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1
Bertram
“I heard he’s not even of the Pedigree,” said Merewin, a trill in his voice that spoke to the scandal of it all. Like the rest of the agents assembled around the sticky barroom table, he’d flown into Aurora that morning to be on hand while the council assembled, and despite the fact that the council was discussing punitive action against a member of his own clan, he was every bit as eager to gossip about what had happened as the rest of them. “He’s just some commoner Alistair met on the internet,” Merewin continued on to say, eyes sparkling from the thrill of passing on a rumor. “A wild omega without a lick of proper breeding. Can you imagine?”
Eike—from the Sapphire clan—snorted. “I don’t know that I’d go so far as to say that. The omega has laid a clutch—I’d say he’s been properly bred.”
Bertram shot them both a look, but neither saw. They were too busy laughing. It prickled—especially since the butt of their joke was Bertram’s favorite brother—but he couldn’t blame them. Not only had Alistair defied the law by having reproductive sex with an omega outside of his sanctioned period, but he’d bumbled his way into a clutch. It really was quite scandalous, especially as Sebastian’s mate, Peregrine, had recently laid. The Topaz clan especially had not taken the news well, and Kalfken, who sat at the far end of the table from Bertram, looked positively murderous.
Which, to be fair, wasn’t all that unusual for a Topaz dragon.
The difference was that this time, with the law having been so badly broken, there was a chance it could mean war. It was—in short—a headache, and Bertram took no pleasure from it. Should the council rule in Alistair’s favor, it would enrage the Topaz clan and their allies, but should they not…
A sour feeling filled his stomach.
Should they not, the clutch would be destroyed, and more than likely, Alistair with it.
Were anything to happen to his brother, Bertram wasn’t sure what he would do.
Piers, who sat beside him, seemed to pick up on his difficult emotions and leaned over so their shoulders brushed. “Ignore those fools,” he murmured. “The council’s deliberation should be over soon, and once it is, they’ll find something else to laugh about.”
“True, but if our own allies laugh in our faces, what do you suppose our enemies are doing behind our backs?”
“It doesn’t matter. They’re not worth our mental bandwidth.” Piers nudged Bertram’s melting whiskey cocktail toward him. “Drink. Forget about it for now. It will be over before you know it, and soon enough it will be nothing more than a memory, I promise.”
Bertram managed a tired smile. “When did you grow up to be so wise?”
“Around the same time I became so utterly irresistible.” A hint of Sorin’s most impish smile quirked the corner of Piers’s lips. He lifted his glass in Bertram’s direction. “Come. Drink with me. We might as well. Until the council is done deliberating, there’s nothing we can do but wait.”
He was right, so Bertram raised his glass in a toast. Piers nudged him playfully with his shoulder before throwing back his drink, and Bertram got as far as touching his glass to his lips before there came a terrible crash that put an instant end to the chatter.
The bar went silent.
Beneath the table, Bertram summoned forth his claws in preparation for a fight.
In that same instant, he saw where the noise had come from—Kalfken had slammed his fist so hard into the table that the wood had splintered, knocking most of the glasses on it over. Spilled beer rushed into the crater and dripped through the cracks onto the floor below.
Kalfken shot up onto his feet once the damage had been done, his upper lip pulled back in a snarl that revealed dragon’s teeth. His chair toppled to the floor, and with a backward stab of his foot, he kicked it straight into the wall, where it exploded into pieces.
The silence broke.
Several women started shrieking, and panic set in. People rushed for the doors. From the corner of his eye, Bertram saw Eike leave the table to intercept security. It was for their own safety. Human bouncers wouldn’t stand a chance against a dragon with murder on his mind.
With Eike running interference, Bertram focused his attention entirely on Kalfken and found the dragon had his eyes on Bertram and Bertram alone. His phone was clutched in his balled fist, the screen shattered. His claws pierced through into its circuitry, and as Bertram watched, his fist tightened, snapping the phone in two.
Bertram was fully prepared for a fight, and remained seated, watching, waiting for Kalfken to make the first move. He was not expecting Piers to plant his elbow on the table and cup his jaw casually in his hand, looking up at Kalfken like he was bored.
“Do you lack proper training, Kalfken?” he goaded, one eyebrow raised. “I wouldn’t expect an outburst like this from an agent of the council—it seems your anger is getting the better of you. It’s a shame, really. What was it you told me all those years ago?” He tapped a finger on his cheek thoughtfully, rolling his eyes skyward in mockery of contemplation. “Ah, yes. There it is. You told me emotions were weakness, and if I couldn’t control mine, I might as well quit. Perhaps the time has come for you to do the same.”
Thick black smoke curled out of Kalfken’s nostrils, and the full hatred of his gaze shifted from Bertram to Piers. Piers did not let it deter him. He held Kalfken’s gaze with unwavering confidence until Kalfken grunted in disgust and left the table, then the bar, slamming the door shut behind him.
All was quiet for a while longer, then Merewin burst out laughing, and the tension broke. Conversation resumed, and Bertram put away his claws.
“Provoking him was unnecessary,” Bertram said quietly to Piers once they were no longer the center of attention.
“Maybe.” Piers shrugged. “But damn, did it feel good.”
Bertram didn’t doubt it, but it did make him wonder what had happened to Piers when he had been away with Kalfken for training all those years ago. It was a mystery he’d have to solve another day, for there were more pressing matters at hand.
