Arawn, the Duke of Tiamat, was tall and more Germanic-looking. He was blond as a Norse god, with the wide shoulders necessary to wield a war hammer. His eyes held the blue-hot fire of a deep-space star, and he was a bit more somber than the other two guys. Willow, of course, was as slender as her name, as if the steam from her potions had made her sweat off any excess weight.
Cai and Ember joined them for the gala opening, and as soon as they walked up, she felt Cai tense. She sent a pulse of comfort through their bond, and he relaxed a little, but the air was definitely snapping with something aggressive.
Willow and Bethany glanced up at their respective mates, too, and all three girls shrugged and eye-rolled at each other. Men.
Math extended his hand to Cai. “So, this project is finally finished, and we can all go back to New Wales tomorrow.”
A frisson of anticipation ran through Cai that Ember could feel as a shiver of wanting. Cai said, “Yes, I suppose this casino somehow managed to open on time and with a spectacular display in the fountain out front that no longer smells like a medieval gutter, thanks to my dragonmate.”
They all laughed, though Ember’s face warmed because she was blushing.
Yes, when they had walked in through the courtyard in front of the casino, the elementals had all been working in sync, or at least their mutual antagonisms were all equally matched. The fire, water, and whirlwinds had been astonishingly beautiful as they towered, fell, and lit up the night sky.
Arawn said, “And those algae-sucking apparitional serpents are healthy and rambunctious due to the expert care of my dragonmate,” and he smiled fondly at Willow.
They all agreed, smiling and nodding.
Math said, “And the hotel and casino were in excellent shape for the opening, due to the efforts of my dragonmate and her many apparitions.”
They all nodded and agreed again.
Ember wondered just how long this friendly competition between the three alpha dragons was going to remain friendly because all three of them were eyeing each other like this could get interesting.
Finally, after a bit more subtle one-up-manship, the three girls dragged their dragon shifter husbands to the far corners of the room.
Once Ember got Cai over by the buffet, she grabbed a plate and attacked the table. “What was all that about, really?”
Cai sighed. “We’re all a bit worked up about whether the Dragon Scepter will pick a new monarch tomorrow, and whether it will be one of us. Like I said, dragons used to claim the throne through trial by combat. That’s the natural order, and to some extent, our dragons are preparing to go to war tomorrow. The dragon testosterone is running a little thick, today.”
She laughed at him. “Would you really fight and kill your friends since childhood for some throne?”
The emerald fire in Cai’s eyes leaped higher. “Absolutely.”
Cai, the Duke of Wyvern
CAI squired his dragonmate, Ember Niamh-Wyvern, through the crowd that once again filled the Dragon Palace. He led her, trailing him, through the crowded hallways to the throne room where the ceremony would again take place.
Dragons, drooling dragonfire at the presence of so many other reptiles packed tightly into the palace, stood with their mates, who were generally witches or mages, other shifter varieties, natural humans, or the occasional glamorous fae.
All wore formal attire for the event that occurred once a generation, if that. The men wore tuxedo-tailed morning suits in sherbet and dark colors or suits for the more casual gentlemen. Considering that Cai organized everything from rock concerts to orchestral classical music performances, he had a large and varied closet. He could attend anything from a grunge festival to his own coronation with what he owned, and that latter possibility was exactly what he was banking on. Cai had chosen a medium blue morning coat and trousers with a peach vest and cravat to wear as he tried to win the Dragon throne that afternoon.
The women crowding the hallway as they made their way into the palace wore black or navy formal gowns. Some of the younger women wore jewel-toned dresses. Ember was wearing a wonderful dark blue gown that skimmed her curves and made Cai want to find a secluded niche somewhere in this house. As the Dragon Palace was constantly full of randy dragons and their mates, he doubted that such niches existed. Word would have gotten out.
“This is nice,” Ember said to him, speaking loudly near his shoulder as he shoved through the crowd. She looked up at him with eyes filled with black fire and stars. “I thought it would be more like a castle, but I love Spanish Revival. When was this built?”
“The 1920s. Some movie director owned it first, but we bought it when we formally moved the clan to California.”
“The exposed beams are amazing.”
Cai glanced at the dark wood beams holding up the white plaster ceiling. “Sure.”
Ember said, “And your house is so beautiful.”
“Our house,” he said absently as he dodged around a couple and made sure not to walk between a dragon-mated pair. No use having a dragonfight before the scepter ceremony. There was always a chance for one afterward.
Still holding Ember close to him, Cai passed into the main throne room, which doubled as a reception hall and ballroom. The throne dais was still set up on the far end, and so he started pushing through the crowd to get close to that, too.
In his other hand, his phone vibrated.
Arawn had texted, Are you here yet? It was supposed to start ten minutes ago. I can’t believe you’re late for my coronation.
Jackass. Cai would show him. He thumbed his phone, texting, We’re here. In the back. Did they start serving booze yet? I don’t see any.
Math’s contact texted into their group chat, No booze yet. Either they’re saving the champagne to celebrate my crowning or they’re worried about starting a drunken, hundred-way dragonfight that will burn down the palace.
Cai swiped on his phone. It’s okay if I’m late. The ceremony won’t be over until I’m wearing the crown. If I were late, it would just give more of you the chance to try and fail.
Behind him, Ember laughed as they made their way through, “Excuse us. Excuse us! Thank you!”
Cai was halfway through the crowd, near the middle of the ballroom and underneath the largest of the extravagant chandeliers, when his arm was grabbed by Lord Dyl, the Earl of Ladon. Dyl Ladon shouted into Cai’s ear above the din of the crowd, “Please, my lord Cai, allow me to introduce my brilliant and beautiful daughter Nerys—” Lord Dyl caught a glimpse of Cai’s eyes. “Oh, nevermind.”
Cai whirled Ember, who was still giggling, up beside him. “Lord Dyl, may I introduce my lovely dragonmate and duchess, Ember Niamh-Wyvern.”
Ember grinned and stuck out of her delicate, little arm in a graceful way that made Cai want to chew on it. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Charmed,” Lord Dyl sighed and looked behind them into the crowd. “Oh, my Lord Tagnik’zur! May I introduce you to—”
Nerys winked at Cai as her father dragged her off to be introduced to Lord Tagnik’zur. A few sparks, the earliest sign of mating fever, sparkled around the edges of her eyes.
Well, no matter her father’s efforts, it looked like Nerys had already met someone, probably someone eminently unsuitable if her father was still playing his game. Cai grinned back at Nerys and saluted with two fingers.
With a few more minutes of determined work, Cai and Ember reached the people standing by the throne dais. Math, Arawn, and their wives were already there, of course. They believed that clock-punctuality was a cardinal virtue, though Cai suspected that he packed more into his hectic schedule than they did.
Trumpets blew a fanfare.
Beside him, Ember winced at the noise, and Cai felt her unease more through their bond than merely her flinch against his side. He covered one of her ears with his hand and pressed the other side of her head against his chest to protect her because Cai needed to protect her from everything, whether it was danger or mere noise.
> She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed.
The Dragon King and Dragon Queen ascended the dais and sat in the thrones. They were in the late-middle-age of the primes of the lives, white-haired but still strong and vibrant. The king rose and began speaking about the history and grandeur of the New Wales Dragon Clan while two pages carried the Dragon Scepter out between them like a heavy barbell.
Cai whispered to Ember, “If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”
“It’s just really sudden,” she said, “but if you want to be the Dragon King, I understand it.”
“It would be a lot of sitting around at events and coordinating committees.”
“I get it. I assume there’ll be some on-the-job training.”
“Bronwyn and Llywelyn are great. They helped me a lot when my dad died. I was technically underage and shouldn’t have been able to inherit the dukedom. I’m sure they’ll help whomever the scepter chooses.”
She smiled up at him. “Then, do it.”
He rubbed her shoulder, “At your command, my queen.”
In his strong, deep voice, the king announced, “The nobility will approach the scepter first, and then anyone may try their hand. My lords?”
Cai took Ember’s hand and walked toward the steps.
She asked, her voice a little frantic, “Shouldn’t you do this alone?”
He glanced over the throng of dragons and other carnivorous beasts packed into the ballroom. “Come on up on the dais with me.”
Ember held her skirt up and climbed the stairs to the platform as Cai approached the magical scepter.
With Ember’s witchcraft magic augmenting his dragon senses, the Dragon Scepter was already emitting sparks as Cai approached. He didn’t want to let go of Ember’s hand, so he didn’t. He just reached out with his other hand, grasped the glowing scepter in the center of the staff, and lifted it out of the pages’ hands.
Magical fire fountained out of both ends.
The crowd gasped and pulled back.
Power flowed through Cai and the mating bond with Ember, and her hand tightened on his.
The magic swirled, imploring.
He felt Ember’s reluctance through the bond and her fear.
His life was wonderful. Running the Wyvern ducal estate and his promotions business was rewarding as hell, and what does a dragon who sheds diamonds need of a royal treasury?
Cai pushed back on the magic. No. I don’t want it.
The magic twisted in on itself and returned to the Dragon Scepter, which extinguished the flames.
The crowd gasped.
King Llywelyn pronounced, “The Dragon Scepter has not selected a new monarch. Next nobledragon, please!”
Arawn, the Duke of Tiamat
ARAWN, the Duke of Tiamat, held his dragonmate Willow Tiamat’s hand as he ascended the steps to the dais and walked toward the Dragon Scepter.
Willow was nervous as she trailed him, and Arawn didn’t like being the center of attention, either. His job was the security of the dragon clan, in all the shades of gray that entailed. The crowd’s eyes felt like spies.
Over on the thrones, Queen Bronwyn and King Llywelyn smiled at him. Llywelyn had counseled Arawn many times during his life, but Bronwyn was the heart of the clan. Her leadership as the dragon in the mated pair of monarchs and the Dragon Queen had inspired him.
Willow was following Arawn, holding his hand. Her slow steps felt like she was supporting him, but that she was going somewhere she would rather not. He inched along their mating bond, feeling that hard-won, deep connection between them and the love that flowed through, until he found Willow.
She wasn’t frightened of the possibility of becoming the Dragon Queen, but she had steeled herself to accept it. The potions witch had the soul of a scholar, not a politician or a celebrity.
And Arawn, really, as he understood himself, was more similar to his dragonmate than he was different.
Yes, he would perform well as the Dragon King, if the scepter chose him, but Arawn was a general and not a politician. He could lead an army or plan the strategy for a war, but he would be wasted and unfulfilled with the extensive ceremonial duties of a king.
Arawn’s hand hesitated in the air above the Dragon Scepter.
Behind him, Willow whispered, “Go ahead. It is your duty, like you said.”
He could feel the scepter’s magic trickling up through the air to his hand, drawing him down, enticing him to take it. Magical sparks already flowed from the scepter’s ends in response to his presence.
But this was not his path.
Arawn lifted his hand away from the scepter and stepped back.
Willow asked, “Arawn?”
He announced, “The Dukedom of Tiamat will not stand for the monarchy at this time.”
When he glanced over at Bronwyn and Llywelyn, they were smiling at him. Llywelyn glanced at his mate, who lifted her silver eyebrows at him like she had been right about something.
Ah, so it was the right thing for him to do.
Well played, Bronwyn. Well played.
He shook hands with the monarchs and led Willow down the other side of the dais.
She hugged him, and he hugged her back, whispering, “If the scepter selects no one else, I need to fulfill my duty at the next selection event, in three months’ time.”
“I know,” she whispered, her sweet breath brushing his neck. “But maybe it will.”
Mathonwy, the Duke of Draco
MATHONWY, the Duke of Draco, strode up the dais steps with his sweet, little dragonmate, Bethany Aura Draco hopping along behind him. The Dragon Scepter awaited him.
Excitement bubbled through his mating bond with Bethany, as usual. His dragonmate’s effervescent personality bubbled all the time, and he loved every minute with her. Life with Bethany was constant laughter and adventure, and Math rocketed home every day from his business with the realm, his many committees and boards and planning, to find her organizing their wedding, or handfasting as the witches call it, in Desert Stars that would finally take place tomorrow. Her attention to detail for the wedding was as meticulous as it had been for the Dragon Den casino’s preparation, and he couldn’t wait to see what she came up with every day.
They’d jokingly discussed the possibility of a dragonling sooner rather than later, both of them reaching through their mating bond with excitement and happiness while they joked that they might have a “whoopsie” in the bedroom.
He had even considered that, after their handfasting and the party the next evening, he might hold out his heart as magic flowed their bond and offer her the possibility of a child together.
But for now, he had to pick up a stick and see if their lives would be changed forever.
As he approached the Dragon Scepter, magic from the object flowed around him, warping the space of the ballroom. Both witches and fae had been involved in its making, and their combined eldritch powers were more than reality could withstand.
He reached toward the scepter with Bethany’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist, holding her close to him with his other arm. Her purse got in the way of his hand for a minute, and he navigated the straps to tuck her close to his side. The sharp beads on her gown scraped his palm.
The mating bond between them seemed to thicken in the presence of such powerful magic, and he could feel her excitement and pride in him as his hand neared the scepter.
Tendrils of the scepter’s magic reached for his hand, and a magnetic pull dragged his hand to the object.
When he clasped his fist around the rod, magic poured through him like a waterfall.
Bethany gasped as the power flowed through their bond and into her, too.
Mathonwy knew they had been chosen even before he lifted the Dragon Scepter to eye-level and then higher. As he did, magical fire fountained over both of them and flowed over the stage.
When he looked over at the queen and king, Bronwyn and Llywelyn were grinning and holding hands, and then they stood and c
lapped with the rest of the New Wales Dragon Clan.
Mathonwy felt the scepter crack in his fist.
He looked up.
The Dragon Scepter gave one last blast of magic and crumbled to dust in his hand, falling into ash on the dais.
He turned and looked at the king and queen, who also had wide, startled eyes and open mouths.
Queen Bronwyn said, “Well, it was looking a little shabby after the last ceremony. I think the selection was just too much for the poor thing.”
Bethany gasped and sprang from Math’s side, whipping a dustpan and whisk broom from her purse and kneeling to sweep the ash off the floor. “There, there. I’ve got it.”
The king and queen watched, bemused.
Math held out a hand to help her up from her knees, considering that she was wearing a slim, beaded ball gown. “You don’t have to—”
She grabbed a wet wipe out of a pack from her purse and wiped the ash off his hand. “It’s okay. A home and hearth witch is always prepared for any problems.”
“Bethany,” he said, laughing. “You don’t need to do this.”
“It’s fine. It’s fine. I’ve got it.” She pulled a lipstick-sized tube from her purse and twisted it. A tiny whoosh emerged, and she vacuumed the little bit of remaining dust out of the carpeting.
Math laughed more loudly. “Queen Bethany Aura, quit worrying about the bit of dust so you can be crowned!”
“I—what?” Bethany looked up.
Math grinned down at her. “Come, my love. The thrones await us. The ceremony includes our coronation. Bronwyn and Llywelyn want to get started on their retirement.”
He heard them laugh, and the whole hall joined in joyous laughter.
Bronwyn trotted over to where Bethany was still trying to fluff the carpet. “Come on, dear. There are pictures to be taken, the first of many.”
Bethany took Math’s and Bronwyn’s hands and was helped up from the floor. “Okay, so what do we do?”
Dragons and Fire Page 18
