Cai had to be back in New York by midnight.
Queen Bronwyn and King Llywelyn settled onto their thrones, smiling serenely at the crowd as befitted dragon monarchs.
Cai could not imagine why anyone would want that lifestyle. His wild, crazed habits suited him much better.
The king stood and looked down at his mate, who nodded at him.
With that signal, he straightened. “Let it be known that Queen Bronwyn and I have decided to abdicate and thus relinquish the Dragon Throne.”
The crowd gasped and collectively drew back.
Cai grinned, even as he rocked backward with surprise. Even they didn’t want to be the king and queen anymore. He didn’t blame them a damn bit.
Arawn didn’t seem quite as shocked as everyone else. Interesting.
As he stood up on the dais, the king continued, “We will retire to live out our remaining days in peace and quiet and to give new blood a chance to lead the New Wales Dragon Clan into the future. Our retirement shall commence three months from now, assuming that the Dragon Scepter chooses a suitable new monarch.”
Last time, the succession had taken three ceremonies. It was still better than the succession-by-combat contests that had been the norm in the centuries before that. Cai’s family, the noble and proud House of Wyvern, had done exceptionally well in the brutal, lethal dragon fights to ascend the throne. Many kings had come from their line. If history were any guide, Cai Wyvern stood an extraordinary chance of being crowned the next Dragon King.
King Llywelyn extended his hands, signaling his regal wish to speak, and waited for the crowd to quiet. He said, “As I said, Her Excellency Queen Bronwyn and I wish to retire to Florida, because evidently, Los Angeles isn’t quite warm enough for aging, cold-blooded reptiles.”
A chuckle ran through the audience. Cai joined in.
Queen Bronwyn smiled primly. She touched her hair, which gleamed regally silver, and adjusted the gold and diamond diadem on her head.
“As is traditional,” King Llywelyn said, gesturing to where two courtiers had entered the throne room, holding a barbell-sized scepter between them, “noble dragons will approach the Dragon Scepter first, followed by those invited by the queen and myself, and then anyone who wants to try their hand, until the scepter selects a new monarch.”
Cai rubbed his hands together, anticipating yet another selection ceremony.
The last selection ceremony had been over two decades before. Cai had been a scrawny teenager when he’d hoisted the Dragon Scepter into the air. Mathonwy and Arawn hadn’t inherited their dukedoms yet, so they hadn’t been allowed to try their hands. Cai, however, had been a brand-new, newly minted duke and peer of the realm, and he’d thrown his lot in to become the Dragon King.
No one had expected Cai to succeed. Him, least of all. He’d ascended the stage and lifted the Scepter because it was expected of all peers, and Cai had fulfilled every last one of a duke’s official and expected duties. He had been young, too young, but he’d done it all.
And the Dragon Scepter had spit sparks and fire before it had petered out.
People had been shocked that someone so young had provoked such a reaction from it. He’d nearly taken the throne, that time.
This time, maybe he would.
Despite the fact that Cai would have to entirely change his lifestyle and no more starlets or rising pop-stars would stick their tongues in his ear, he coveted the Dragon Throne and the monarchy. Ambition and duty roared in his ears.
The king continued, “The Dukes of the New Wales Dragon Clan will now approach the scepter, if they should so choose.”
Arawn and Cai hadn’t moved yet.
“We should do it,” Math said.
Arawn nodded. “Yes, it’s our duty.”
Noobs.
“Why the hell not?” Cai stomped up the stairs to the dais where the two courtiers held the Dragon Scepter. He grabbed the barbell-shaped rod, his fist tight around the center.
The metal warmed his skin and practically spoke to him.
He lifted the long scepter, capped by a crystal orb and gems, above his head.
The scepter’s magic sparked.
The transparent globe on the end illuminated with magic.
He held his breath and watched it. This time, would it be this time?
Red and gold sparks shot from the ends, nearly igniting, nearly catching and turning over—
He gripped it more tightly in his fist.
—and the scepter sputtered.
And it went dark.
Again, the scepter had found Cai wanting, though it had responded to him.
Well, these things always went to multiple rounds, anyway. Maybe he’d become the Dragon King at the next one in three months.
Cai laughed and dropped the scepter back into the pages’ waiting hands. He bowed to the king and queen and leaped off the other side of the dais to the ground.
Wait, he hadn’t really wanted the throne, right?
Arawn strode up the steps of the dais behind him.
Cai started pushing his way back out of the crowd, eager to get the heck away from so many dragons, any of whom might become annoyed at the scepter and go all scaly, especially himself.
He glanced back just in time to see his friend Arawn, Duke Tiamat, slowly raise the Dragon Scepter over his head.
Silver and blue sparks issued from the end, and the orb glowed with iridescent, silvery light.
Wow.
Cai fully turned around to watch, because it looked like his friend was making a run for the Dragon Throne.
Arawn would be a good king. A quiet king, sure, but efficient. He’d make sure the New Wales Dragon Clan was safe and secure for generations.
The Dragon Scepter popped like a burned-out light bulb and went dark.
And so Arawn wouldn’t be crowned that day, either.
Cai turned and began threading his way through the crowd and toward the exit again. Some commotion over by the thrones echoed over the crowd with the king saying, “Let me see that,” but Cai didn’t wait to see what happened. He made some headway, but everyone else was pushing toward the dais and thrones to see.
When the crowd fell silent again, Cai rolled his eyes but twisted where he stood.
His friend Mathonwy Draco held the Dragon Scepter out in front of his chest, and it spat dark and jewel-toned fire.
Cai watched, intrigued, because it looked good. Of the three of them, Mathony, the Duke of Draco, was—
Pffffft.
—and then the scepter coughed and fizzled out again.
It didn’t matter what he was because none of them would taking over the dragon clan after the ceremony.
The line to try the Dragon Scepter snaked around
the dais and toward the back doors.
Cai found a wall and leaned against it, settling the back of his skull on the plaster and closing his eyes. Flying across the entire continent had exhausted him. If he had to turn around and go back tonight, he would pay the price for a week.
Just resting against the wall was heavenly.
Near his shoulder, the dulcet voice of a woman whispered, “I thought for sure it would have picked you.”
Ah, time to be the charming Duke of Wyvern.
Cai opened his eyes.
The woman in front of him was beautiful, with shimmering black hair that fell to her waist and fathomless eyes to match. “Hello, madam. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“I’m Arcadia, the heir to the Earldom of Azdaja. Lovely to meet you.”
“Cai, Duke of Wyvern.”
He shook her hand, and while her skin was pleasant and warm, no warning tingle of the mating fever passed between their palms.
Cai smiled more broadly. “And it’s an absolute delight to meet you. Are you going to try your hand at the scepter?”
She shook her head, her nose wrinkling as she smiled. “I don’t think I’d want it. I’m a poet.”
“Poets can make good monarchs. Certainly better than some we’ve had.”
“Not me.”
“Well, I’d love to attend a reading sometime. Are you published yet?”
“A few, small journals.”
“Congratulations.”
They chatted for a while, exchanging phone numbers and one more lingering handshake where Cai turned her fingers over in his like he might kiss her knuckles, but he didn’t. He took his flirting seriously but slowly, and if the lady preferred to accelerate things, well, she could sit on his lap and stick her tongue in his ear. He had a sterling though thoroughly debauched reputation to maintain.
They were saying their goodbyes when Arawn finally reached Cai, and Mathonwy just a moment later.
Cai asked Mathonwy, “Are you kidding me?”
Math raised an eyebrow at him. “About what?”
Arawn shook his head, his blond hair flopping over his forehead. “Obviously, it’s broken.”
The three of them turned in time to see Maredudd, a back-stabbing dragon whom Cai had never liked and had successfully avoided so far that day, lift the scepter.
A lone, green spark popped out of the end and died on its way to the floor.
Cai laughed.
Arawn rolled his eyes.
Math said, “Seems like it’s working fine to me.”
Audience with His Majesty
AN hour later, Cai managed to stay awake but had not finagled an escape from the throne room. The Dragon Scepter had spit a few sparks and gone dark for everyone who tried it.
Interestingly, it did seem that the three of them—Manthonwy, Arawn, and himself—were the only serious contenders.
The Dragon Scepter must be losing its magical, little mind if it thought Cai was either suitable or willing to be the monarch.
No matter that his pulse had thundered in his ears when he’d lifted it.
Every dragon wanted to rule the clan. The desire to be the apex predator was natural for them. It was practically a breed characteristic, like fluffy tails on a Golden Retriever.
That ranking could change during the next round, of course. An entirely new crop of front-runners could emerge at the next ceremony. There was plenty of precedent for that.
Finally, after the scepter had spit up its last pathetic spark, Queen Bronwyn announced that the clan would reconvene in the Royal Palace in three months to try again.
Always three months.
In the last go-around, when Queen Bronwyn and King Llywelyn had been crowned after the tragic deaths of King Cadfael and Queen Tiwlip, four of these ceremonies had taken place, and the dragon clan had been without effective leadership for nine months. The rumor of a return to succession by combat had rumbled through the clan, but the scepter had finally come through to choose them.
Mathonwy, Arawn, and Cai did not mention the ceremony or the scepter among themselves as they chatted about work and old friends and craned their necks to peer over each other, trying to see what the hold-up at the head of the line was.
Ye Dragon Gods, Cai had to come back to the Royal Palace in three months for yet another one of these ceremonies. Next time, he’d clear his calendar to avoid a frantic flight against the jet stream. He’d pictured terrible things when the summons had arrived on his cell phone: a murder to avenge, major malfeasance to contend with, or the sudden deaths of the monarchs. Quite honestly, if he’d known it was just another choosing ceremony and not even an emergency, he might not have bothered to come.
The line for the rooftop launching pad trudged up the stairs. People climbed one step and then gossiped for minutes about the succession possibilities.
Cai longed to return to the days when royal succession was a forbidden topic and gossipers were charged with treason. The lines moved faster.
Mathonwy said, “The Strategic Investment Committee has identified three possible companies for investment, and two of them are military contractors. Arawn, I’d like you to evaluate—”
Arawn was nodding solemnly. “Military contractors have liability issues—”
Cai stopped listening to them and silently urged the shifters at the front of the line to transform already and get the hell out of the way.
Hours passed.
Or it seemed that way.
Cai nearly threw himself off the steps at least once, but his dragon would have just taken over and not allowed him to die.
Meddling beast.
It snorted at him and went back to sleep. Cai had the distinct impression that it had said, Wake me when you do something interesting.
Well, that was going to be a while.
The doorway glowed ahead of him at the top of the stairs. He could see sunlight! He was almost there!
Just as Cai and his two buddies had reached the front of the line to climb the steps to the turret where they could release their dragons and fly away, King Llywelyn huffed up the last few stairs and caught up to them. “Your Graces, if you could attend me for a few minutes.”
Math said, “I really have to get back to the office for meetings.”
Arawn shook his head. “There are concerns I need to attend to.”
Cai laughed in the king’s face. “I need coffee. A lot of it.” He really did.
King Llywelyn raised one gray eyebrow at them, shifting his crown slightly on his head. “Come on.”
He spun on his heel and stalked away.
Cai looked at his two accomplices, and they sighed and followed the king deeper into the palace.
Dammit.
As they walked, wide windows caught the sea breeze blowing off the Pacific Ocean outside. Gauzy curtains flowed as they walked past a long music room, silent but for the ocean waves crashing against the cliffs far below. It was a nice day for flying in California. Maybe Cai would stay the night. He hadn’t been back to his ducal residence in a month.
The king held open the door to his office and glared at them as they filed in.
Cai was a grown-ass dragon and had held and increased the status and wealth of his dukedom for over two decades. He might have won Llywelyn’s job, those twenty years ago. He glared right back.
Flames tickled Cai’s lower lip and chin. He slurped them back into his mouth.
Two chairs in front of the desk, three dragons.
Cai strode over and took one. Arawn threw him a glance but sat in the other.
Mathonwy, ever the peacemaker, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.
King Llywelyn settled into the office chair behind his wide desk and examined the three of them.
Cai stared back. Dammit, he’d almost been at the front of the line to leave.
The king finally announced, “You three will never find mates hanging out in the dragon dens all your lives.”
Cai laughed out l
oud and braced his hands on his knees, readying himself to stand up and walk away. “I’m out. This conversation just got too kinky for me.”
Arawn growled, “It’s not something that can be forced. You can’t decide to go into mating fever so you can mate on some sort of a timetable or because you think you know better than your biology.”
Math said, “There’s nothing wrong with working in the dens. We’re all busy with our careers and the business of the clan.”
The Dragon King said, “Of course not, but you need to go out into the world and meet other supernatural people, and natural ones, too. There has been too much of dragons marrying dragons the last few generations. It’s not good for anyone. It’s not good politically. It’s not good magically. Families get inbred, and the magic loses its power.”
Math told the king, “Look, I’m not going to go out and target a witch or another type of shifter to marry just because it’s good for the dragon population’s magic levels. Besides, I wasn’t even planning on getting married, or at least not yet. I always thought I would work on my career until I was in my late fifties or early seventies—you know, have a life—and then I’d find someone practical to settle down with. I’m only forty-two. I have decades before I’ll even begin to feel the mating fever.”
The king scowled. “The scepter almost chose one of you.”
Arawn muttered, “Something’s wrong with it.”
Cai rolled his eyes, but he didn’t want to draw the king’s attention to himself. Who did this guy think he was, pressuring them to go out and find their fated mates?
The king agreed, “The Dragon Scepter has been losing its luster, but I think it’s good for another few monarchs. Anyway, we don’t have to worry about it for three more months. In the meantime, may I speak to Duke Draco alone? We have some committee business to discuss.”
Cai bolted.
Arawn passed him as they headed for the stairs.
Cai called to his retreating back, “Arawn? Hey! Where are you going?” They might at least have a meal before he had to head back to the East Coast.
Arawn sprinted up the stairs, bypassing everyone in line.
Dragons and Fire Page 2
