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Some echo the call, while others whisper amongst themselves.
“Silence!” Midas blows fire over them in a sweeping circle that would singe the hair off the top of their heads if they were human.
“I am still your King.” He looks each person in the eye. “Until the week passes, or she makes her decision, I still hold this throne. And I will not celebrate the first night of Goddess Week without my mate. She should see what this new world is like before she decides anything.”
“Are you trying to scare her away?” Jethro says with a laugh. A few others snicker.
The woman who spoke before tilts her head, studying Midas.
“Do you want to lose your crown?” The question is soft and curious, but there’s fury in her burning eyes. “You know what will happen if she doesn’t choose to transform.”
Midas walks forward, meeting her intensity with his own, moving until he’s directly in front of her. A hint of insecurity stirs my gut, looking at the two beautiful dragons having a standoff with one another.
“Do you wish to make a challenge, grandmother?” Midas says.
I gasp softly at the realization that she’s Midas’s grandmother. She doesn’t look any older than him. Her gaze drops first, and she folds her hands neatly in front of her, dipping her chin.
“I will not force my mate into anything, especially when she doesn’t have all the facts,” Midas says, loud enough for the group to hear. “Just as I have not forced or manipulated my people. That is not how I rule you, and that is not how I will rule my household.”
The woman’s smile softens for just a moment, and I see pride in her eyes. But then her gaze flicks to me and narrows, lips pinching tight. Yikes.
Midas turns his back to her. Taking my hand, he leads me up the steps to the dais. There are two thrones there, but thankfully, he stops at the top of the stairs. If just my presence upsets this group, how would they respond to me sitting in one of their thrones? I don’t want to find out.
“What did you mean by asking her if she wanted to make a challenge?” I whisper.
Before turning around to face his people, he bends close to my ear. “There’s one other way a king can lose his seat. In the first hours of Goddess Week, a challenge can be issued. If the challenger wins, they become King.”
“Wins what?” Images of duels flash through my mind and squeeze my stomach in a vise grip. I don’t want to see Midas get hurt. I don’t want to lose him before we can figure out what this is.
“Don’t worry, my crown.” He says, wrapping his arm around me. “A challenge hasn’t been issued in two hundred years.”
As if his words are a dare to the universe, and the universe mocks us, a loud, cocky voice rings out, “I challenge the King.”
Chapter 13
Midas and I both spin around to face the crowd and see who spoke. Cyrus stands at the front of the platform with his arms crossed and a smug smile, like he believes Midas doesn’t have a chance.
Midas’s lips curl. “You don’t know what you’re doing, hatchling.”
“That insult only confirms how old you are. Old enough to lose your crown, brother.”
Brother? Now that I look closer, I can see the similarities. It comes out most when Cyrus isn’t smiling, which he seems to do a lot. He doesn’t have his brother’s bulk or white hair, but there’s no mistaking the family resemblance now that I’ve looked for it.
His attitude makes a little more sense now. If things work the same way in the dragon world as in other monarchies, Cyrus would get the throne if his brother gave it up. He probably thought it was a done deal. Before I showed up at Jethro’s party.
Cyrus stalks around the circle, talking as much to the other dragons gathered here as to Midas. “You’re faking a mating bond.”
“Why would I do that?”
“To maintain power!” Cyrus lets his anger slip and his eyes burn.
“A fake mating bond would never result in offspring. It would serve no one to have the royal line die off.”
“It would serve you.” He folds his arms over his chest. “And it wouldn’t die off if I found a mate.”
Midas pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t do this, little brother. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Cyrus’ face is as unmoving as stone. His voice grows louder, “I challenge you for the crown, Midas Ra, in the tradition of our elders, to the death, before all these witnesses. Do you accept?”
