“There won’t be lasting peace as long as she exists,” the eagle king interrupted. His jaw was tense as he fought her magic, still glaring at the platform.
As suddenly as the spell had hit him, it faded. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, staggering backward, reaching into his belt for more daggers even as he caught his breath. Killian turned fearfully toward the platform to find Zane and his father in a deep conversation, Zane urging Tina backward, stealing her attention from Killian as the king of the cat shifters slowly removed a knife hidden in the back of his belt.
Torn between keeping his father in check and helping, Killian ran to the platform to help Zane and Tina. He made it a few steps before his father grabbed his shoulder, wheeling him around.
“She can’t be trusted!” the eagle king shouted.
“Of course—”
“Snap out of it!” Killian’s father aimed another dagger at the woman he loved, and deep down, something finally snapped within Killian.
“Father, listen to me for once in your life!” Killian shoved his father in the chest, knocking the man backward and finally stemming the flow of daggers.
“Her outlandish choice broke the rules of the agreement, and that voids any obligations we ever had to her or the other kings.” Chest heaving, the king took a tentative step forward. “She had her choice, and now you have yours. It’s her or me, son.” He lowered his voice, his gaze locked on Killian. “This is your chance to make a lasting decision, and you need to choose now. What will it be?”
Killian bristled at the sheer gall of such an ultimatum. Deep within him, his eagle scratched to be let free, feathers ruffling with anger and resentment, eager to make his choice plainly known.
He had spent his life ignoring his own desires for the sake of his kingdom and what his father had told him was the greater good. Now that Tina had lit the fires of passion within him, Killian would never let the flame go out.
“I choose her,” he said. “I will always choose her.”
58
Draven
Draven had seconds before his father shifted, and he had to get the dragon king out of the temple before he sprouted horns and roasted everyone nearby.
With full confidence that Zane would protect Tina in his absence, Draven lunged toward his father and landed a solid kick against the man’s chest. The dragon king sailed backward, rolling over the stone. It wouldn’t hurt his father, of course, just annoy the ever-living crap out of him. Never one to be fazed, King Edward was up in seconds, eyes flashing red with warning.
Draven winked. “Why don’t we talk outside?”
He threw open the doors into the hallway with his father hot on his heels and jumped through one of the windows into the garden. He shifted in mid-leap, gritting his teeth through the pain, knowing full well he would have only seconds before his father’s claws dug into his back.
His dragon roared with the thrill of a fight as his body changed. The moment his wings sprouted, he soared into the air. The rough beat of leathery wings followed, and he tilted his head to find his father’s massive black dragon trailing him. Golden fire burned in the back of the immense dragon’s throat, majestic and powerful.
No one fought the king and lived. Draven’s father was one of the most ferocious and most feared dragons that had ever existed. Yet here Draven was, poking the beast, all for Tina.
Totally worth it.
Fire ripped from his father’s throat, aimed at him. Draven spun, tucking in his wings for better balance as he rolled out of the way. It sailed past, scorching the air, the heat like the blurred edges of a mirage. Any second now, other dragons would probably join the fight.
Draven didn’t have long. He had to pin his father on his back. This was the dragon code: pinning an opponent and exposing his weak underside would signal a clear victory for Draven. His father would have no choice but to concede. It was law, a code of ethics and honor that not even the king would break.
However, pinning a dragon on his back, especially one as large as the king, was far easier said than done.
Draven summoned the mystical fire from within. In his human form, manipulating his new fire was fun and all, but he had discovered something significantly more exciting once in his dragon form. His magical flames engulfed him painlessly, covering every scale until it seemed as if he was in the center of a blazing bonfire. He roared, cutting through the air like thunder, and even his mighty father hesitated.
Draven hated to fight his family, but the old man was flat-out wrong. None of them would attack Tina so long as Draven was alive to protect her. She gave him joy. Happiness. Peace.
Not even Draven’s father would take it from him.
59
Anthony
Anthony circled his father, eyes on the man’s shoulder as he waited for any indication of an attack or shift. Whenever his father moved, his shoulder always gave away whatever attack would follow. It was a weakness he had never been allowed to critique, and now he was glad his father hadn’t listened.
“You killed your own,” King William said, nose wrinkling with disdain.
“And you’re the coward who sent them to their deaths,” Anthony countered.
The king clicked his tongue with disappointment. “It was a message, Anthony, a reminder of where your loyalty should lie.”
“With my kingdom, as it always has. Not with you.”
The king scowled, the lines deepening in his brow and around his mouth. “Don’t you see, Anthony? Don’t you see what’s at stake here?”
“Of course—”
“No, you don’t. You never see the big picture. You never see what’s possible, only what is. Look at the abilities you and the other princes have! All this power, all this magic, just from sleeping with a woman. The wolves could have an army of incredibly enhanced soldiers, Anthony. We could rule every kingdom, put the others in their place. I brought Damara here for you, Anthony. I brought her here so that when you take my place, you’ll have more than one measly kingdom. You’ll have an empire!”
“She’s not a broodmare!”
Disgusted, Anthony could barely restrain his hatred. Over the years, Anthony had discovered some of the skeletons in his father’s closet, and he had always excused them as the acts of a king doing what had to be done. His father had accidentally killed the wrong people, sentenced innocent men to death, and buried secrets so deep not even Anthony could unearth them.
This was the last shred of indignity Anthony could take from the man he had once respected.
Something shifted in his father’s face, and Anthony recognized a flicker of understanding. The king sneered. “She may not be a broodmare now, but she will be when I’m done with her.”
Unable to rein in his hatred any longer, Anthony let his wolf free. Pain ripped through his body as his bones changed to accommodate his animal’s form, but he didn’t care. He dove for his father, his incredible new speed closing the gap between them before the king of the wolves could even shift.
Anthony dug his teeth into his father’s shoulder, breaking bones. Blood gushed into Anthony’s mouth. The king screamed in pain, and it became a howl as he shifted into his gray wolf.
In their wolf forms, Anthony and his father were an even match in size. They snarled at each other, each circling as they searched for an opening to attack. Anthony growled, haunches raised as he lunged, ripping open his father’s other shoulder.
Even with Anthony’s speed, his father’s experience in battle helped him land a few painful gouges across Anthony’s back and face. Despite the blood, despite the sting of a gaping wound, Anthony pressed on. Each blood-drenched bite slowed them both down, but Anthony’s speed would make him the clear winner.
It wouldn’t be long, now, until the final blow landed.