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Prince Yoren nodded and took a glass of wine off the tray of a servant and handed it to Layala. Thane clenched his hands at his sides, tempted to snatch it away.

“It’s my father’s music, composed for my mother as a wedding gift.” His eyes flicked to the queen still sitting stiffly on her throne, holding the hand of the king, but she smiled for the first time. “They only play it on her birthday now.”

“It’s nice. Will we get an audience with them?” Thane hardly noticed how much time had passed but the sun traded places with the moon. Massive torches on the walls lit up, candles bobbed above their heads, suspended in mid-air, bringing a hint of smoke and warm light. It was a wonder no wax dripped. The golden fountains of wine had thinned significantly, and the food tables dwindled to scraps.

“Appears that way,” Prince Yoren answered.

Thane turned to the queen, curling her fingers in a “come here” motion.

“Don’t fret. I’ll keep an eye on your fiancée,” Prince Yoren said, and turned to Layala. “How do you like the wine?”

Layala smiled. “It’s the best.”

With a deep breath, Thane ground his teeth again. They were trying to get her intoxicated. Wine tended to loosen the lips, but he couldn’t ignore the queen’s beckon, and against the tug in his gut, he left her. With a few long strides, he stood at the base of the queen’s dais waiting to be addressed.

King Drake dipped his head. “Welcome to the court of dragons.”

“Greetings, Princeling.” The queen’s pale-blue eyes slid over him. She stood and glided down the steps. “I am Queen Nyrovia.”

Thane bristled at the term “princeling” as if he was but a child. “Queen,” Thane dipped his chin slightly.

She arched a sleek brow. “You do not bow?”

“No impudence but a HighKingof the Elves does not bow.”

The cock of her brow and the downturn of her lips said she wasn’t impressed. “King? I wasn’t aware your father was dead.”

“He’s not.”

She looked over her shoulder at King Drake. The corner of his mouth curled up and he said, “So the rumors are true. There is a discrepancy in leadership. Interesting.”

“I’d like to introduce you to my betrothed, Layala Lightbringer.” He glanced toward her, still beside Prince Yoren. She was laughing about something, though over the music and the chatter, he couldn’t hear.

A smile spread across the queen’s face. “Ah, yes. The stolen bride.”

Stolen bride? How did the dragons know so much about them? Did Varlett have Queen Nyrovia’s ear? He did a quick scan of the room to make sure she didn’t hide in a corner somewhere, waiting for her moment to strike. If she was here, she wasn’t in the open. Although, he didn’t think it was possible for her to fly here so quickly.

The music changed to a wistful melody of flutes and strings that brought people to the center for a dance.

Queen Nyrovia held out her hand to Thane. “Ask me to dance, Thane.”

“It’s King Thane,” he corrected with a smile that had charmed many. “And would you like to dance, Queen Nyrovia?”

“How kind of you to ask.”

Many watched and the dancing group cleared a circle as they stepped out onto the floor. Thane placed one hand on her hip and took the other in his grip. “What brings you to my court, King Thane?”

“I thought it was high time we rekindled the old friendship between dragons and elves. From the old stories, we were friendly once.” He didn’t know if that was true or not, everything he’d heard of dragons was they were ruthless and deadly, but it was worth a shot.

She smiled a saccharine smile. “Ah, and what do you have to offer in this new possible friendship?”

“Open communication with the elves, trade.” He needed something to sweeten the deal, some reason that things would have changed over the last thousand years. Something that might tug at her heartstrings, make it more personal. “My betrothed is a mage, one of the last of her kind.”

“And you’re the descendent of a god. So?”

“We might help each other. You don’t need to stay in the mountains forever.”

“We like our mountains.”