Chapter 147: How Long Do You Expect Us To Wait, Draeven?
More buckets.
More people.
More urgency.
More chaos.
Morgana watched it all from her window in the royal wing, looking down at the palace grounds like a goddess observing the mortals below.
But she wasn’t a goddess.
She was simply a girl who understood something about this crisis that no one else in the palace seemed to understand.
The ancient dragons were in distress.
She didn’t know what kind of distress. She didn’t know why water and buckets and frantic servants were the solution. She didn’t understand the specifics of what was happening.
But she knew.
She knew with the kind of certainty that came from being connected to something ancient and magical and beyond normal human understanding.
The three dragons in the tower were in crisis.
And the entire palace was responding.
But why?
***
*THE KING’S CHAMBERS*
The private chambers of the First King were a study in controlled power.
The walls were stone, ancient and solid, painted deep gold and crimson. The furniture was sparse but exquisite, a heavy wooden desk, a leather chair, a fireplace with marble inlay. The room spoke of someone who had no need for excess because his presence alone filled any space he occupied.
But tonight, the room was thick with tension.
Kaelen was on his feet, his pale ice-blue eyes blazing with barely restrained fury.
His hands were clenched at his sides, and the pale scales that occasionally flickered across his knuckles suggested his dragon was very close to the surface.
"How long do you expect us to wait, Draeven?" His voice was sharp, dangerous and filled with the kind of frustration that comes from restraint pushed to its absolute limit.
"She’s our ward now."
He took a step closer to his oldest brother, his movements predatory.
"By law. By right. She belongs to us."
His pale eyes burned with something primal, something hungry, something that transcended simple desire.
"We have every legitimate reason to claim her, and you know it."
Draeven rose slowly from the chair where he had been sitting.
His movements were deliberate, controlled, containing barely restrained fury.
But where Kaelen’s fury was hot and obvious, Draeven’s was ice, the kind of cold that could freeze a man solid.
His dark hair caught the firelight, and his golden eyes seemed to shift and change like molten metal.
Which indicates that his dragon was close. Very close.
His voice, when he spoke, was soft but carried the weight of a command that could not be disobeyed.
"You need to calm down, brother."
He took a step toward Kaelen.
"Yes, she is under the protection of the crown."
He took another step.
"Yes, she is our ward."
His golden eyes began to shift, showing the true color beneath...the burning gold of his dragon, "INFERNUS," ancient and powerful and absolutely possessive.
"But that does not mean I’ll let you have your way with her."
He stopped a few feet from Kaelen, his gaze locking onto his youngest brother with absolute intensity.
The power radiating from him was almost physical, it filled the chamber, pressed against the walls, made the air itself seem heavier.
"Because I know exactly what you have planned for her, Kaelen."
The words were a warning and a threat in equal measure.
"And I will not allow you to move recklessly with someone whose nature we do not yet understand."
Kaelen’s expression shifted.
A smirk played at his lips....dangerous, confident and absolutely unrepentant.
His pale eyes gleamed with mischief and raw desire and something deeper and something prima.
He took a step toward Draeven.
The two kings faced each other like predators.
"I wouldn’t be so sure about that, brother."
Kaelen’s voice dropped to something dangerous, something intimate, something that made the very air around them seem to vibrate.
"Because trust me, you have absolutely no idea what I have planned for our little mate."
The word hung in the air.
"MATE."
Not servant. Not ward. Not acquisition.
Mate.
Draeven’s entire body went rigid.
He looked at Kaelen and said softly "We are not yet sure if she is our mate, brother."
The words were a statement, but also a warning.
A caution.
A desperate attempt to inject reason into a situation that was rapidly spiraling beyond control.
"We don’t know if she is the Mother of Dragons, So I suggest you control yourself until we do."
Draeven’s looked at him and then continued.
"Because if we bond with her and she is not the one, if the curse remains...."
He didn’t finish the sentence.
He didn’t need to.
The implication was clear: if they bonded with Morgana and she wasn’t their destined mate, they would be bound to her eternally while remaining cursed to never father heirs.
It was a risk that even Draeven’s control couldn’t easily accept.
Kaelen’s smile widened.
A smile that suggested he knew something Draeven didn’t want to admit.
His pale eyes burned brighter, and for a moment, the full weight of his dragon, seemed to shine through.
"Well, tell that to my dragon, brother."
His voice dropped lower.
"Because at least I know what Glacius tells me."
He took another step toward Draeven, closing the distance between them.
"Even if Glacius doesn’t officially recognize her yet..."
He paused, letting the implication hang in the air like a blade suspended above their heads.
"I’ll let my instincts make the decision for us."
His voice became almost a whisper, the kind of whisper that was more dangerous than any shout.
"And trust me, brother..... they have."
He stepped even closer, his pale eyes burning with absolute certainty.
With absolute hunger.
With the kind of primal need that transcended logic or law or propriety.
"She belongs to us."
His hand reached out and gripped Draeven’s shoulder, a gesture that was both intimate and threatening.
"You know it. I know it. Even if our dragons are being stubborn about officially claiming her."
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to barely a whisper.
"So why are you hesitating?"