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“Pale ones.”

The cat growled and swiped at his foot. “Be nice, Lyndora,” he chided and tossed her more.

The attendant in front of Thane grinned. The smoky black cloth in his hand paired with an emerald green appeared to be a match. Although the colors looked like a dozen others he’d tossed aside.

Thane lifted a shoulder. “Is that something you’d consider?” It wasn’t why he came but even if a handful of the dragons joined their cause, they’d have a better chance of defeating Tenebris and getting his throne back. His five hundred Ravens alone couldn’t do it. Not even with Thane and Layala’s magical power.

“My father? Never.” He popped a piece of the raw meat into his own mouth. Thane wouldn’t normally stare but then Ronan licked the blood running down his wrist. This certainly wasn’t Palenor. “King Drake is in constant skirmishes with the other dragon tribes.”

“Other tribes?” Thane was embarrassed to admit he knew almost nothing about the Dragon Kingdom. If he’d had more time, he would have gone to the mage’s tower and studied the dragons.

Ronan practically purred; delight filled his features. “Well, this is a surprise. It’s not often I get to teach someone about dragon courts. My father may call himself King of the Dragons but there are four major tribes. Ours is the largest. The other three can’t agree on anything, so they don’t band together, thankfully or they’d overthrow us.” He paused and stared out the window thoughtfully. “However.” He hopped to his feet and set his meat on a small round corner table. The panther stood on her hind legs, took the leftovers into her mouth, and sauntered off. Ronan tucked his arms behind his back and squared his shoulders. “I might consider joining your cause.”

As much as Thane wanted to believe this good news, there must be a catch. He’d barely met Ronan and he’d consider going to war? A war they’d always stayed out of. No one did anything for free, especially royals. So, what would he want in return? But there was a small chance, perhaps a small mercy of the Maker; Ronan wanted to make a name for himself, and fight for the elves. Or maybe he wanted to upset his parents. He was difficult to read.

It felt like everything was against him and Layala, even fate at this point.

The attendants stepped away with shallow bows to him and Ronan and disappeared into another room. Thane let his arms rest at his sides and stepped down from the dais. “As you know, my father and I are not on good terms. In fact, you could say we have become enemies. He has an agreement of sorts with Mathekis, the pale one general.”

Ronan’s light eyebrows shot up, wrinkling his otherwise smooth forehead. “Now that must be a fascinating tale. I wondered what happened between you two. We only heard you became king when your father died in battle and then miraculously Tenebris returned. Though we haven’t heard much after.”

“It’s fairly simple,” Thane said, trying to keep his bitter feelings from showing in his tone. He looked out the window at the late afternoon sunlight streaming in on the miniature potted bonsai tree, picturing his father standing at the top of the hill with his army. A part of Thane was still angry he ran. “I tried to kill him so now I’m seen as the usurper king. It all comes down to him wanting more power. He wishes to be a mage and he’ll bring back our enemy to do it. No one knows or believes that’s what he wants. For most it’s unfathomable that he’d want to bring back the Black Mage when he’s spent his whole life in war against the pale ones.”

“And he needs your girl to accomplish that,” Ronan stated. He grew a slow smile, very pleased with himself. “I know who she is.”

How could Ronan possibly know that Mathekis could use Layala to bring back the Black Mage? Thane only knew that because he’d spied on his father. It wasn’t common knowledge. To everyone else she was the savior of Palenor, destroyer of the Void. Other than the fanatics who believed she was evil due to the sign at her birth. “What makes you think that?”

“General deductions. Your father has an obsession with this girl, enough to magically bind you to her as a child, and tear apart his kingdom to find her, and now he’s formed an alliance with Mathekis. Obviously, she has some part to play.” Ronan’s boots tapped heavily on the stone floor as he walked toward a sandstone shelf filled with books. “But you love her. She’s not just your betrothed. You will protect her even against your own father. You have your Ravens, an elite force of elven warriors, but that’s not enough to fight Tenebris and the pale ones. And you came to ask for our aide. Am I right so far?”

Ronan was smart and cunning, and seemingly had others fooled into thinking he was the fool. “In part,” Thane lied. It never occurred to him to ask for their aid, simply because he worried they were another enemy, not a potential ally. Ronan, and the dragon court in general, was much different than he’d anticipated.

“If your father wanted magic, he could have come to us. We could have taught him nature’s magic.” He paused for a moment. “I understand what you do is an innate power within you, the same as my gift to shift into a dragon. But we learn simple enchantments and spells. Without it we’d all be walking about naked after shifting.”

Thane chuckled. “I’ve seen little bits of the magic. How?”

“By using the energy of nature around us. It takes many years of practice but what is time to an elf?”

That might have been true in the past but not in Thane’s life. “In Palenor, any moment could be your last. The once peaceful nature of elves is sullied by the horrors of war.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not too peaceful or you’d be eaten alive here in dragon territory. You don’t want to look like prey to the predator.”

Thane licked his dry lips and rubbed his arm absently. “I wasn’t alive at the time, but many said you abandoned the elves when the pale ones arose. You’ve refused contact with us.”

“I was young then, but we’ve always remained neutral. We didn’t want to involve ourselves in the curse you brought upon Palenor. We feared losing ourselves to our beast forms as punishment.” He tugged a blue, leatherbound book from the shelf. The gold lettering was in a language Thane didn’t recognize. “Make no mistake, that’s what it is. A punishment for upsetting the symmetry of nature. The high elves took and took, seeking to grow more powerful, the same as your father is now. Those who weren’t mages sought to become mages. They asked for things not given to them. The Maker decides who is a magic bearer and who is not. It wasn’t just the Black Mage’s fault the curse came. He was but the conduit for your greed. The All Mother, the overseer of balance in all things, is not pleased with the elves.”

Another chill ran down Thane’s back. He’d never heard it described quite like that. He knew that the Maker took the elves’ magic, but he always thought it was because of the Black Mage and the pale ones. He didn’t like to think that the true villain of the elves might be themselves.

He’d never heard the term All Mother. Thane only dabbled in religious beliefs. He believed in a creator, the Maker most referred to, but that was the extent of his thoughts on the matter. He supposed the zealots who built shrines in the name of his mate turned him away from it all. They praised her like a divine being, as they would him if they knew what he was capable of.

Ronan held out the book to Thane. “You might find this interesting.”

The heaviness of it settled into his palm. It was at least a thousand pages and must weigh ten pounds. Thane flipped open the heavy cover. The title was unreadable to him. He flipped through the pages stopping at a drawing. Nowthathe could understand. Riders rode on the backs of dragons, clashing with one another among the clouds. Wings tore, wicked teeth sunk into dragon scales. The warriors on the backs of the dragons wore winged helmets much like his Ravens. He flipped through more pages, more drawings. Was this the history of Adalon? The sketches beheld great battles, kings’ and queens’ portraits, one name and face he recognized: his great-grandfather, High King Dramus. The crown on his head was the very same his father wore, gold and rubies and with etches of ivy. He ruled for a thousand years before stepping down to allow his son High King Scarvan to rule. Both ended up dying in battle against the Black Mage before Tenebris took the throne.

“Did dragons fight in the last war? I thought…”

“No,” Ronan said. He walked over to the open window, leaned down to a silver-petaled rose, and inhaled. “Those depictions are of the battles between the gods, long before the Black Mage. They were gods and goddesses from the Runevale realm. That war spilled over into this realm, Adalon.” He paused, giving Thane a thoughtful look. “You’re a descendant of one of the gods from Runevale. I can smell it in your magic, in your very blood.”

Thane nodded, but it bothered him that he couldsmellit, and why was he so interested in his lineage? And the way he treated Layala, telling the others to smell her… he thought it might be because of her magic but what if there was more. “So I’ve been told. But if you can smell it, that would mean you’ve met one of these gods before.” And if they no longer walked this realm, how was that possible?