Page 7

Chapter

Six

CHAPTER 6

D aghel

The halls of the palace lack the usual seasonal cheer that has adorned them every year of the queen’s rule. A dark silence clings to them as I walk at Ajek’s side, the sound of our boots echoing around us. As the palace is built directly into the cliff face with its own rookeries, there is a special kind of resonance similar to the common rookeries but amplified by its vastness.

“This is not meant as an insult to you, Daghel,” the male growls. “But our laws and traditions exist for a reason and are not so easily ignored—least of all by you. The prince is concerned.”

I show no reaction to his words other than briefly meeting his eyes with a hard stare so that he knows that I have heard him. Ajek is a prick, but he is a prick with limited power. The prince is another matter. My jaw tightens, but I assume a neutral, if grim, expression as I follow Ajek into the throne room.

Fawning females, orc and human alike, surround the throne, hands caressing Prince Vorn and raising slivers of meat and fruit to his lips. His wives. He grunts deeply as the female kneeling between his thighs works his hard prick with her mouth. My lips twist faintly with disgust, but the expression is minute and fleeting so that neither male catches it. The prince dares far too much. According to our laws, no male or even a bond pair are allowed to have more than one mate, but he has been busy without his mother’s strict oversight and now is going as far as to allow his mates to service him on the throne that rightly belongs to his younger sister.

A throne she shall not inherit and rightly ascend to until the present queen dies. Until that time, the prince plays his games with his supporters under the illusion of a dutiful son—and he plays them well—while his mother has lain ill these past few winters with none but the healer and spirit speaker attending to her. Neither female has been seen since the day they were brought into the palace, leaving only apprentices to care for the clan, and no others have been admitted. And yet despite her grave illness, she continues to live… exactly as the prince intends.

He will not allow her to die. I know without a doubt that he forces every breath of life through her and traps the spark of her soul within her withering flesh. It is to this purpose that he has kept our healer and spirit speaker imprisoned with her. That knowledge crawls over my skin, and late at night I catch myself staring up at the queen’s quarters, feeling as if a struggling breath rakes across my skin, whispering a silent plea. It is maddening, and it carves like a black blade through my being as the prince luxuriates in his ill-gained power that is not his to have.

I do not share my thoughts freely with the clan, but I have heard hushed grievances among others within the Cold Fang Clan. They speak of sinister dealings within the palace when they think no one is nearby to hear them. Little do they know that a drehl male slips too quietly and too easily among them—and hears everything.

I am a wraith within the clan, and even now, standing before the prince, I feel even more so like one with a dark purpose boiling within me, one that I struggle to contain.

The male’s red eyes finally shift to me, and he acknowledges my presence with a deep grunt even as he pumps his hips into his mate’s mouth. His thighs tremble and he growls deep in his throat, his hand clenching the female’s head tightly, holding her in place as he deposits his thick load down her throat. It spills from the corners of her small mouth stretched around his length, and she visibly chokes as she attempts to swallow all of it. An obscene sight, and I pity the small human.

It is no wonder our clan is falling, increasingly scorned by our gods and ancestors as so many of the males begin to follow Vorn’s lead.

The prince settles back into his throne with a satisfied groan as two more of his mates drop to clean his softening cock with their tongues. He smirks at me as he caresses one dark head and plays with her long braid.

“Exquisite, aren’t they?” he rumbles.

My gaze drops dismissively to the females for only a moment before returning to him. Not one compares to my female, but I dare not utter such words while I am at a clear disadvantage within the clan. His eyes narrow on me, but he barks a loud laugh and pushes the females away roughly as he stands, drawing up the ends of his surc and fastening them once more at his waist as he does so.

“But I have heard that you have your own little delicious female. One that you abandoned your mission entirely to seize.”

He waits expectantly, and I realize that he wishes me to answer. Surprising. Vorn usually prefers to hear himself talk. He is in a rare mood and that makes me suspicious.

“It was instinct,” I reply flatly. “Drisk caught her scent and it could not be denied.”

His dark brow rises in response to my words, speculation clear on his face. “A wyvern’s choosing, eh?” He hums deeply to himself and exchanges a long look with Ajek that I pretend to not see. “That does change the complexion of things just a little.”

Suspicion curls deeper within me.

“Perhaps you should just tell him, rather than keep him in suspense, my lord,” Ajek offers with a deep chuckle. “The drehl does not know what to make of such things. It is clear that, if not for Drisk leading the way, the male would not even know what to do with a female, much less go about acquiring one. Who allows a wyvern to choose in this age rather than seize the initiative for himself? I am certain that the wyvern will have to demonstrate how to mount her as well.”

“Clearly,” Vorn rumbles, his gaze focusing on me with open amusement.

I stare straight ahead as I wait for him to get to the point. Beneath the ice around my heart, anger boils and seethes, the darkness stretching forth with skeletal fingers but restrained… for now.

Vorn lets out another bark of deep laughter and turns away from me, his long cloak sweeping in a wide arc around him. “Very well. As things stand, I shall allow you to keep your mate, but on one condition.”

I cock my head, betraying my curiosity despite myself. “What condition?”

Vorn whirls around, a broad grin stretching obscenely across his face. “He speaks!” Chuckling, he stalks back across the room toward me. “The condition is a simple one, drehl. As I require Ajek’s attentions elsewhere, you will swear fealty to me and personally act as my hand.” He stops in front of me, his gaze sweeping thoughtfully over me. “You will be my show of might among the Cold Mountains. You have long been content to live on the fringe of the clan, doing only as much as what is absolutely required of you as a gathol while the entire clan fearfully defers to you.”

I slowly blink at him. Defers? “They are terrified of me. I am a curse upon the clan.”

“Yes!” Vorn agrees, as he lifts his hand to grasp my shoulder. “Exactly. You are a drehl, but more than that, despite your ill repute, the clan respects your power and looks to it with a certain amount of awe and reverence as if you are Durethikal himself. I want that in my corner.”

A heavy, dark weight gathers at my core at the invocation of the name that few dare to even whisper. Vorn is far too bold.

“You would do well to hope that I am not the son of Vepra,” I growl.

Vorn pauses, his expression darkening slightly as he regards me, but he brushes away my response with a wave of his hand. “Of course not. But you will be a very useful… symbol. And in exchange, I will allow you to keep your mate. Breed more drehl if you like. An army of them. And in turn, I will elevate what it means to be drehl for the future generations to come.”

My eyebrows rise. What he offers is no small thing. I do not trust it, especially not an offhanded comment about breeding an army of drehl. He is making his intentions far too clear, but Drisk and I can play along if it means that our mate will be safe.

“Very well,” I growl, and the darkness roils and grows within as a pleased smile stretches once more across his face.