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His eyes narrowed slightly, his hands lowering to the table and exposing his hard chest once again. The strongest man I’d ever seen, nothing but tight skin over muscle, not a hint of anything else anywhere.

“The Southern Isles was taken by a maniacal tyrant. He imprisoned its people, the dragons, and poisoned the lush earth. Against all odds, my father slayed the evil king and took back the lands that belonged to him. He freed the dragons and rehabilitated our people and these lands back to their pristine perfection.” My mother had shared the story with me when I was young, and it hit me so deeply. I realized my father wasmore than the man who raised me, but the greatest king this world had ever known. At every age, I noticed the way people respected him, not because they had to, but because they truly revered him. He was a man of integrity, faithful to my mother when other kings would have strayed. He put his people before himself, protected the dragons as his own kin. “My father is a great man, greater than I’ll ever be. I’ll only live in his shadow, and if evil ever marched on these shores, I’m not sure if I have the strength or the resilience to protect it or avenge it the way he has.”

Wrath wore no expression as he listened, eyes hard as he absorbed what I’d been too ashamed to share with Zehemoth. My best friend would never think less of me, would tell me how great I was and make me feel special, but I didn’t deserve his praise. He loved me for me, whether I was the victor or the vanquished. But I decided to share with Wrath instead, and I wasn’t sure why. “I’ve witnessed your valor and bravery firsthand. If there had been a way to save your crew, you would have done so, even to your own detriment. If someone challenged your kingdom and your people, I have no doubt that you would fight them until the bloody end. Mortals don’t share the valor and bravery you wore like a flag. They’re selfish and cowardly. When I laid eyes upon you, I knew you were a woman who would be remembered for centuries—and that was why I saved you. You are not your father.” He stared, eyes flicking back and forth between mine. “You’re more.”

My eyes immediately darted away at his words, words that were too hefty for me to accept.

“And it’s the reason I want you so deeply.”

6

LILY

I sat across from Jean in The Fiery Dragon, a pub in the center of the kingdom. I watched him with shrewd eyes and waited for him to take his turn.

Decades older than me, he stared down at his hand and tried to figure out his next move.

“The sun is going to rise by the time you make a decision.”

His irritated eyes flicked up to mine. “You can’t intimidate me, Lily.”

“Not trying to intimidate you. Trying to rush you.” My hand kept my cards flat on the surface, so there was no chance he or anyone behind me could read my hand.

He stared at me a moment longer before he grabbed his coins and tossed them into the center of the table.

“Ooh, tough guy.” I grabbed my coins and pushed them into the center as well.

Across the bar, I noticed a quick commotion, everyone moving away from the door. Two groups of men at nearby tablesgrabbed their tankards and quickly vacated their seats. My eyes narrowed then spotted the man who emerged through the parting of the crowd.

My father.

He was dressed in his normal clothes, a long-sleeved black shirt that was tight on his arms and black trousers. Even when he didn’t wear the uniform with the family crest in the center, everyone knew exactly who he was. Statues were erected in the town square in his honor. Artists painted his picture and hung them in their restaurants and establishments. Revered and adored by all.

His eyes found mine, and he gave a slight smirk.

“We ain’t got all day, kid,” Jean rapped his knuckles on the surface of the table.

There were several open seats at the bar because at least a dozen men moved out of my father’s way. He took a seat and was immediately given service. A tankard of beer was presented to him like they’d already had it ready when he walked inside. He took a drink then turned to me, leaning against the corner and watching the game as a spectator.

I realized that Jean had put more money into the pot, like he had a good hand or wanted me to believe such. I met his bet but didn’t exceed it, making him believe that I was only trying to keep his pace. “Moment of truth.”

He tossed his cards on the table, having a full suit. That meant he had one of each card, the dragon, the king, the bear, and the elf. He smirked like there was no way I could possibly beat that.

I tossed my cards onto the table. I had four dragons—the highest hand.

His face immediately became crestfallen.

“I’m in a charitable mood, so I’ll split the pot with you.”

“I don’t need your charity.” He swiped his hand across the surface of the table and sent the coins across the floor. He knocked over his beer too, then walked off.

“Sore loser.”

My father left his seat then kneeled on the floor to pick up all the coins my opponent had tossed aside. I helped him, and others immediately joined in because my father was the last person who should pick up anything.

We made a stack on the table, and my father grabbed his beer before he took the vacated seat. “That’s a lot of coin. What are you going to do with it?”

“Buy more beer.”