Page 48 of The Dragon Warlord

“This is nice,” he says. “It’s mine?”

“All yours, Warlord. You can hold meetings here and make plans…” I babble on for a good long while about all the things he can do in his war room. He stares. His blue eyes sparkle.

“Well then, my first act seems appropriate.” Opening the desk drawer, he finds the paper and writing tools that he originally requested.

“What are you going to do, Warlord?”

“You’ll see.” Tristan’s expression holds their glimmer while he writes. His dragon heart beats so loudly I can hear it without the help of our bond. “Here.”

When he’s done, he hands me the paper. At the top, it says: Warlord’s Rules. There are ten so far.

“Keep your cards close. Wait to play your hand as long as you can,” I read aloud.

“Things my father taught me, mostly, but a few others I’ve learned along the way. I’m going to go over this list, daily, until I’m a living and breathing embodiment of it.”

“Me too, Warlord. If you’ll allow it that is.”

“Of course. I should think it would be expected of the Warlord’s omega, hmmm?” He raises an imperious brow.

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Read number seven,” he says.

“A Warlord should be capable of danger, but only use it when absolutely necessary.That’s what I said!”

“Yes. You said that and I never intend to forget it.”

* * *

After another week, Tristan decides that we can practice together in the garden of his war room. There are few rules, and we race all over the war room slamming our swords into every surface. Unfortunately, there are many plant and furniture deaths, but they’re some of my favorite times with the Warlord. I get to show him that I am a skilled swordsman, and he gets to do the same.

He won’t get to compare his new strength until he’s home, sparing with an Elf, but when he does, he’ll see how much stronger he is.

Tristan makes an effort to chat with as many dragons as he can in a day. One of the ten Warlord’s rules focuses on community. “My parents used to book events just for socializing. I used to hate them because Father would make me wear fancy prince clothing and I was forced to greet them at the door. Father wanted to get to know the people he was protecting. He wanted them to see their Warlord for themselves so they could feel safe,” he explained.

He lets Ikara tag along with us, which is how we end up with our own secret fight club.

“Mother would have a fit if she knew where I was and what I was doing,” she admits after weeks and weeks of sparing with us in Tristan’s gardens.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says. The lesson in the jade room has stuck with him. Amira was involved and so Tristan has steered clear of her.

“Afraid not, but don’t worry, she’s only going through a phase. I’ve been fighting since I could walk, and she’s never had a problem with it before. I’ve always known she wants me to join the Council, but why can’t I do that and fight? A Warlord does.”

Tristan will join the Council when Father thinks he’s ready.

The Warlord sighs because he has a soft spot for that kind of thing. He huffs. “Very well, I’ll put my arse on the line for you, but only because I think you’d be wasted if you were only on the Council. I want you with us and I can prove to the dragon lord why you need to be.”

He thinks in those terms now. How he can convince the dragon lord? What will be best for his future army? We’re reaching the end of his two-month sentence and providing everything goes well, he can finally travel to meet his army.

“Speaking of Mother, I should find her. She had something to discuss with me in her favorite gardens.”

The ones on the Eastern side of The Tower, where Lady Amira and Tristan met.

When she’s off, Tristan turns to me. “I’m in so much trouble, aren’t I?”

“It does seem to follow you.” I guess I should be worried, but I’m not. “It’s all about being able to handle the trouble you get into, Warlord.”

He sheathes his sword, sliding it into the baldric on his back. “Let’s hope I handle it better than the last time.”