“Go ahead.” Iron-rich spittle dripped down his chin, his voice slurring. “Fucking teach me another lesson,Father.” He stared into Arran’s eyes but there was nothing in them. No love, no pity, no compassion. As if his father was more machine than male.
Cael was all too familiar with his father’s mechanical gaze—one he used to try to emulate. It was why he’d joined the Vestians, why he’d aspired to a position with the Vasilikans. Arran had always seemed so in control of his emotions. Like he’d solved the great mystery of survival.
Feel nothing, bury everything, don’t cry, don’t show affection, suck it up.
Be amale.
But that was no way to live.
Tristan had tried to teach that to Cael over the years, but Cael had been too stubborn to learn the lesson.
It was only when assaulted by Xenia’s positivity, her compassion, that he realized how wrong his father had been. Abouteverything.How wrong Cael himself had been.
And if Cael survived this mess, he’d spend the rest of his life becoming a better male. For her.
He held his father’s gaze, the mad smile never leaving his mouth. “If you’re going to end me, you’d better make damn sure to do it permanently. Because if you don’t, I’m going to marry thatlittle humanand pump her full of half-breeds. And I will relish destroying the Zephyrus family name.”
Cael howled, hysteria overtaking him at his father’s horrified expression. He felt no terror, barely any anger. Only pure joy. Because in his heart, heknewthat end was waiting for him. A staunch belief in the most positive outcome.
He was moments away from blissful unconsciousness when something slammed into the ground behind Arran, rattling the chairs like bloodied bones.
Viktor and Tomas’s hands trembled as they looked over their father’s shoulder.
Signys’s horns and scales glistened in the twilight, her iridescent wings tucked against her back and her long, spiked tail swiping the ground behind her.
Arran turned and all the color fled his face. He whipped his petrified, furious gaze back to Cael. “Whatdid you do?”
Cael caught the dragon’s kaleidoscopic eyes.What’s the word for fire in your language?
He wrenched his arm from Viktor’s distracted grasp, then pulled the flute out from underneath his shirt.
“No,” Arran whispered, suitably horrified.
The word was crystal-clear in Cael’s mind, uttered in a deep, lovely female voice.
Fieyrtes.
Cael tapped the opal on his cuff and portaled out of Tomas’s grip. Right to Signys’s side.
And Cael stroked her scales, grinning as his bonded dragon roasted Arran Zephyrus and his two eldest heirs alive.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Tristan stared out the tower window, trying to will the noonday sun to creep across the sky faster.
If the tiny band of soldiers in this tower—himself, Cassandra, Silas, Ronin, and Mireille—could hold out until Cael arrived with the dragon…
It had been forty-eight hours since Tristan had given Cael the dragon’s name. How many more hours would his friend need?
Overnight, a few Brethren had tried to breach their door, but they’d been chased away by the massive double-headed axe Cassandra had picked up downstairs. Tristan had used it to slice off a few hands, smash a few shins, lop off a head. After that, the Brethren had stopped trying to break through their barricade.
Wormwood—as arrogant and slimy as ever—had stopped by this morning before dawn.
“You’re going to have to come out of there eventually,” the weasel bi-form had crooned through the door. “You have no food, no water. And you may have thought you were clever, barricading yourself within a room with a single entry point. But thatalsomeans you have only one exit point. Where you will find us waiting as soon as starvation forces you out. Or you could take your chances out the window. But know that wealsohaveBrethren armed with bows and arrows in the courtyard and on the east wall. I’m sure they’dloveto pick you off one by one should you attempt to scale down the tower. Not sure you all could manage such a thing, anyway. One of you is quite injured, yes?”
Tristan hadn’t bothered answering.
That had been an hour ago, before Tristan had encouraged Cassandra to tuck up into a corner to get some rest. She’d cocooned her wings around her body with only her head poking through her feathers. Silas was snoring gently against the stone wall beside her.
