Flint Onyx meditated in his mother’s spaceship as it hurtled toward Draconis, the main planet of the Dragon Empire.

The marriage summons showed on his view screen.

…as the seventh and final dragonlet of House Onyx, you will take the claw of the new Empress of Draconis, her consort…

His stomach squeezed.

Odd.

He should not feel nervous. All was proceeding according to his plan.

Flint stretched in human form, cracked his back, and shook out his arms. He straightened his dark gray business suit and smoothed the Chinese collar.

Another pang lanced his stomach.

He took a deep, calming breath and focused on his strategy board.

Red metal warships clustered around the key resources of the Empire. Some were flagged to the Palace; others belonged to the five aristocratic families who fought for control.

In the center of his board spun Draconis.

Farther out were the Outer Rim planets. They had once marked the edge of known space.

Way off to the right rotated the Colony planets, where most of the Palace warships were engaged.

And then way down at the bottom of the board—so far away that, to be to scale, he’d have to extend it through the hull and into outer space—spun a tiny, resource-poor, backwater planet named Earth.

He edged a Palace warship closer to Earth, then away.

Five years ago, the humans of Earth had thought they were alone in the universe. They barely remembered the survey the Dragon Empire had conducted during their Middle Ages. So, when Flint and his siblings had shown up, they had been almost comically surprised—

Bling!

A call from Earth dissolved the marriage summons on his view screen.

He accepted.

“Flint!” His oldest brother, Mal, spoke gruffly. “Mother just told us the news. Come back to Earth. Don’t marry the Empress!”

The video showed a conference room at the Onyx Corporation headquarters building in Vancouver, Washington.

Flint’s dragon siblings sat around a conference table wearing business suits and somber expressions. Their human spouses sat beside them. They all looked serious and worried.

How adorable.

Before voyaging to Earth, his siblings had barely known each other. Rejected by their aristocratic grand dragon and doomed to the low caste, they’d been forced into an orphanage and raised with limited contact.

But look at them now. They cared.

And so did he.

“It’s unavoidable,” Flint assured them so they wouldn’t worry. “Necessary to save the company, in fact.”

“Necessary?” Mal slammed his palms on the massive conference table, overturning coffee mugs and causing the humans to jump. “How can a no-name, low-caste dragon marrying the Empress of Draconis be necessary?”

“Trust me—”

“The old Empress gave up her insane offer when we married humans. Come back to Earth, and we’ll find you a spouse!”

“You won’t survive a night in the Palace.” Alex, the sixth sibling, told Flint. His exotic dual-color eyes, teal and lavender, flashed with ice. “The old Empress ripped off the arms of her last consort. The new Empress is rumored to be more vicious.”

“Rumored,” Flint repeated with a flippant grin. “Who can trust rumors?”

“Flint!”

His siblings devolved into shouts and arguments. Just because you’re smart doesn’t mean you can afford to lose a few limbs! And so forth.

He edged the model warship a little closer to Earth.

The hubbub quieted.

Mal took over again. “To find you a human spouse, Alex has made you a dating profile. Alex?”

“You don’t have to—”

“Listen to this.” Alex read from a computer screen. “Hyperintelligent, emotionally distant recluse desires marriage. Must love curt responses, cryptic answers, having no idea where your new husband is, and being unable to reach him most of the time.”

The dragons all nodded.

The humans traded skeptical looks.

Alex continued. “You will be female, unmarried, and a passionate defender of the Second Amendment.”

“Hold up.” Darcy, their human vice president, raised an index finger. “You want a girl who’s a big fan of the Second Amendment?”

“As an American, you should know about it, Darcy.” Amber nudged him with her elbow. She was a terrifying female dragon, but in human form, she looked misleadingly small in her petite cream blouse, plaid skirt, and maroon Mary Janes. “It’s the right to bear arms.”

“But ‘arms’ in this case means guns.”

“Yes, guns.” She encircled his bicep.

“No, not those guns. Guns.” Darcy made the finger gestures for shooting bullets.

“Fingers and hands too.”

“No, no. Machine guns, cannons, you know. Bombs. Actually, those aren’t protected. Do not stockpile bombs. Or cannons. Hmm, I wonder about machine guns now…”

Amber frowned. “What a confusing rule.”

“Well, sure, it causes a lot of debate.”

Alex tapped on the keyboard. “I was under the impression that this country protected the right to keep one’s arms from being ripped off by an angry spouse.”

His wife, a slender human barista, gave him a skeptical look. “Were you that worried about it?”

All the dragon males nodded.

“Okay, well, don’t worry.” Darcy reached across Amber and patted Alex’s shoulder. “The right to your own arms is protected under the ‘life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness’ part.”

They collectively sighed with relief.

“And anyway,” Flint interrupted with what he hoped was a winning grin, “I’m not marrying a human, regardless of her opinion on my arms.”

They all argued with him, shouting over each other to change his mind.

He edged the warship model farther away.

Once more, CEO Mal roared over them for silence. “Okay, Flint. You don’t have to marry a human. We’ll think of some other way to rescue you.”

“I’m not in need of rescue.”

“You could…” Mal gestured foggily. “You could marry a human…no. You could go into exile, or…”

“You like being alone,” Amber said.

“Exile would be very agreeable to you,” Jasper, their fifth sibling, agreed.

Everyone nodded firmly.

“And we could still call you up and ask you for advice on the company,” Mal continued, “which we couldn’t do if you become the Empress’s consort.”

“Mal!” his siblings wailed.

“Way to stay ‘on message,’” Darcy said with a teasing smile.

He looked surprised. “I’m just saying—”

“A company is more important than Flint’s life,” Alex said coldly.

“No!”

“That is what you said, Mal.”

“Flint spent five years building this company to knock aristocrats off the top of the business charts! He cares as much about beating them as I do! As we all do! And if exporting exotic human-form clothing is the way to do it, he won’t throw our company away just to satisfy some new female, even if she is the Empress!”

Respectful silence followed his rant.

Flint cleared his throat. “Actually…”

“No!” Mal glared at him. “End this madness and return. It’s the only way to save my company.”

“Actually, the only way to save your company is for me to marry the Empress.”

“Why?”

“Trust me.”

“But—”

“The same way you trusted me to go to Earth, the same way you trusted me to negotiate the Dragon-Human Treaty, the same way you trusted me to export your first bathrobe, fuzzy slippers, and kimono.” Flint grinned with as much confidence as he could muster. “Marrying the Empress is the best way to save the Onyx Corporation.”

Fury contorted Mal’s blunt features. His fingernails elongated to claws. Malachite-green scales pushed up over the human skin, interlocking in impenetrable armor.

He stood and roared. “Fine. Forget the company!”

Stunned silence followed.

“Forget the company?” Flint stuck a finger in one ear, trying to lighten the mood. “Who said that?”

“M-Mal did,” his timid human wife, Cheryl, said softly.

Adorable.

Mal rested a broad, scaly palm over her hand. “He heard me. You all did.”

Nobody responded. They were still shocked.

He focused on Flint. “It’s not too late. You’re a smart dragon. You can think your way out of this death sentence. And that’s what it is. You go to the Palace, and you won’t come back alive.”

“You think I’m smart enough to escape an engagement, but not smart enough to handle myself at the Palace?”

“It’s not like your strategy boards. If you make a mistake, you can die. I’d rather have you alive than own a hundred companies.”

Unfamiliar warmth blossomed in Flint’s chest.

Their scattered family had managed to come together and forge a connection despite all odds.

Now, with the very Empire at stake, he’d done his best to protect his siblings. And, even though they understood nothing of what he was doing, they tried to protect him.

“Even if it would be great to beat more aristocrats,” Mal muttered.

“I’ll make you a promise, Mal. When I’m the Empress’s consort, I’ll topple the whole aristocracy.”

Mal teared up. He sniffled and cleared his throat. “Well, in that case—”

“No!” his siblings shouted.

“All right, all right!” Mal retracted his claws back into ordinary human hands. “One last question.”

“Sure?”

“Our rank fell during the unstable weeks between empresses. Should we next export leggings, kaftans, or accessories?”

“Mal!” the other siblings screamed at him.

Flint’s portable view screen chimed.

He answered.

Their mother’s large red dragon face appeared. “Flint, my dear Ferocia Carnelian tells me your ship has been sighted by— Well! If it isn’t all my lovely dragonlets!”

Flint angled the portable view screen to more easily communicate with the Earth conference room. “Everyone? Mother says hi.”

His announcement penetrated the brewing fight.

His siblings jumped apart and shrank into their stretched business suits. Their spouses rushed to greet her.

“Isn’t this fun?” Mother stretched her neck, preening. “Here I am, in the very Palace, awaiting the marriage of my final dragonlet, and what do I see when I give him a call? All my wonderful dragonlets with their spouses! What good timing. Now, when are you going to start producing my grand dragonlets?”

The couples traded awkward looks.

Mother had missed raising Flint and his siblings because her mother, then matriarch, had forced her to give them up. Now her parents were long dead. She couldn’t wait for a second chance.

“Are there any new announcements? Any surprises since I called yesterday afternoon? Ferocia has twenty-seven dragonlets, you know.”

“Everybody has to go,” Flint interrupted. “They were just wishing me good luck.”

“Ah, I see.” Their mother squinted into the view screen. “Now that you’ve reminded me, what are all of you doing at the office? Isn’t today a human vacation day?”

“It’s a Tuesday,” Mal said.

“And what better day for you to go home and get busy? As the matriarch of this family and therefore the official owner of your little company, I hereby order you to take the rest of the day off.”

Mal spluttered. “Little company? We’re the number one company outside Draconis!”

“Were,” Alex said.

“And we have to get back to the number one spot!”

“Absolutely not,” their mother said.

“But—”

“Not while you could be making me grand dragonlets.” Their mother lifted her elegant snout. Aristocratic silver piercings dangled. She narrowed on her second-oldest son. “Pyro, you’ve been married almost as long as Mal has, but your wife has yet to announce her pregnancy. Do you need me to come down to Earth and supervise? Perhaps I should rearrange your lairs to encourage more vigorous activity.”

“Not needed. I’m out.” Pyro clasped Mal on the shoulder, his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Happy Tuesday.”

Mal protested. “This is a work day!”

“You’re supposed to be working to make me grand dragonlets. Does anyone else need personal supervision?”

Flint’s siblings hustled out with their spouses.

Mal grumbled as he reached for the button to end the call. “It’s not fair. Cheryl’s already carrying my dragonlet.”

“So go give her a massage,” their mother urged. “Pamper her well so she’ll want to bear more.”

He reddened to the point of apoplexy. “Are you accusing me of not pampering my wife?”

“Yes, Mal. If you aren’t worried about your wife at this critical time when she is bearing my grand dragonlets, then you are not pampering her enough.”

Cheryl linked her arm in his. “It’s fine. I feel pampered.”

“Hmm. Well, if you say you are, then I suppose perhaps my son is doing an acceptable job. For now.” Their mother raised a claw in warning. “But if I hear otherwise, Malachite, I will shut down your company until I too have at least as many grand dragonlets as Ferocia!”

“That will take forever!”

“Then you had better get started.” Mother turned her attention to Flint. “Ferocia and I are waiting for you in the Palace grounds. It’s already quite crowded. Don’t let any of those rough main-planet dragons push you around.”

Their mother closed the connection.

Mal sighed and squared off to Flint. “I meant what I said about the company. It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“On the contrary, it was too late five years ago.”

Mal frowned. “I’m never going to understand you, am I?”

“Nobody does. Don’t feel bad.”

“I feel fine. You’re the one who’s flying into a death trap.” Mal accepted Cheryl’s comforting pats and reached again for the button to cut the connection.

“Mal.” Flint grinned. “Leggings and kaftans.”

“Huh? Oh!” Mal brightened and patted his suit pockets for a writing implement, settling on Cheryl’s art tablet tucked under her arm. “Great, great. Those can go together…”

“Make sure they are multifunctional.”

“Multifunctional?”

“Convertible, wrinkle-free, and easy to pack for travel or exploration.”

“…convertible…wrinkle-free…and easy to pack for travel or…what? Exploration? Flint, we’ve already reached the limits of the Empire with no possibility for expanding. Why would a dragon care about—”

“It’s time to dock. Wish me luck.”

Mal left the tablet on the table and hugged Cheryl. “Come back.”

“That’s the idea.” Flint closed the connection.

The ship chimed that it had docked successfully.

Excellent.

He had perfectly calculated the length of the conversation and calmed the unsettling sensations in his lower torso.

His guts twinged.

Mostly.

The recently crowned Empress of Draconis, Galena, stretched her large, elegant body. Muscles rippled down her long neck and thick, meaty shoulders to her deadly claws. She yawned, baring her awesome fangs, and closed her mouth with a snap.

Then she ambled from her private caverns through the wide hall.

Her black-silver claws clicked on the same stones that had borne the mass of her ancestors, most recently her mother, and the echoes made her feel smaller than she was. She puffed out her battle-ready chest.

Soon, she would not be alone on this quest any longer. The mistakes she’d made, the betrayals she’d committed, they would all be justified. Forgiven, even. She had to believe that. Because she had done this, all this, for one reason.

“My Empress.” Her female security guard Linarite, one of the few dragons who’d remained loyal, stared at her strong body with respect. “The most powerful males of the Empire have gathered to answer your engagement summons. We will open the pavilion on your command.”

This was it.

A shiver started at the base of Galena’s tail. The nervous tic made her scales rattle.

How funny. She had defeated all her hardy, strong, brutal half-sisters in mortal combat to take this position, and a simple task like selecting a consort made her as nervous as her first battle.

Linarite’s eyes widened.

“How thrilling,” Galena said with a forced laugh, trying to disguise her nerves as excitement. “So many eligible males. I look forward to the ceremony.”

Linarite bobbed her head, blithely accepting the lie. Her deep blue body shone with oil. “Shall I convey your command to open the pavilion?”

“Yes, of course.”

She spoke into a tiny communicator attached to her jaw. “Open the pavilion. Yes, the Empress ordered it. No.” Linarite’s gaze flicked to Galena and away again. “I’m just conveying her orders.”

Galena honed her claws on the ancient rock. “Problem?”

“It is nothing, my Empress. A small misunderstanding with the Palace entrance guard.”

“What kind of misunderstanding?”

“Once we open the pavilion, she doesn’t believe we have enough security dragons to keep low castes off the Palace grounds.”

“I already ordered the guards to allow low castes onto the grounds.”

“Yes, my Empress.”

“Did you remind her?”

Linarite swallowed and averted her gaze. “I am only your inner chambers guard, my Empress.”

Because after Galena assumed the crown, the head of security had resigned, along with nearly half the guards. That wasn’t unusual when a new Empress entered the Palace. What was unusual was that Galena didn’t bring her own feverishly loyal entourage with her. And, since the head of security and all the guards had known that, their resignations were a form of protest.

No one had expected her to become Empress.

That was why her selection of a consort was so important today. She had to choose the strongest, most powerful male to consolidate her rule.

But until then…

“I will speak to the leader of the entrance guards,” Galena said.

Linarite flew to the small view screen embedded in the cavern wall. Moments later, the head of the entrance security appeared on the screen. Throngs of dragons crowded outside the gates. Those with aristocratic piercings were waved through.

“My Empress!” the Palace entrance security guard cried cheerfully. “Have you got more dragons for us? My gate guards are good, the best, but there’s no way we can keep the mudrock low castes out if we have to split off and police the pavilion.”

“About that…” Galena said. “As I instructed you yesterday, do not worry about keeping the ‘mudrock low castes’ out.”

The guard blinked. “Huh?”

“Split off, as we discussed, and open the pavilion.”

“But the mudrocks—”

“Some of them may get in, yes.”

“And they’re not allowed.”

“Under normal circumstances, but today is a special day. Let’s overlook it.”

The guard gave a confused laugh. “But low castes aren’t allowed on the Palace grounds. That’s the rule.”

“Yes, I know—”

“That’s always been the rule. No low castes. Not on Palace grounds.”

An itch pinned Galena between her broad shoulder blades. One that, no matter how she contorted, she couldn’t quite scratch.

“I’ve been a gate guard for five decades,” the guard continued, “and before that, I worked in the archives, and there were never any low castes allowed. Except, of course, the Scholars. They could be low castes, but they were allowed—only in the archives, though, never in the Palace proper. But them aside, Empress Horribus always declared there be no low castes…”

Galena endured her prattle until the itch became painful. She finally snapped, “Yes, I know my mother said that!”

The gate guard broke off in shock.

Galena took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “My mother isn’t Empress any more. I am. Just this once, you are going to make an exception and ignore any low castes.”

“But they’re not allowed.”

“Just… If one or two got inside, would it really be that bad?”

The guard blinked hard. “Yes! They’re mudrocks who don’t deserve to breathe the same air as worthy aristocrats like you and me. Well, like you were, before you were Empress.”

“Indeed. Let’s review.” Galena’s muscles quivered. “Do I make the rules?”

“Yes, of course you do. You’re the Empress!”

“And do you obey my rulings?”

“I’m as loyal as they come, my Empress, you better believe—”

“Then do you understand that I am right now ruling to allow the low castes onto Palace grounds?”

The gate guard blinked several times.

“Yes,” Galena answered her own question. “They’re allowed. Now go open the pavilion!”

“B-but, my Empress, we can’t leave the entry gates. The low castes have been waiting for their chance. We’ll be overrun by wily wyrms!”

She wanted to launch herself through the view screen and challenge the gate guard to teeth-to-claw combat.

Instead, she closed the connection and turned to Linarite. “Do you understand my orders?”

Linarite bobbed her head. “Yes, my Empress.”

“Is there a reason you never put yourself forth for head of Palace security?”

Linarite’s wings flexed against her back, very slightly opening and then closing tight like a proper dragon. “I’m so young, my Empress. Surely a more experienced guard deserves the job.”

“My critics also call me young and inexperienced.”

Linarite froze. She swallowed, and then her head bobbed. “Forgive me, my Empress.”

Galena removed one silver loop from the small chain at the base of her wings. It glittered with fire opals. She handed it to Linarite. “You will gain experience quickly. There is no fire so hot as the one that burns under your wings.”

Linarite accepted the loop and clipped it to her brow ridge. Only the slightest tremor showed her feelings about the promotion. “Thank you, my Empress. I will not fail you.”

“Open the pavilion,” Galena ordered. “Begin the ceremony. Low castes are allowed in the Palace. Make the gate security understand.”

“Yes, my Empress.” Her new head of Palace security whirled, intense dark blue scales flashing, and flew down the caverns until she disappeared.

Inexperienced or not, Linarite was at least efficient. And she understood Galena. Two points in her favor. Oh, and she was willing to accept a new idea. Point number three.

No wonder her mother had taken to ripping dragons’ arms off.

Galena wasn’t going to be like that. She would rule differently.

Starting with her choice of consort.

Nerves shivered across her scales again.

She sucked in and released a deep breath, shook her scales and her wings, and clicked slowly down the hall, crossing the same stones her ancestors had crossed for generations.

Would she destroy the Empire or save it?

It all depended on who she selected for her consort.

* * *

Flint flew through the ship, still wearing his dark gray business suit, and landed at the airlock beside his shoulder-height shipping trunk. The stellarium in his blood allowed him to reverse gravity at will, whether in human form or shifted to dragon.

He activated the trunk’s antigravitational buffer. The trunk hovered off the metal floor.

The airlock hissed as the air of Draconis rushed inside. He’d set the pressure, temperature, and atmospheric mix to change during the trip from his origin point, at his mother’s estate in the Outer Rim, to Draconis, and so his ears didn’t even pop.

The smell of brimstone and nearby desert, a sweet earthy dust-after-rain petrichor, filled his human nostrils.

He pushed the freight out of the airlock and down to the planet.

The ground was blue, the sky brick red, and a large lavender moon hung low in the sky.

The Palace was centrally located on the largest continent—as was proper—against a glacial mountain range. Each mountain dramatically punched up through the earth and rock. Inside were ice caves, where much of the population made their permanent lairs.

The landing area was south of the foothills on a plain that dropped into the turquoise sea. Smaller potholes of bright blue dotted the desert.

Based on the moon’s position, he didn’t have much time until the engagement ceremony.

Porters floated at the landing platform, gave him a once-over—assumedly searching for the silver piercings of an aristocratic dragon—and reversed. They awaited a more important dignitary.

That suited him fine.

Flint flew his trunk to the fastest exit.

Inspectors stopped him.

The main inspector huffed forward. He was a lumpy blue dragon with a yellow sheen over his scales. “That is a strange uniform for a lowly courier. Your exit is with the other no-names.”

“I have clearance to use this gate.”

“But you’re not an aristocrat, low caste. Get back to your side.”

Flint faced down the self-important male. “If my delivery to the Palace consort ceremony is delayed, you’ll answer to matriarch Ferocia Carnelian.”

“I’m doing my job.”

“So am I.” Flint tilted his head to take a better look at the inspector. Dragons were named after minerals in the modern era. “Let me guess. Inspector Evansite?”

The inspector’s jaw dropped. He snapped it closed and shook himself. “My name is none of your concern.”

“From House Tektite, I can see, by your half-hidden crest.” Flint tapped his own human shoulder to indicate where Inspector Evansite had affixed an identifying charm. “Your matriarch is quite friendly with House Carnelian. In fact, she—”

“Don’t pretend you know me! I only surround myself with dragons of the proper rank.”

“Then don’t stop me, as I’m clearly on another level.” Flint bunched his muscles to fly.

“No, no, no. This is an inspection. A lone dragon like you is suspicious, and no one will say otherwise. Open the trunk.”

Flint weighed his options, then keyed in the passcode to open a sliver. Even at a sliver, the trunk unfolded to reveal wonders. Silk, wine, chocolate rested at the top, and each of them in the correct controlled environment.

Inspector Evansite’s jaw dropped. He called to the inspectors inside the control booth, “Hey, come look at this here!”

A crowd gathered in awe.

“Is…is that…?”

“Goods for the Empress? Yes.”

Inspector Evansite reached out to stroke the butterfly-print silk on the top.

Flint shut the trunk with a snap.

Inspector Evansite jerked his claw out of the way. “Careful, low caste!”

“Don’t sully her goods with your claws.”

“H-how dare you!” Inspector Evansite puffed his chest, in dragon form towering over Flint. “Open it at once! I’ll touch whatever I want for the inspection. If anything’s damaged, you’ll be blamed.”

“Me?” Flint widened his eyes with innocence and tilted his head. “Inspector Evansite, do you know who I am?”

The inspector put his weight on his back haunches and traded uneasy glances with the other dragons. They didn’t.

Flint capitalized on his weirdness by floating closer to them, a tiny human in front of massive dragons, making them even more uncomfortable. “Do you want to?”

“W-well, if we can’t inspect, then we have to confiscate the whole trunk for breaking sumptuary laws. Low-caste dragons can’t possess better things than aristocrats. Not even when they’re transporting them!”

“Check my import orders.” Flint grinned with all his very human teeth. “I dare you.”

The inspector growled. “I’m a generous dragon, so I’ll let you through. But if I ever catch you using the aristocrat entrance again, you won’t be so lucky.”

“Very generous.” He lifted the trunk again and flew toward the plains.

“I’ll cuff you in shackles! You’ll be judged by the Empress’s new consort!” the inspector shouted after him. “Nobody threatens me. The next time we meet, you’ll be on a transport for the killing fields of the Colonies! Low-caste trash.”

Flint banked onto the main thoroughfare from port to Palace.

The insult slipped under his skin with mild irritation.

Being called low-caste trash was such a common slur, and he shouldn’t feel anything. There was no art, no creativity in it. But in the same way he seemed to have lost control of his nervousness, the insult stung.

Flint flew over the knots of dragon porters carrying pallets of goods to and fro, the commerce that pumped through the veins of the Dragon Empire. All goods traveled through the Palace, no matter the start or the end of the journey.

The Palace was the heart.

It loomed, a stone monolith the size of a mountain, a tower as massive as the human’s mythical Babel that dwarfed everything around it. A complex of private caverns beneath were capped by exposed courtyards. Black char on the right tower was a mark of recent wars. Unlike Empire dragons, the Colonists had no compunction about scarring the Palace.

Flint followed the mass influx of visiting dragons to the main entrance.

Palace entry guards seemed sparser and more frantic than usual. One vigorously lectured a crowd of low castes on how they were never getting inside the Palace grounds, not on her watch, and not off it either.

He casually joined the stream of dragons flowing in behind her.

The shadow of the cavern mouth fell over him.

No matter what happened after this, he would not leave on his own.

Whether he was chosen today for the Empress’s consort or not.

A soft blue glow illuminated the inner caves. He dropped to the fitted stone floor and walked, the trunk humming quietly as it floated on its own. Stalactites hung down like fangs.

The inner caverns felt even larger than the last time he’d walked through them. In human form, everything giant was multiplied.

Black marks scorched the inner walls. Colonist fighters had gotten this far before they’d been turned aside.

He approached the Dragon’s Gate. Aristocrats flew overhead, while others clustered and waited. Overwhelmed guards paid him no attention.

Flint crossed between the two massive dragon bodies with human female heads and blades for ears. The tips were broken off because a long-ago Empress had ruled that no dragon in the Palace could be taller than her—statues included.

Such was the score of history. One age carved massive statues to show the power of the Empire, and another age knocked them down for the same reason.

“Flint!” His mother soared above the knots of aristocrats and landed in front of him. She lowered her head, and her eyes made crescents in happiness. “You look so handsome. Just like your father. The Empress won’t be able to take her eyes off you.”

He automatically analyzed her statements.

First, Mother thought all her sons were handsome, even his horrifically scarred former black ops brother Kyan. She suffered from maternal blindness.

Second, their father had been a low-caste brimstone miner. He was truly the definition of a “mudrock” and had never been accused of being handsome.

And third, the Empress’s eyes might have trouble leaving him for many reasons, and not because of his looks. He’d entered Palace grounds as a low-caste Onyx male, not as a caste-neutral Scholar.

His stomach flipped.

At least he had a good reason for it now.

But there was no need to burden anyone with his intellect. He managed a demure “Thank you, Mother.”

“Of course.” She beamed. “Walk with me. Ferocia wishes to see what a fine dragon you’ve become.”

Flint pushed his trunk down the long, crowded Hall of Names.

Mother made a dominant sight, large and proud, her silver rings and piercings clinking. Younger aristocrats scrambled out of her way, and even some older ones stared in silent respect. Their family name, Onyx, was inscribed at the midpoint of the Hall of Names, in the upper corner. He’d looked.

Everyone ignored him. Which meant their gazes traveled over his human form, seeking out the signs that he was worth their notice, and then actively deflected as if he weren’t there.

A low caste of no importance.

They broke out of the hall, crossed another wide courtyard, and then entered the grand pavilion.

This huge open-air amphitheater held the coronations, battles, and full council meetings of government. The sky formed the ceiling, and as the natural light faded into twilight, green and blue streaked the evening.

Flint followed his mother to the tiers.

Palace advisers and important matriarchs filled the lowest tiers. Then, aristocrats filled the tiers in decreasing levels of importance.

He forced himself to follow his mother up the middle steps. The sensation of eyes burned his exposed skin. The more tiers they passed, the more grumbling of the dragons could be heard. His scales shivered.

Finally, a guard stopped them. “His kind is not allowed here.”

Flint’s mother’s throat glowed, and smoke curled from her nostrils. “But they told me he was. Today—”

“Only aristocrats are allowed inside the pavilion.”

“But he’s my dragonlet. He’s mine.”

“And you’re lucky we let you in. Outer Rim dragons are barely aristocrats.” The guard, a sleek but firm female, pointed the tri-clawed end of her long staff down the tiers to the exit. “No low castes.”

“He’s been summoned by the Empress herself! You should—”

“Mother.” Flint rested a calming hand on her quivering forearm. “It’s time anyway. I should go.”

“But this isn’t right at all. You are my dragonlet.” Mother craned her neck over the guard. “Look. Ferocia is expecting you! She’s sitting with—”

“She’ll see me soon.” Flint reversed with the trunk, waved to his disappointed mother, and returned to the courtyard.

He followed the rowdier, louder crowd of males to the pavilion entrance at the bottom level. The roar on the air was deafening. All the tiers of dragons were filled with aristocrats. Far overhead, low-caste dragons streaked across the sky for a view before being chased off. Flint was at the center of the universe.

And he only had one chance to prove his worth.

A single low-caste dragon in front of an Empress.

Flint navigated the pavilion filled with the throngs of aristocratic males.

Earlier this year, Empress Horribus had sent her marriage summons to Flint’s brothers one at a time. It had scandalized the aristocracy and convinced everyone she was losing her mind.

The new Empress had announced to all the Empire she would choose her consort today. And Flint had received a personal summons on her behalf.

It raised questions.

How many other males had received a personal summons?

Who was Flint’s real competition today?

The males of the highest families had gathered to woo her favor. They were strong, arrogant, and well attended by servants.

Half the servants wore human clothing—it was becoming trendy even in the heart of the Empire—and so Flint did not stand out as he followed the others onto the pavilion. His rivals set up elaborate displays of rubies the size of boulders, bricks of highly valuable waterstones used in dragon food replicators, scale models of warships.

He selected a spot in the center with good visibility to the stage. Not too presumptuous, not too meek. He disengaged the antigravity, and the trunk lowered to rest on the silt-dusted stone.

Snarling fights erupted over the best spots. Guards intervened, separating parties before blood was shed.

One male shoved Flint’s trunk with a broad shoulder. “Get out of my spot.”

“There are no assigned spots.”

“And your master’s not here to defend himself. Get out.”

Flint’s mind whirled with possible answers.

He didn’t act quickly enough.

The male slammed a claw into his chest and threw him to the stone. Fangs snicked at the tip of Flint’s nose. “Out of my way, low caste.”

A guard swished by, ignoring the fight.

Because it wasn’t a fight, of course. It was an aristocrat putting a low-caste dragon in his place.

The male stepped off Flint’s chest and shoved his trunk. It slid into another dragon’s site. They roared and shoved it away. It disappeared into the crowds.

The male’s servant, a lesser aristocrat with shiny black scales, murmured, “Oh, my lord, you don’t want to set up too close to that suitor. His chest is so barrel shaped, he makes a healthy dragon look positively weak. Perhaps over there, on the other side?”

The male stalked off, not even taking Flint’s spot that he’d fought over.

Flint picked himself up and dusted off his suit. Dirt had smudged it, and claws made small rips. Pebbles dripped onto his collar. He patted the dust out of his hair.

Bitter anger boiled in his chest.

He chased his trunk through the crowd, imagining all the ways he could come into power and then decimate the male. That male, the guard who had insulted his mother, and all the aristocrats who had looked down on them.

He found his trunk against the farthest corner, half hidden behind a quartz display.

The fantasy burned hot.

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out.

Passion got him nowhere. Only intellect would save him now.

Flint floated atop the trunk and got his bearings. His good spot had been taken by a dragon suitor who didn’t worry about the shape of his chest.

Flint dusted down his slacks again, then cracked the trunk. The contents had their own gravity, so they were unharmed by the outside abuse.

There was no space to set up.

Therefore, he had to make a new strategy to catch the Empress’s attention.

He removed a small sewing kit, shouldered out of his jacket, and sewed the repairs. Many dragons didn’t have this talent, but he had developed it when his family had established their clothing company. Finished, he stowed the kit in his inner suit pocket, spot-cleaned and lint-rolled his jacket, and put it back on. Then, he sealed the trunk and perched on top, legs casually crossed, chin resting on one hand, looking for all the world like a human who’d come to watch a spectacle.

A cry directed all attention to the stage.

The Empress emerged.

Respectful silence filled the pavilion, even far overhead, and the low howl of winds cut by the mountain’s teeth could be heard.

Flint’s stomach churned with nerves.

The Empress floated over the pavilion, neck arched, wings spread, and then soared over the gathered males and the tiers of the aristocrat audience. Dark gray, almost black, scales glistened with silver highlights in the setting sun.

Large and fast for her age, she was still sleek, and despite winning the brutal battle, she seemed untested. She assumed her perch on the stage, arched her back to flare her wings, and posed.

Everyone shouted in unison. “Empress! Empress! Empress!”

His own voice joined them.

She folded her wings against her sinuous spine.

The chant cut off.

Now began the viewing ceremony.

Matriarchs of the hundred important houses, plus their advisers, descended to the pavilion and walked past the Empress, showing their obedience through attention.

Security dragons patrolled with weapons.

Her seat had been hard-fought, and there was a lot of uncertainty about her ability to hold it.

Flint committed the passers to memory. The exercise had been useful in the orphanage and invaluable when he’d tested into the Scholars.

Finally, the matriarchs returned to their tiers, and the pavilion walkways cleared.

“The Empress will now evaluate the consorts!” a crier announced.

The Empress nodded to her security and descended into the crowded pavilion.

Conversation buzzed with an undercurrent of anger and tension.

The Empress strolled curiously from one dragon to the next, her scales shimmering with health. She stopped and watched one male aristocrat bite a metal bar into pieces.

He smiled with pieces of metal lodged in his fangs. “I will tear apart any dragon who threatens you with my own teeth and claws.”

Without answer, she moved on.

Another dragon caught her eye, a much older mature male with a gruff voice and unmistakable virility. “My house creates unstoppable warriors. I have fathered multiple dragonlets who have been decorated in the Colony Wars. When you ally with me, you ally with strength.”

She lifted a silvery brow ridge, amused or possibly intrigued, and carried on. Past one site and another, considering each suitor, never stopping for longer than a moment, she wended toward and then away from Flint, touring until the sky turned a deep blue and red flames erupted from the historic torches all along the amphitheater.

And then she returned, all the way to the back, thorough in her inspections.

Her eyes passed over Flint and then jerked back, and she stopped.

Her gaze electrified him.

She tilted her head as if she had never seen a dragon in human form before. Amusement rippled across her sleek silver-black scales. “What in the Empire is this?”

The adviser accompanying her took the question to be genuine rather than rhetorical. “He is Flint Onyx, my Empress, youngest of the Outer Rim Onyx House and an unrecognized low caste.”

The Empress lifted one elegant brow ridge. “And the costume?”

Flint jumped to his feet atop the trunk and bowed low. “My Empress. I have taken this form because I cannot bite metal into pieces, I have not fathered any dragonlets, and my experience sadly lacks the conquering of planets.”

“You don’t sound of much use to an Empress, then.”

“Correct. To an ordinary Empress, I am of no use. But you are no ordinary Empress.”

She lifted the other brow, intrigued. “Oh?”

“The other suitors have suggested that you are lacking in strength, intelligence, or foresight, but you are an exceptional female. Therefore, I will not attempt to offer an asset you already possess.”

Her voice lowered dangerously. “What asset, then, do you offer?”

“Delight.”

“Delight?”

“I have spent the last five years on Earth gathering materials to delight your senses. After a long day of ruling with the strength, intelligence, and foresight you already possess, allow me to offer you a cozy lair filled with comfort to entice your cravings. It will refresh, intrigue, and delight you.” He rested a steady hand on his racing heart. “I vow it.”

“You make an interesting observation, Flint Onyx.” She cast a glance over her shoulder at the crowd of curious dragons listening in. “I thought that I alone heard the insults inflicted upon me today. Accusations of being weak, infertile, or an incompetent commander have filled my ears with boasts about how my problems require correction. But you heard them as well. Perhaps your background as a Scholar has trained you to see things even the highest caste has missed.”

A sharp hiss and unsettled mutterings rippled through the pavilion.

The adviser beside her puckered her thin lips as though she’d consumed poison.

Flint’s face warmed.

The Empress was incisive, and yet she maintained a slight smile, as though amused by the others’ discomfort. Her gaze refocused on Flint. “Your Earth materials are in the trunk? Show me.”

The adviser cleared her throat. “My Empress, he is a low caste.”

“And has yet to insult me.” The Empress’s tone sharpened like a jagged knife. “Unlike the many others who imply they are above my rank when they should know better.”

The adviser looked as though she’d swallowed poison again.

Flint hopped down to the ground, landing lightly, and cracked open his trunk. “My Empress, although any dragon will appreciate these delights, you will experience them most intensely if you also take human form.”

She abruptly transformed into a goddess.

Her long dragon limbs pulled into shapely legs and arms, her claws retracted into toes and fingers, and her scales sucked into her human skin. Black hair cascaded down her back and rolled across her shoulders. Silver chain and shimmering gemstone adorned her wrists, ankles, hair. She waited unselfconsciously, a statue with full breasts and fuller hips, proud and beautiful in any form, dragon or human.

His heart thudded in his chest.

He fitted her with a silk over-the-shoulder gown in metallic rose gold with draped bodice and ruffled skirt. Intricate, sparkling gemstones complemented the dress. “This is a small taste of what I have gathered for you.”

“Mm.” Her lips curved and her eyes sparkled with interest. “And what else?”

His heart kicked. “I can offer you a selection of tastes, scents, and delights such as you’ve never experienced. And once I know your preferences, I can shower you with your favorite treasures.”

He opened a small chest of jewelry.

She examined silver rings, shining moonstones, and curving palladium that referenced her house of origin. “You are clever. So careful to offer instead of order, invite instead of demand.”

“You are more than capable of ruling on your own. As a Scholar and a traveler, my only talent is to offer you the gifts of my study.”

She lowered her fingers to her hips. “There is one other thing I have heard about Earth. A specialty of theirs.”

“I have studied all the specialties extensively.”

“Mm.” She fixed him with a penetrating black-silver gaze. “Then you know all about it.”

“Of course.”

Her lips twitched. Even though she seemed younger, in this moment, as the most powerful female in the universe, she smiled as if she knew more mysteries of the Empire than he could fathom. “I will test your knowledge.”

He sucked in a breath. This was further than any of her other suitors had gotten. “I am ready.”

“The subject is reproduction.” Her irises glimmered with challenge. “Dragons couple in one position. A problem of navigating the tails. Humans do not have tails, and so they have developed more positions. How many, would you say? Ten or twenty?”

His throat went dry. “Hundreds.”

“So it is true? They apply their non-shifter recessiveness to other forms of creativity?”

“Yes.”

“And have you studied them? The positions.”

“Not all the positions,” he admitted, “but I have perused the online educational video repository PornHub and the associated pictographic magazines human males read only for the articles. Earth’s humans are an endless well of creativity in all things, including reproduction.”

She turned and cast a seductive gaze over her shoulder that made his stomach twist. “Come. Show me what you’ve learned.”

He followed the Empress.

Her human hips swayed as she wove between the towering dragon males, but she seemed utterly unafraid. Behind him, the Empress’s security team sealed his trunk, activated the hover, and pushed it after them.

They ascended the stage. The crowds roared in shock. Blood thumped in his ears.

He paused on the threshold to the Empress’s private exit.

Could he really do this?

She noticed his pause. Her lips curved. “If you ‘delight my senses’ such as ‘I’ve never experienced,’ then perhaps I will extend to you the opportunity to advise me in other matters as well. But be prepared. I have a high expectation for your performance.”

His heart lodged in his throat. “I will impress you.”

“Good. If you do not live up to the promise, I suppose I’ll have to rip your arms off.” She turned on her heel and strolled deeper into the private caverns.

His swallow sounded loud in the cave.

And so that was how a low-caste, no-name dragon temporarily got the chance to have a private audience with the Empress.

If he could satisfy her, then he would live.

Flint should have spent less time studying the strategy board and more time studying the educational videos…

Flint followed the Empress through the giant labyrinthine caverns of blue stone lit with red fire into her private chambers.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

Dragon-sized curved silver benches, tables carved from solid blocks of gemstone, and rotating holographs of the Empire’s planets adorned the open suite. The stark efficiency of the dragon aesthetic had banished any soft furnishings or human luxuries. Through one curved doorway, the bedchamber was carved into polished stone.

He swallowed.

Security rested his trunk of wonders at the doorway and, on the Empress’s signal, retreated from the chambers.

The Empress turned to Flint, waiting.

She had an open face and teasing readiness to smile, like she was waiting to hear the punchline of a joke. A heart-shaped face with soft, slightly iridescent black skin and dewy soft, kissable lips made his chest ache. She was so beautiful. A little older than him and so strong, so vital. She had made it to the highest level of society all on her own power.

The Empress tilted her head. “Are you stunned?”

He lifted a palm in surrender. “I need a moment to catch my breath.”

“You’re unwell?”

“It’s a human phrase, but it has never been so apt. You are so beautiful, you take my breath away.”

Her smile returned. She tugged at the dress. “It is strange being in this form, isn’t it? But if it impacts your breathing…”

She flicked out a claw and sliced down the middle of her silk gown, turning the shimmering metallic fabric into a robe and placing her nude feminine body on display.

“Better?”

His eyes filled with her black-silver skin, irises glimmering with a rich silver sheen; the soft bounce of silver streaks in her hair cascading over her lush hourglass figure. Full breasts topped with silver nipples, fuller hips with a dip that would be a perfect place to rest his hands, and shimmering dark curls at her feminine vee. The metallic fabric framed her body like a picture, and his brain short-circuited as the heat flowed lower to pool in his suddenly hard cock.

She tilted her head again. “No?”

“I…ah…was deciding the order in which to entertain you.” He turned abruptly and cracked open the trunk, staring at the inventory for several long seconds.

He had a plan to seduce the Empress.

A brilliant plan.

The only problem was that he couldn’t remember any of it.

Flint unfolded different compartments, spreading the trunk open to unveil wardrobes and freezers, cabinets and furnishings.

He pulled out the wine cooler, selected a sweet white, uncorked it with a practiced claw, and poured it into two glasses, talking as he turned. “This white was fermented on a small island in the rain shadow of…”

The Empress stood right behind him, her generous breasts almost brushing his bicep. “Oh?”

“…a, uh, city.” He handed her the glass and then, to disguise the shaking of the liquid in his own, he tapped her rim with his. “Humans do this in celebration while they say ‘cheers.’”

“Cheers.” She sipped the sweet wine, then licked her lush lips. “It is an unusual flavor. Humans drink this often?”

“When they wish to relax, but of course, dragons don’t feel any effects.”

“I can find it relaxing.” Her irises glowed. She drained the glass, then returned it to him with a small, knowing smile. “Next?”

“These squares are a small, rich morsel called chocolate. While there are hundreds of types, there are three main varieties: white, milk, and dark…”

She closed her eyes and accepted the chocolate. Her lips closed over the dark square.

Soft wetness and a hint of teeth teased his fingertips.

“Mm.”

Her throaty sound of approval made a little tug in his groin. Heat flow into his cock.

She opened her eyes. Her skin seemed to glow, and silver shimmered. “It’s delicious.”

“I…ah…have another…”

She stopped him by placing her index finger on his wrist. His dusting of dark hair contrasted with her smoothness. “I don’t need another taste of Earth food.”

The Empress stepped closer and tilted up her lips.

A wave of sensuality washed over him. His heart hammered in his chest.

“I want a taste of you.”

He breathed in her female scent, hard like the planet, fresh as the desert after a quenching rain. A distant but never forgotten memory of her like this stirred in his belly.

He sucked in a breath and committed, lowering his lips to cover hers.

She tasted like the wine’s sweetness and the chocolate’s richness, and as a male with a plan for everything, those two flavors slipped into his veins like fire and torched all his plans to ash. He was blank in her presence, existing in this moment. She was female and he was male, and there was no more.

She clung to his forearms and parted her lips with a soft murmur of acceptance.

He deepened the kiss, stroking her lips and teeth, plumbing the depths of her welcoming mouth. Her soft noises urged him on, to touch her sacred body, clench her, bury his cock in her feminine channel, claim her for all time.

Flint was a dragon with nothing to offer her but his mind, and in her presence, he lost even that.

The Empress broke the kiss first, leaving him bereft and aching with needful heat.

She licked her lips, her irises sparkling, and pulled him toward the carved sleeping den. “You’ve impressed me so far. And you do nothing by half measures. What other delights do you have for me in my bedchamber?”

Reality doused him like cold water.

He had no delights planned.

Correction. He had plenty of delights planned with meticulous detail, but the moment he yielded to her soft touch and sweet murmurs, he thought of nothing but himself. His wants, his hunger, his desire.

And she deserved so much more.

He stopped her. “Sheer rock isn’t comfortable in human form. Wait here.”

She released his forearms.

He unpacked and spread the fluffiest soft blankets and pillows across the carved chamber. She rested her shoulder against the outer wall, watching him with a knowing half smile. He puffed the last blanket, stood, and made a sweeping gesture for her to enter.

She lay across the satins, velours, and silks.

“Have you ever experienced such softness?” he asked.

She closed her eyes and shivered. “Never.”

Her nude body twisted to display rounded thighs, powerful calves, shapely feet. He hungered to skim his hands over her soft skin from her toes up to her hips and follow with kisses, and maybe even teeth.

He swallowed. Focus. “I have another gift just for you. Something that no dragon in the Empire has ever possessed.”

“Later.” She gestured for him to approach. “What is this?”

“Silk.” He dropped to his knees on the bed at a safe distance.

“Mm. It feels like a mystical substance.” She patted the bedding beside her. “Why don’t we have it in the Empire?”

“The treaty.” He eased onto one elbow, lying flat but keeping a mound of fluff between their bodies. “Silk is produced from a kind of worm on Earth. The treaty restricts us from overexporting Earth resources and causing them shortages. We must build growing facilities off-planet, and the worms require the correct conditions to spin the cocoon, which…”

She twirled locks of his dark hair between her fingers.

He broke off awkwardly. “I’m boring you with the mating habits of Earth worms.”

Her gaze traced down to his mouth again, and she smiled. “I was listening.”

“If it’s you, I’m never sure.”

“You always said that, but of all the Scholars who tutored me, I never found you boring, Flint.”

His name on her lips flushed heat into his cock.

And suddenly, they were back five years ago in her father’s house. She’d been a tempestuous female who pretended to need tutoring, and he’d been the slightly younger—but sure he was too mature for her—tutor who’d burned down his chances of advancement within the Scholars for heretical thinking. Their angry spark-fueled first meeting had mellowed into mutual respect and then deepened into something more heartfelt. Soul filled.

He’d asked why she, a smart dragon and heir to the Empire, settled for the small role her father had assigned her. Why not do something more important with her life?

A few stolen kisses, a few secret plans, and a few fiery promises had led to this moment. Five years later, they met once more in the Palace bedchambers. He was still a disgraced Scholar. But her?

“A lot has changed,” he murmured. “My Empress.”

“All according to your plan. And it’s Galena to you. Always Galena.”

“Galena,” he repeated.

She nuzzled him, and this time, he fully sank into her kiss.

Flint’s hot, sweet kisses enflamed Galena’s soul.

His soft timbre made her shiver. Their past stolen kisses had warmed her for five long years, and now he was here. She had summoned him. By doing everything he had said and much, much more.

She had changed her whole life because of his encouraging words. Committed crimes, challenged destiny, become a different dragon, all for this moment.

Lying between his bulging biceps, feeling her face framed by his powerful hands, his hard thighs brushing hers through the silk.

Now, she would receive her reward.

Galena tugged the silk down to entwine their legs.

Her bare skin brushed his.

He pulled back, a glazed look in his gorgeous gray eyes, his hair mussed and his lips damp. “Galena, you…”

She couldn’t contain her delight. “Me?”

“Yes, you…” He scrubbed his face and focused on her. “You are different.”

She was.

But so was he. More mature, more confident, and more contained.

Five years ago, he’d projected a defiant I-know-more-than-you-ever-will attitude, capped off with an infuriatingly cocky smile.

That daring had matured into a quieter, more intriguing self-confidence.

And she still fell utterly under his command.

Not an hour ago, he’d lounged among hundreds of rivals, completely at ease in his vulnerable human form. He hadn’t made any effort to stand out or place himself in her path. No, he’d hidden in the back, not worried at all about her finding him—which, he couldn’t know, but she’d started to worry that he’d ignored her invitation.

What would she have done?

The fear had seeped into her belly with cold, terrible weight—having to choose someone other than Flint, or how to make an excuse about how none of the suitors would do—when, thankfully, he’d caught her eye.

Everything was always on his terms, which was why she liked this view of him. Out of focus, a little unsteady, a slight tremble to his addictive voice. He hadn’t been affected by her before. She came alive with her power.

Galena leaned in to claim another kiss.

He turned his head, teasing her with a nuzzle, and returned to more sober topics. “How are you going to announce me? The other families won’t be happy you chose a low caste over an aristocrat.”

“You already gave me the answer. They insulted me. I’m already perfect.”

“It was a good line,” he admitted. “But a little flippant. Your security detail is sparse.”

“Let’s talk about that later.” She leaned to kiss him again.

“We have to talk now.” He stood, hopped over her, and landed on his bare feet. “Before your entourage arrives.”

“My chamber guard will stop them.”

“Will they? I only saw the head of security, and she could get called away.”

Galena lay on the fluffy blankets and stared at the ceiling.

He was right, of course. Flint was always right.

But her blood pinged. Tight arousal in her nipples and between her thighs demanded his attention. She’d waited five years for him! And the hard curve of his cock, outlined in profile as he paused to check whether anyone was waiting already in the outer halls, said he was ready too.

He glanced back at her. “Galena?”

She arched her back suggestively. “Yes?”

“Ah…” He swallowed hard and jerked his gaze away. “Where can we see the night sky?”

She sighed. “There’s a secret exit above us. I’ll show you.”

He waited.

She grumpily sat up, shook off the covers, and floated into the stalactites high overhead. A faint shadow darkened to reveal a tiny corridor leading out to a small cliff. She emerged on a sheltered terrace. Ancient sculptures of muscular nude human males with dragon heads framed the view. The roof rested on their crowns.

The terrace overlooked empty plains, away from the bustle of the main thoroughfare from the Palace to the port. To her right were once heavily occupied ice caves that had collapsed in a natural disaster long before she was born. Now, the wreckage glistened with sad beauty.

As it was nighttime, the sky had darkened to a vivid green streaked with flashes of color, like the inside of precious gemstone.

She rested her hand on a worn stone shoulder and tilted her head at Flint in what she hoped was a sexy, come-hither manner. “It’s a beautiful night to make love beneath the sky.”

His gaze traveled down her body with searing heat.

He licked his parted lips, then blinked and cleared his throat, deliberately stepping past her. “It will be even more beautiful after we’ve reordered the Empire.”

She tried to contain her groan. “You’re not going to make me wait that long!”

“It’s safer for you if we do.”

“Most dragons take many efforts to conceive.”

He lifted a brow. “Our union will be even sweeter after a slight delay.”

“How long is a slight delay?”

“Say…one or two nights. Just long enough for me consolidate my plan.”

Ooh. Of course he had a plan, and it was all to her benefit. “I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

His gaze dropped to her breasts and unfocused.

Heat washed in, and her nipples hardened. She needed his mouth on her, everywhere, not just on her throbbing lips. It took all her will not to grab him and wrap her legs around his trim torso, demand he love her under the glittering night.

“Right.” He turned away, and his voice sounded strangled. “Would you bring me a snack? I need to organize my thoughts.”

She tapped her bare hip against him. “Sure.”

He stepped out of her way. “Thank you, Galena.”

She disappeared into the tunnel, took the secret left, and dropped into her private chambers. Wine, glasses, and chocolates. Check.

Back at the private terrace, his sober gaze fell on her, and he frowned, familiar Scholar’s disapproval wrinkling his brow.

She lofted the wineglasses. “You want something else?”

“No, that is fine. Stand there a moment.” He removed a small silver needle and thread from his inner suit pocket and stitched her robe closed, his fingers ghost soft against her skin. After she was contained once more in her dress, he bit off the thread and neatened the cut. “There. Now I can think.”

Her heart thumped. “In comparison to the Earth humans, is my form unattractive?”

“It’s the opposite problem.”

“My form is too attractive?”

“Correct.” Dark and worldly, he held her gaze. “You are beautiful in any form, Galena, and I have studied human sexuality so intently these past years that I cannot stop thinking about how I will use those skills to worship you. When you are covered, the urges very slightly lessen to the point that I can soldier on.”

Her heart throbbed.

He’d never admitted weakness to her before. Never spoken openly of his desire. She’d pressed him for kisses and, after they’d separated, regretted not pushing for more.

All this time, had he wanted her as much as she’d wanted him?

She pushed a little, gently, savoring this new hope. “You could satisfy the urges, you know.”

“Once I yield to my desire for you, I will never be satisfied.”

“Oh, you don’t know—”

“I know.” He took the wine and glasses from her, poured, and handed a glass back to reset the conversation. “Focus.”

She sipped the sweet wine and munched on a square of milk chocolate. Creamy and rich. But the dark flavor’s wine-like tang and complexity had teased her tongue. Dark chocolate was superior.

Flint carried his glass to the edge of the terrace and stared out over the barren ice caves. The noise of the still-active grand amphitheater on the other side of the mountain was muted from here.

She studied him in the silence.

He had a long straight nose, a slight cleft in his otherwise sharp chin, and a young face and build—yet he came alive with energy when he was excited. His fascinating gray eyes that were too large for his face focused on the distance in an intense gaze, as if he saw beyond the veil of the world and watched the wisdom of the cosmos.

When his gaze fell on her, she bathed in starlight.

“You have done much in five years,” he said.

“But the next step is going to be so much harder. Since becoming Empress, it’s crazy how difficult it is to make any changes. Just to allow you onto the Palace grounds today, I nearly had to challenge the gate guards to teeth-to-claw combat. And do you know why I didn’t?”

“There was no point.”

“Yes, exactly! The rest of them would have been scared of me—more than they are already—and the head of the gate guards didn’t disobey because she wanted to defy me. She disobeyed because she literally could not think outside the narrow path she’d followed all her life.”

He tossed a small grin her way. “That’s why you’re going to be an exceptional Empress. Narrow thinking isn’t constrained to gate guards.”

Her chest warmed.

He’d complimented her for the second time. It was a significant day for tutor Flint and student Galena.

Flint snorted at a private joke.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing important. On the flight here, I promised my brother that if you selected me for your consort, I’d topple the aristocracy.”

“Which brother?”

“Mal.”

“Mm.” She selected a square of white chocolate and sat on the edge of the terrace beside where he was standing. She kicked her bare feet over the ledge. “You should have promised him something more challenging, like you were going to reverse aging, or end the Colony Wars.”

He slanted his gaze at her.

“Oh? You found the elixir of reverse aging on that no-name backwater planet?”

“Ending the Colony Wars is still on my agenda.”

“Mine too, but the last few weeks of ruling, Flint… The gate incident was only the latest frustration. Changing minds is going to be so much harder than I imagined. The Colonists are our dragons, and yet, the level of greed and entitlement we’ve levied against them… It’s not a natural force.”

Long ago, when dragons had been confined to Draconis and the Outer Rim, they’d gone through a series of overpopulation and mass starvation cycles. During the starvations, each important house had built grand Colony ships and sent excess dragons out into the depths of space, never to return. After improvements in replicator technology produced limitless food, and then advances in space travel allowed dragons to cross vast distances in mere days, they’d entered a period of great exploration—and discovered descendants of the original Colony ships thriving on a loosely connected string of planets.

At first, the Colonies had been welcomed back into the Empire, but within a few short years, fighting had erupted over their mineral wealth. Now, instead of sending excess dragons out to explore and enrich the Empire, they sent them to the front lines to die.

“That’s why you have to make ending the war your opponent’s idea,” Flint said. “Engineer conditions in the Empire so your opponents beg you to disengage.”

“You have a theory on how to do that?”

“It will take at least a decade. Maybe more.”

“Is it the same plan you shared with me before? Earth is at the edge of known space. You’ve lived there now, so you understand the conditions more.”

“It’s broadly the same.” He held up his hands to illustrate. “First, we encourage dragon companies to reproduce Earth’s best luxury products, such as coffee, silk, and so forth, off-planet so we can flood the Empire. As more dragons taste the exotic delights, demand in the Empire grows. Earth becomes an attractive destination for tourism. We subtly divert key businesses—specifically, spaceship manufacturing and related technologies—to near-Earth space. Then, as the final step, we divert the excess dragons from the Colonies to Earth, where they’re suddenly needed for a grand new project…”

“And then you have the jumping-off point for the next great age of exploration.” She swirled her wine. “Of course, I can’t order our military to withdraw from Colony space until I’ve established my military prowess. General Ragiosa won’t answer my coms, and I have good intelligence that she was so angry about my ascension, she threatened to challenge me to a death match herself. Helvine was her mentee.”

“You’ll convince General Ragiosa that you were the better choice.”

Flint’s certainty was so reassuring.

“If she ever answers, I will try. Because if I have no control over the military, then I might as well not rule.”

“What about your own house?”

“Aunt Realgar has helped a lot. She’s the council adviser for House Palladium.” Galena chewed on the white chocolate. Sweet, and utterly unlike the others, with an odd but enjoyable waxy taste. “Everyone knows I only became Empress by riding on Helvine’s wings to the final heir battle. Helvine was everyone’s choice. General Ragiosa’s, the Palace’s, my father’s…”

Flint turned to look down on her, resting his back against the statue. “You are the one who won.”

“In a way that I hope never to ‘win’ again.”

“Galena…”

“I know. But my mother had more heirs than any empress in history. Thirty-two! And we all had to battle it out, teeth-to-claw, for the winner to earn the throne.”

“The battle royale went fairly quickly.”

“Because so many of us paired up. It’s allowed by the tournament rules, and given that we all knew this day was coming, my half-sisters have planned alliances for longer than I’ve been alive. But I’ll never do it again.” She lifted her finger in warning. “I won’t pledge my loyalty, fight at one dragon’s side against thirty rivals, and then turn on her.”

“You had to,” Flint said. “At the end, you and Helvine had to fight to prove she was fit to rule the Empire. She lost.”

“But I’m sure she expected me to yield, not fight. And if she knew my plan, she wouldn’t have defended me so fiercely in the earlier battles.”

“Then she would have lost an earlier battle. No dragon can argue that you didn’t defend her, Galena. Your technique was perfect. She entered the final battle largely untouched. You did not ride her wings. You lifted her wings. That is why your intelligence and skill won.”

Her heart ached. No one agreed. Not even Galena.

“Tell me how to make my enemies share your view.” Galena selected another square of dark chocolate. “Ruling is the hardest puzzle, much harder than any you ever gave me. At times, I’m invigorated by the challenge. At other times, I’m well aware that I can’t trust my own house to fill in Palace security.” She chewed on the dark square. Mm, definitely superior. “I can’t even choose my official Empress name without doubts.”

His teeth flashed white again. “Empress Horribus had a certain ring.”

“Aunt Realgar suggested Aggressula.”

He snorted. “She was surprised by your win.”

“I think she was more shocked by my betrayal than Helvine, but she did calm down faster. That’s the sign of an experienced adviser.” Galena held up her fingers to tick off the names. “I have gone back through the family annals. Other standouts are Boilous, Detestial, and Malevola.”

“Your ancestors were a little bitter.”

“House Palladium has had a very checkered past. Helvine did military service, so hers was already selected. ‘Commander Incensia.’ I think it sounds kind of nice.” She laughed at herself. “Of all the things I could worry about, choosing my name has occupied too much of my time. And I still don’t like any of them.”

“So delay.”

“I have! The advisers are getting restless.”

“Who cares? Order them to call you ‘the Empress’ until it sticks. You are not one of many, you are The One. After you end the Colony Wars, it will be fitting.”

“That is very clever and also cocky.” She sucked in a breath. “Very well. As the Empress, what should be my first act of rule?”

“Announce me as your consort.”

“And?”

“Keep everything normal. Consolidate power, get General Ragiosa to acknowledge you, and begin hinting that Earth goods are the newest trend.”

“I don’t know, Flint. Is it really that easy? Maybe you should sit in on council meetings. A little guidance from a former tutor would be nice.”

He sipped his wine. “I’d be happy to, but you don’t need it.”

“If you say so.” She stared out on the wrecked ice caves. “Five years ago, you said that I could be here. And here I am.”

“That was all you.” He knelt to her level and linked their hands, his gray eyes certain. “Now, we journey together.”

Her heart swelled. She was happy. They were really going to change the Empire.

He squeezed her hand, released it, and stood.

She wasn’t quite ready to leave this quiet place. “What was your other gift? The one you mentioned in the bedchamber which only I in all the Empire would have?”

“Ah.” He twisted his lips to the side. “I’m not sure you’ll like it. It was a little…imprudent of me. But it reminded me of you.”

She hopped to her feet and followed him down the cliff. “Now I’m curious.”

“As you should be.” His teeth flashed white again, and he led her into the darkness to one of what she was sure, knowing their history, was the first of many surprises.

Inside the vast trunk, a small carrier held its own light source, small bowls filled with brown kernels and water, and a tray of sand. Nestled inside was a small furry creature, grayish brown, with black spots.

Flint opened the glass box and pulled out the furry ball. “This is a companion animal to Earth humans known as a house cat. Its breed is Bengal. It was originally crossbred from feral creatures.”

She opened her palms, and Flint nestled the ball there. Four legs and a tail slid out and dangled between her fingers, and sleepy gold eyes focused on her. Twin ears sat atop the furry head. It opened its mouth in a yawn that displayed long canines and sharp predatory teeth.

She stroked the soft fur. “Does it do anything?”

“She is still under sedation.”

The cat stretched in Galena’s hands, and she flipped it onto its back to cradle it. The ears went down flat against its head and the tail twitched almost like a baby dragonlet.

“But I believe you’ll soon see the answer is yes.”

Galena stroked the soft underbelly. The cat wiggled and grabbed her finger. She tickled it.

Sharp claws hooked onto her index finger, dragged it to the cat’s mouth, and in sank teeth.

Flint watched the youthful female cat wake up and take notice of Galena in the most catlike way possible—by biting her fiercely.

Galena’s brows shot up. Her mouth dropped in delight. “Look at this little fighter! She has quite a powerful bite.”

“Notice how she drags your arm in with her front paws while the back rakes your forearm in a killing blow. It is a predator-prey response.”

“Is that what she’s doing?” Galena lifted her arm, the cat fully attached and going crazy. “Aren’t you the cutest predator? What a noble girl. Yes, fight on, little warrior, fight on.” She crooned at the cat, still cradling it, while her scales shimmered under her vulnerable human skin, protecting her from the cat’s claws. “What’s your name? How shall I address you?”

“Ah, you will have to give her a name. Cats are not intelligent.”

She eyed him with the obvious intimation that he’d made a misstep. “There is clear intelligence in her eyes.”

“Yes.” He coughed and put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “You’re right. There is a slight intelligence, which—”

The cat jumped off Galena’s hands and seemed to elevate onto the wall, claws out, landing on a long fabric scroll.

Galena cut him off with a surprised squeal. “Does she fly?”

“No, but this breed is known for playfulness and verticality.”

“I love it.”

The cat, ears still flat on her back, jump-climbed the fabric, claws pilling fluff.

“Go on and jump on that fabric over there, small one.” Galena waved at a large fabric congratulating her on her coronation as Empress. “What do humans call her, again?”

“Humans call this creature a cat. They often use a name related to her breed, Bengal, or her age, older kitten, or a variation of a ‘cute’ nickname such as kitty, kittles, kit-kat, kitsa—”

“Kitty,” Galena said decisively.

The cat flew to the congratulatory scroll, which was woven from flimsier materials, and dragged long claw marks down the middle before abandoning it for the floor. She hunched her furred back and jogged sideways, energetic after the long sleep.

“Yes! She likes her name.” Galena scooped up the squirming cat and nuzzled her, shifting her dragon snout to become immune to the claw-stickers. “Don’t you? You destroyed that ‘All Hail Empress Aggressula’ scroll Aunt Realgar made for me just perfectly, didn’t you? We are going to get along fine.”

Galena released Kitty and clasped his forearm. “Thank you so much, Flint, for these Earth delights. I was afraid you might forget me.”

The swell of her lush breasts pressed against his bicep.

All his clever replies disappeared. He swallowed. “Never.”

“I’m so glad.” Her easy smile faded and her nostrils flared as though scenting his arousal. She licked her lips and tilted her head up to meet his kiss.

If he kissed her, he was lost.

Flint patted her hands. “You’re welcome.”

She blinked and lowered her chin, eyed him with impatience tempered with amusement, and scampered after her cat.

It gave him a badly needed respite.

As her consort, he needed to be her everything.

He had to intoxicate her with pleasure, addict her to his body, coerce her to respond only to him.

He’d made a whole plan about how to do it.

There was only one slight problem.

Galena.

The problem was Galena.

When he touched her, he couldn’t breathe. His chest ached. He couldn’t think.

You are beautiful. I want to treasure you. You are all that I want and all that I’ve ever wanted.

She made him lose himself.

Lose control, lose concentration, lose the intelligence that made him valuable.

He’d planned to make love to her this first night, but he didn’t dare.

Tomorrow. He’d be better able to control himself tomorrow.

* * *

The night was filled with activity.

Galena’s security guard, Linarite, startled them by letting the Adviser to the Palace enter the private chambers unannounced. The elderly dragon confirmed Galena’s choice of consort and planned the confirmation ceremony.

Then Galena lectured Linarite to keep visitors out of her chambers.

After Linarite left, Flint unfolded his strategy board. They chatted about unimportant things while he set out the pieces, sharing observations and the minutia that had passed in their lives. Kitty raged through the chambers with boundless energy, and Galena narrated as though every single motion was worthy of commentary.

This night was the first spent in a warm glow.

As Empress, Galena could awaken whenever she wanted, but they were both eager to complete the consort ceremony.

Back in the same amphitheater as before, Flint took dragon form beside Galena on the stage. His head barely crested her elbow.

In the empty lower area, a stone plinth commemorated their union. The audience tiers were filled with aristocrats from the most important houses arranged outward in order of importance. In one of the farthest tiers, his mother beamed, her red scales oiled and silver piercings polished, puffed with pride.

Small view screens broadcast the ceremony across the Empire in real time.

The Adviser to the Palace read the stone plinth. “On this day, Flint Onyx became the Empress’s consort. He was no longer low caste, but elevated to aristocrat.”

Galena pressed a small silver dart into his earlobe. A quick pin strike of pain made him blink, and then the piercing throbbed with heat.

The Adviser to the Palace handed Galena a ceremonial gem-crusted dagger.

Galena flew to the plinth, stuck a claw into the indentation by her name, and cut off the tip. The small chunk of nail sparkled in the stone, silver and black. She passed the dagger to Flint, and he repeated her action. The sharp knife cut through his hard, chitinous nail with a pop. He’d never trimmed his claws in dragon form. His index claw felt strangely rounded.

His chunk of matte gray mineral looked plain beside Galena’s sparkling black.

Legally, they were now united.

He left the dagger with the Adviser to the Palace. He and Galena flew together to the stage.

“All hail Consort Flint,” the Adviser to the Palace said.

Respectful silence filled the amphitheater.

The advisers flew to one side of the stage and passed before them, staring up with silent respect. Some advisers were so large with age—dragons never stopped growing until death—they tilted their heads to pretend to be looking up at him.

Flint lowered his chin so his gray eyes appeared wider. He would never earn their respect with his dull coloration or small size. He had to unsettle their expectations, even in dragon form, so they saw him as a force to be watched, if not reckoned with.

Galena fidgeted, flexing her front claws. She was nervous on his behalf.

The adviser who had followed closest to Galena at the consort-choosing ceremony now passed in front of them. She lifted her gaze to Galena with sureness.

Galena stopped her fidgeting and stood tall.

Aunt Realgar.

She was a large female with brittle red scales. A sibling of Galena’s father in House Palladium, her official name was Adviser Enmity.

Her respectful gaze moved to Flint. No animosity tinted her gaze, only curiosity. She was an accomplished, experienced adviser.

The confirmation ceremony ended.

Flint was an aristocrat.

Galena was whisked away to critical final meetings before the matriarchs of the most important houses departed for other sections of the Empire.

Flint returned to their private chambers and took a nap.

That night, Galena returned to the private chambers, shifted, and donned a gorgeous black silk robe with silver embroidered stars. She recounted the demands of the other matriarchs and how she intended to deal with their requests while she stroked Kitty.

Flint waited for a pause. “When will you reconvene the Palace court?”

She released the sticker-bush cat whose soft belly she’d been stroking—seemingly against Kitty’s will—and laughed at him. “Are you so eager to be hated?”

“I’m eager to observe the funnel by which dragons are shunted from the rest of the Empire to the front lines. Besides, you never know. Maybe I’ll make friends.”

“The Empress’s consort never makes friends when he’s passing judgment on the criminals of the Empire.” She sat beside him on the terrace and tapped her forehead to his. “Don’t anger too many on your first day. If the court is anything like the rest of the Palace, it will be an exercise in severe frustration. I have a tour of the newest Draconis warship afterward, and I can’t protect you from an armed mob.”

“I never lose control, no matter the temptation.”

“Oh?” She pulled back and gazed deeply into his eyes. “Flint. It’s tomorrow.”

His heart thudded hard in his chest. His mouth went dry.

When she looked at him like this, he was powerless against her.

Her gaze dropped down to his lips. She nuzzled him, soft and exploratory.

He let out his breath in a rush and covered her mouth with his.

She melted into his embrace with a sweet moan.

Dark heat flowed into his cock.

His tongue meshed with hers, twisting and tangling. He teased her plush lips with his teeth. Her breath caught. She turned to him with little moans of hunger.

And his mind went blank.

Heat, sensation, lust washed over him. He wanted to cup her soft, full breasts in his palms. Through the silk gauze, her nipples stood up in hard relief. He wanted to tease them under his thumbs and taste their silver darkness.

His cock pulsed with need.

He had to lift her dress and bury himself deep within her.

Flint pushed her down to the hard stone.

She made an “oof” from his roughness and then giggled.

But he wasn’t supposed to be rough.

He was supposed to follow a plan.

Flint jerked back.

She panted.

The sweet glazed look in her eye and the plump dampness of her lips tore at his fragile control.

But he resisted.

If he took her now, he’d be fumbling, out of control, mindless.

She deserved better.

Galena stroked his hard cheek. “Why are you stopping?”

“Today has been long and difficult. Perhaps…tomorrow…”

“Flint.” She wiped her mouth and pouted. “You are my consort, chosen from among all the males of the Empire to sire our dragonlets. Do you want me to beg?”

No.

He could not stand against her if she begged.

His mind took dangerously long to settle on a solution. “I want to enjoy every step slowly. The more we prolong the foreplay, the sweeter our final union will taste.”

“I also like savory flavors.”

“Sweet in this case is better. Besides, I haven’t finished showing you the wonders of Earth.”

She pushed out her lips. “You said that you brought enough to delight me for weeks.”

“And here is one such wonder.” He flew over to the trunk and opened a compartment lined with paper books. “A historical artifact of information sharing. Pressed pulp!”

Her brows lifted and her eyes narrowed with skepticism, but she perused the hardbacks, removed them from the shelf, and stroked the creamy printed pages.

He stumbled back to his strategy board, staring at the pieces until they blurred.

He had to conquer the mind fog. Galena deserved perfection. Anything less was a failure.

She might even wonder why she had ever cared about him. Five years was a long time to cling to a fantasy. He was no longer a tutor, and she was certainly no student.

The other males at the consort selection ceremony would already have claimed her. They would have taken her without hesitation, with vigor and virility. She had to be thinking about what she’d given up to choose him instead.

Flint was small but smart. He had to use his intelligence to please her.

If his seduction failed because the moment they kissed, he lost his mind, then what good was he?

He just had to take it slow and keep her mind off sex until he figured a failureproof method to conquer his—

“Flint!” She held out a large book titled Kama Sutra. “I just found the human study materials!”

The next week, Flint strode—in a nice gray suit with Chinese collar and black loafers—into the Pavilion of Justice.

The court convened in a stone amphitheater with an enclosed ceiling to prevent criminal dragons from escaping.

Flint had become accustomed to being the only dragon on Palace grounds in human form, but the accused jostled and roared in the judgment pens, a mass of dirt-smeared human-form dragons shackled in shift-proof cuffs. The aristocrats who argued their fates lounged in dragon form in the audience tier. The highest ranked would go first.

That suited him fine.

Flint flew up to the judge’s ledge, unfolded an aluminum outdoor chair, and sat with one ankle crossed over his knee.

No one noticed his entry. The hall echoed with noise.

He perused the complaints on his portable view screen.

All he would do today was observe.

The dragon adviser who oversaw the Pavilion of Justice was an opaque, whitish male named Baryte. He suddenly noticed Flint and squinted. “What are you doing there? Are you going to observe justice in that disrespectful form?”

“I am.” Flint’s clear voice rang out over the pavilion. “And we have a lot to review, so in the future, I want to start on time.”

Baryte harrumphed. “I didn’t see you there. Small, skinny thing.” He squinted at his view screen and read the first case aloud. “Greywacke of House Adamantine. Bring your accused into the condemnation gate.”

Greywacke, a slender aristocrat with wiry limbs and a droopy neck, sighed. “Must we go through this every time?”

“Traditions matter.”

Greywacke motioned the low-caste, human-form dragons forward. They trudged, silent but grimacing. For most of them, it was their first time in the Palace if not their first time on Draconis. And it was also most likely the worst day of their lives when they were sentenced to death in the Colonies.

“Here they are,” Greywacke said, bored. “Fifty head.”

“Another fifty? Your estate positively seethes with rebellious dross. Very well, load them into the Colony-bound pen.”

“Can I retrieve my shackles? I have barely any left. I’m losing them here so fast.”

“Yes, speak with the overseer.” He swiped the case on the view screen. “Next.”

Wait.

That was it?

Flint cleared his throat. Because of his position and the acoustics, the noise boomed over the pavilion. “Adviser Baryte. Perhaps you’ve forgotten in the years since Empress Horribus had a consort. I haven’t given my judgment.”

“Ah… We don’t bother to do that anymore.”

“You said yourself.” He grinned with his teeth. “Traditions matter.”

“Yes, ah, well, you see… Most of her consorts weren’t the intellectual type…”

“As I’m a Scholar, that is no issue for me.” Flint leaned forward and motioned to Greywacke. “Make your case.”

Greywacke looked askance at Adviser Baryte. “Is this really necessary?”

Adviser Baryte shrugged.

Flint smiled more broadly. “If you’re unable to come up with a reason for sentencing these dragons, come back tomorrow.”

Greywacke huffed. “It’s a ceremonial trial. These males are low caste, unnecessary, and useless. Many are too old to accomplish the labor, and some are injured.”

“And yet that is not illegal.”

The entire amphitheater dropped silent.

Greywacke frowned. “You pay fifty coin a head, and here are your heads. What else do you need to know?”

“What laws have these dragons broken that require a sentence of exile or death in service to the Empire?”

“I just told you. The Palace always takes our old dragons. You need them. We provide.”

“Under what law?”

“But… I don’t know, but you always took them before.”

Flint had assumed he would hear a flimsy reason for this exchange. But no reason? Literally no reason for sentencing so-called dissenters, who, from here, only had the bad luck to survive crushing conditions to infirmity or old age? No, he couldn’t let them be sentenced to certain death in front of him. Not for no reason.

“Tomorrow, be better prepared.” Flint cast his gaze over the still, shocked faces of the dragons under judgment. “I’m sure you can find some law they’re breaking if you search hard enough.”

“But I shouldn’t have to,” Greywacke protested.

Flint lifted both brows at him. “Why is that, Greywacke? Does having to make a slight amount of effort leave you feeling tired? Should we clip you to the back of the rest of the tired dragons from your estate?”

Greywacke straightened, his long tail twitching. “I never had to do this before! Only a stupid low caste flexing his single piercing comes in and messes everything up. You should be down in the judgment pens. See if you aren’t!” He stormed to the back of the amphitheater.

His shocked charges didn’t seem to grasp their punishment had been delayed another night. He growled for them. They trudged out.

Flint reviewed the docket. So much for not intervening. “Is anyone prepared to make a legal argument today?”

A small red-brown female floated forward. “Me.”

“Cinnabar Corundum.” Adviser Baryte flipped to her case on the docket, easily falling into the pattern of official tradition. “Make your legal case.”

“As you know, my noble House Corundum produces spaceships with only the highest rank of aristocrats overseeing the labor, as is proper.” She nodded at Flint’s small silver piercing, as if the lifetime he’d spent as a low caste no longer existed. “Our rival, the excrementitious Space Voyages Inc., not only promotes low-caste dragons to all levels of production, they also dare to overshadow us with faster production. Censure them so they no longer have these advantages.”

“Why?” he asked flatly.

“Because it’s not right. We are aristocrats. We should be the first in everything.”

Was she not even going to pretend to have an argument?

“I will not censure any business at the request of another house. That way lies madness.”

“No, it doesn’t!”

“What happens when another house asks me to slow your production?”

“Obviously, you’d refuse because that wouldn’t be fair.”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“But Space Voyages Inc. elevates low-caste dragons. So…” She looked at him expectantly.

“So do the same and gain market advantage.”

“That is not their only advantage,” she protested. “The other houses prefer to use them because they do not ally with any one family. Working outside of the houses, they flout the rightful rule of aristocrats.”

“So what?”

“So you must force them to become subservient to one house. Preferably ours.”

“Under what law?”

She huffed. “The law of what is obviously correct!”

“Give me a lawful fact,” Flint snapped back. “Or I will dismiss your case.”

She conferenced with another dragon and returned almost immediately. She was more prepared than most. “You asked for a lawful fact. I have just learned, to my horror, that Space Voyages Inc. has broken sumptuary laws. They allowed their low castes to possess this!”

She pinched a small paper card between her claws.

Flint tried to suppress his laugh. “The collectible art cards my sister-in-law included in Onyx Corporation and Carnelian Clothier exports do not violate sumptuary laws.”

“Hmm?” She flipped the card to face herself. “This is no ‘art card.’ This is an outrage!”

He’d assumed the card was one of Cheryl’s line drawings of a cute dragon wearing a bathrobe or dress. Earlier this year, her small cards had exploded sales, first for Carnelian Clothiers, and then for the Onyx Corporation, exposing that the “always utilitarian, function-over-form” Dragon Empire was hungry for beauty and art. Even dragons who hadn’t wanted to shift into human form to wear the clothing still paid to own the cards.

A security guard flew the card to Flint.

It was a square marked with irregular patterns of squiggles, swirls, and lines. This mindful doodle was known on Earth as a Zentangle.

Hm. This was a bigger problem.

On his command, the guard returned the card to Cinnabar. Flint turned to Adviser Baryte. “Have there been any laws written about the possession of paper cards with squiggles?”

“No, Consort Flint.”

He focused on Cinnabar. “There is no law against possessing a marked paper card. Your judgment is denied.”

Her throat glowed. Smoke curled from her nostrils, and she puffed her chest. “This is no mere paper card, Consort!”

“It is clearly a paper card.”

“It is an amateurish, low-caste rendering of an aristocrat’s crest! Which low castes are forbidden to possess!”

Sumptuary laws forbid low-caste dragons from doing a variety of things aristocrats could do. Entering the Palace grounds, landing on Draconis for business, possessing an aristocratic crest, wearing silver piercings—in dragon form. Only dragon form was noble.

Anything intended for human form was ignored. That was why his siblings had successfully imported human-form clothing for so long.

During the summer, his siblings had pushed this very issue by offering Zentangle workshops to teach dragons how to become creative. Some didn’t believe it could be done, when in reality, the question should have been “how to become creative once more,” because historically, dragons were quite creative.

So Flint was well aware of all the businesses to which his brother Pyro’s wife had taught the workshop, and he’d intended to use it to further his ultimate plans—but not before everything else was in place, and not on his first day.

“Denied. Next?”

Cinnabar blew a puff of flame. The paper card lit on fire. “You will not deny me!”

“It is clearly a paper card,” he said. “You’ve just burned your evidence. Come back with a better argument, and I will reconsider your case. Security?”

The two females stationed at the largest exits floated forward, long gold staffs in their clawed hands. Electricity crackled at one end like a prod.

Cinnabar glared at Flint, her eyes flashing with speckles of red and brown. “You will regret dismissing me, male. I was only going to request you censure Space Voyages Inc. Now, because of your treatment, I will destroy them!”

She soared out the exit.

The noise levels rose first with relief and then with interest. The usual observers had never seen anything like these two cases before, and the upper tiers looked eager to see what Flint would do next.

“Is there anything else on the docket?” he asked.

Adviser Baryte squinted. “Yes, quite a few.”

“Do any have a new argument to make?”

Adviser Baryte looked out over the waiting aristocrats and representatives. No one spoke. They had expected an easy day of snap judgments. No one had prepared a new argument.

“Then, we are finished for the day. We can retire.” Adviser Baryte rose and stretched, arching his massive old dragon back and shaking his neck. “I can’t remember the last time we finished early. Must be the youth in you. Very well, then, I expect you energetic tomorrow.” He frowned at the suit. “And perhaps in a more appropriate form.”

“Noted.” Flint folded up his chair, tucked it under his arm, and hopped off his ledge. Dragons parted out of his way allowing him to exit the pavilion.

Honestly, he was having a good time.

But there was a high chance intervening today had interfered with Galena’s work. He had a few hours until Galena found out what he’d done. He would use the time to plan his next seduction so that when she demanded to know what he was thinking, he could woo her the way she deserved to be worshipped. And then she’d be glad she selected him. She might even, someday, wish he was more than her consort. She might claim him for her one and only mate.

Ruling over the advisers had always taken much of her mother’s patience, or so Galena had heard, and now she got to experience that herself, while also on pins.

Because she needed the advisers, but she needed them to think that she didn’t. She had to act innocent while also pretending she knew more than she did. It was all so complicated, and she felt like she was doing it wrong, all of it. At least she was no longer alone. She had Flint, and they would never do anything without the other’s approval.

The Adviser of the Palace droned on about the cost of replacing fixtures in the halls from duels and fights, and how they should increase the annual allocation because cracked stone led to loose walls.

“So then,” the adviser scratched her brow ridge with a raspy hiss, gaze still fixed on her view screen, “the only question is whether to increase the allocation by shifting coin from the Colony War Restoration Fee, like we used last time, or another line item, such as—”

“Let’s do that,” Galena interrupted.

“Very well.” The adviser deliberately turned to another view screen and clawed through lines and lines of budget. “Did you want to remove it from the char-scraping fund or the replacement block sourcing fund? Those are currently being paid out to House Adamantine and House Palladium respectively on a multidecade contract.”

The adviser from House Adamantine, a pale blue female, raised a claw and spoke without looking up. “We are already giving the Palace an incredible bargain on char scraping, and you have delayed payment multiple times. Another delay and we’re contractually required to renegotiate. We can never give you this bargain again.”

The six assistants behind her nodded importantly, and one dragon looked poised to leap forward with a contract and go line by line if needed.

Galena felt her brain leaking out her ears.

Please. Someone try to kill me. Challenge me to duel to the death. Right now.

Everyone waited respectfully for her response.

“Um.” Galena turned. “House Palladium? Do you have an opinion on block sourcing?”

Her aunt cleared her throat. “Perhaps, before deciding on any small line item, we should solve the outstanding issues of ruling? Such as establishment of control over the military?”

“Great. I love it.”

“I’m so glad you approve, Empress Aggressula.”

No.

“Actually…” Galena arched her back. “I haven’t decided on my name.”

Disgruntled mutters swept through the assembled group of core advisers.

Adviser Pyropissite, an earthy brown male with a broad jaw and gruff growl, demanded, “Then what will we call you?”

“The same thing you’ve called me up until now.”

Her aunt interrupted. “Empress Aggressula—”

“No, Aunt—Adviser Enmity, that is.” Galena released a short breath. She did not want to look like a complete dragonlet in front of these much older, more experienced dragons, but she also absolutely could not let any of them push her around, even her otherwise supportive aunt. “Thank you for your opinion. I value your advice in all matters of state.”

Her aunt lowered her head, her eyes so darkly red, they were almost black. “You will become used to the name the more you use it.”

“But I won’t have the chance. That lovely scroll you gifted me was already destroyed, and it got me to thinking about Palace decorations.”

“Other empresses arrived with a name,” Pyropissite groused.

“Just think of the Palace budget. Say we ordered everything in one name, and then I took on another?”

“But, my Empress—”

“Think of the expense! So many expenses, I’d have to institute a new tithe, or gut the restoration budget.”

More mutterings.

“How easy and cheap it is to continue as you are now. Just lop off my mother’s name and you’re done. You don’t even have to commission new signs.”

The Adviser of the Palace nodded slowly. “Ah, my Empress, yes, that would save coin.”

Coin always won over a dedicated segment of the advisers.

Her aunt lowered her head. “Don’t wait too long. If you do not select your name, someone else will, and you might dislike the moniker the mudrocks choose for you.”

“Well considered. Next order of business.”

Idocrase, the adviser in charge of the Gentleman’s Society, a male with yellow scales oiled to a heavy sheen, extended his claws. “Empress. You must order your consort to stop walking around in human form. He is a small, weak dragon that any male could easily defeat, but hiding inside a human skin is improper, undragon-like behavior.”

Galena stared at him for a long, respectful moment, then turned her gaze upward—first, to avoid accidentally calling on any other advisers for their opinions, because they surely had them, and second, to figure out what, exactly, to say.

This was an obvious and inevitable complaint. She should have planned her answer with Flint.

He had his reasons for taking human form.

He had his reasons for everything.

And yes, he was a small dragon, but he was her consort. He couldn’t be anyone’s target. Who would dare to challenge him? Her Flint? Would any dragon really dare to hurt him?

Flames crackled in her belly, suddenly white-hot.

She sucked in a deep breath and released it. Smoke curled from her nostrils in a dark warning. She snorted them away. Galena hadn’t unleashed flames in an adviser meeting yet, and she was not going to do it about this matter either.

“Empress.” Adviser Idocrase cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Do you have no answer?”

She refocused on him and made her tone icy. “Is this really an outstanding issue of ruling?”

His scales darkened, and he coughed. “He is your consort. Males of the Empire look on and judge.”

“Flint is a Scholar. Scholars are different.”

“But—”

“Dragons shift into human form. It’s natural. And in some careers, it’s required.”

“But he is deliberately hiding his small size by taking human form. That is cowardice.”

She stared at him for a long, long moment.

His scales darkened again, and he fidgeted, but he did not retract his question.

“Adviser Idocrase, if you think it takes less courage to walk around a Palace full of dragons in human form, take human form yourself.”

He harrumphed. “I would never lower my noble form by looking like a weak human!”

Galena shifted her giant dragon claws to small human hands and wiggled her fingers at him. “I assure you that when I take human form—which I do, quite often, because it’s a delightful and sensual experience—that I do not fear for a single moment I am weak. And any who mistake my form for weakness will regret it.”

She flexed back to claws and dug them into the floor, gouging the stone with sparks and hot shards.

The male advisers jumped. The female advisers stilled in respect.

The only exception was the Adviser to the Palace, who sighed and marked the damage on her growing list.

Galena retracted her claws. “My apologies, Adviser to the Palace. I only wished to illustrate how swiftly a dragon can shift.”

Adviser Idocrase pushed again. “But Flint must represent the pinnacle of propriety.”

“Very well, Adviser. If you amuse me by taking human form, I will amuse you by speaking to Flint.” She grinned with her fangs. “No promises that anything will change, of course. I quite like his human form.”

“It’s not for amusement! It affects the morals of the Empire!”

“Well, forcing him into dragon form affects my satisfaction in my bedchambers.”

“Satisfaction? That little dragon—”

“Just because a male appears small in one form does not mean he is small in another.” She let that sink in.

Adviser Idocrase turned nearly orange and sputtered incoherently.

“But enough about being too fearful to assume human form in the Palace.” Galena dismissed him. “Next order of business.”

“Too fearful!” he choked. “My Empress, I assure you—”

“Perhaps,” Aunt Realgar interrupted smoothly, “you should try another call to General Ragiosa. Record her official approval so it will be easy to rebuild the Palace as the pinnacle of imperial authority.”

“Yes, thank you Adviser Enmity.” Galena called General Ragiosa’s warship, which was currently stationed along with the rest of the fleet near the Colonies. She prepared the main view screen.

Ugh. She should have cut off Adviser Idocrase herself.

In her father’s lair, she hadn’t been invited into his business meetings. Now, she had to learn everything while under watch.

The call ended. General Ragiosa never answered.

Advisers muttered. Another call rejected, another decision delayed.

“Will Ragiosa mutiny?” someone muttered, and it was not the first time Galena had heard that question. “Will the military revolt against the Empress?”

“Empress?” Her aunt focused attention on Galena. “Are you not upset that General Ragiosa has refused your communication? Again?”

“Not at all.”

If General Ragiosa mutinied, Galena had Flint.

She’d gotten this far on her own. The jangling excitement before the first, second, and third heir battles beside Helvine had squeezed Galena’s chest until she’d feared she would die before leaping into battle. And then when she’d turned on Helvine…and again when she’d thought Flint might not have come to the consort engagement … yes, those had been nerve-racking moments.

Finding out whether the military would attempt a coup was nothing.

It was even slightly annoying. Nothing would get done today.

“Not at all?” her aunt repeated Galena’s answer.

“Yes.” Galena nodded to her aunt for the easy question. “General Ragiosa is singlehandedly holding off the horde of the Colonies that once burned the right tower of the Palace. If her attention is required between my social call and defending the Empire, I prefer a strong defense. My social call can wait.”

A slight divot of a frown marred her aunt’s forehead. “Of course… Perhaps we could send her additional resources to lighten her load? She could then do her basic duty and acknowledge your rule.”

“Sure, that sounds sensible.”

The adviser to House Adamantine perked up. “New troops are always useful. They, of course, will need weapons and transport.”

“General Ragiosa needs more qualified officers to relieve her,” Pyropissite argued back. “House Zeolite has several highly capable female officers. The Palace should purchase more warships to increase officer positions.”

“My daughter is highly placed as well,” the dense, pale jade female, Adviser Nepharia to House Corundum, interjected. “And our transport ships are superior to anyone else’s because all our spaceships are built by aristocrats.”

The advisers argued over what to send—and therefore who would divert the most money into their coffers—until Galena felt distinctly hot and bored. And that was with only representatives from four of the five houses. The fifth representative was late being selected because of a recent matriarch change in their house.

She finally stretched and snapped her fangs together with a click. “We’ll do one of each.”

The advisers all quieted.

“One of each?” her aunt queried. “What does that mean, one of each?”

“We’ll send new troops with weapons from House Adamantine in a ship from House Corundum, and then we’ll find commissions for the worthy daughters of House Zeolite and House Palladium. Will that suffice?”

“It sounds a bit expensive…”

If the expense was the only problem, Galena had loads of meetings ahead where someone would argue over every detail. “So long as we’re done here.”

“Wait, now, that’s not fair,” Pyropissite grumbled.

Adviser Nepharia of House Corundum agreed. “A warship commission is worth much more than a single transport spaceship, and my daughter needs elevation.”

“As does mine! It’s not fair!” others dropped in.

Galena’s back creaked. By now, the Pavilion of Judgment would have closed. She was hungry. Not just for food.

She stood and stretched. Pop! Ahhh. That was what she needed.

And she needed to shift into human form, lie out on her silk sheets, and relax with Flint’s hands on her. He’d recently introduced her to the art of massage, promising it was even more orgasmic than sex. Although she had yet to experience an orgasm, the firm movements of his large, sure hands on her body had made her tingle with relief. She wanted more.

“You’re right,” she shouted over the frenzied grumblings. “It’s not fair. I haven’t thought of anything to benefit our absent friends at House Ironstone.”

The advisers all stopped, jaws agape.

“Forget everything. We’ll continue after the new adviser for Ironstone is sworn in.”

The advisers all stood and roared over each other for her to wait, reconsider, and that actually, it wasn’t so bad after all…

She paused at the cavern doorway for effect. “Oh? Should we move forward despite the inherent unfairness?”

Her aunt answered smoothly, “I’m sure that is best. General Ragiosa can’t ignore you after your generous gift. Everything will soon be resolved appropriately.”

“Excellent. We’re done.”

The Adviser to the Palace cleared her throat. “My Empress, we haven’t finished the business of the Palace.”

“Another time.” She turned her back on the protests and exited.

Her aunt swooped out of the room and landed beside her so that they ambled companionably through the ancient, hallowed, and occasionally weapon-marked walls. “You can’t keep putting off the military. You’re Empress now. You must rule.”

“I’m not going to fly to General Ragiosa and force her to recognize me. What else is there to do?”

Her aunt tipped her head. “You wouldn’t be the first Empress to challenge the head of the military to teeth-to-claw combat.”

“I’d rather not. It doesn’t put me in a strong position.”

“You should have taken military service. Then the other dragons would have known your interest in ruling and the end wouldn’t have come as such a surprise.”

“My father was against it.”

Her aunt stopped at the juncture where their paths diverged and made a sympathetic noise. “I suppose we must all make our own destinies.”

Galena returned her smile. It was nice to be understood.

Aunt Realgar frowned and sounded hesitant. “About the scroll and your name…”

“Yes, I’m so very sorry. Your lovely gesture was destroyed by my pet.”

Her aunt blinked. “Your…pet?”

“Kitty. She’s quite destructive.”

“I…I don’t understand.”

“Oh, yes. Pets. Owning a small creature. It’s an Earth practice, but I must admit, she gives me so much amusement.”

“Hm. Empress…. It’s not my place to criticize, but you’ve become a little obsessed over the backwater planet. It doesn’t reflect well on your authority as the leader of Draconis.”

Galena laughed. “Out of all the things that don’t reflect well, I highly doubt owning a cat is one of them.”

“Your staff have opinions…”

“They are welcome to them.”

“But you see—”

“Empress!” Adviser Idocrase hustled to them and barely dipped his neck to her aunt for the interruption. “Empress, I’ve just received word that your consort—your consort!—was seen conducting judgments on your behalf in the Pavilion of Justice in human form. Now, even you must admit this is highly improper and not to be tolerated!”

“Adviser Idocrase,” Galena drawled, “I recall telling you only a short time ago that I would not entertain your complaint until you had taken human form in the Palace. You must now take human form for a week.”

“But Empress!”

“And every time you bring it up to me, I will require another week before I acknowledge you.” She showed her fangs in a sharp smile. “Consider this an opportunity to update your wardrobe.”

He puffed out his chest and drew back his head as far as it would go on his long neck. “Now I see how little you value the morals of the Empire!”

“Maybe three weeks would be an appropriate period,” Galena mused.

“Oh, Idocrase, the new Empress is so tolerant,” Aunt Realgar said. “You know the first time a male interrupted Empress Horribus, she would have bitten his eyes out.”

Idocrase deflated like a yellow balloon, shivered, and managed one more indignant harrumph before storming away.

Aunt Realgar watched him, then lowered her voice to Galena. “He’s not wrong, though I hate it when they get so self-righteous. Well, I just wanted to say that…”

She trailed away as the Adviser to the Palace hurried over. The placid elder was also in an unusual state. “Excuse me for interrupting Adviser Enmity, Empress. I had just started to draw up the preliminary budget projections for your proposal to send troops to General Ragiosa when I heard that your consort stopped taking dragons for soldiers. All the houses that brought theirs in were turned away, and he wouldn’t take a one. If you’re going to send new troops now, you’re going to have to talk to him. And all the advisers are queueing behind me to register a complaint. I know a shortcut.”

As warned, the whole crowd of advisers hurried down the main hall toward them. “Empress? Empress!”

Aunt Realgar regarded Galena with raised brows. “Perhaps now is the time to reconsider your obsession with Earth?”

Galena’s stomach dropped.

Flint’s first day on the job, and he’d caused an uproar.

And she’d made it worse.

How could this have happened? Had she misunderstood?

Galena faced the raging advisers head-on.

How could she fix this without pushing them further off-plan?

Galena had too much to do to fly straight to her chambers and confront Flint.

After escaping the outraged advisers, she had a tour of the newest local warship and a deep review of Draconis defenses with local commanders.

Flint knew her schedule. He’d used their last days together not showering her body with the skills learned from that educational Earth website, PornHub, but by meticulously outlining an aggressive approach to establish her rule.

So, she couldn’t have gone off-plan.

Her surprise and confusion must have been something he’d kept secret for the greater good.

That calmed her enough to focus on the dragons at hand. She continued with the original plan to leave him unsupervised at the Palace while she spent several nights getting a crash course in the military knowledge that Helvine and the others had acquired long before the heir battles.

The days were long and exhausting. Whatever thoughts the commanders held about her ascension, they kept a competent veneer in her presence that was reassuring.

When she finally returned to the Palace, she skipped a budget briefing and a stack of adviser complaints and flew to her chambers, ignored the new security dragons stationed just outside, and flew around the empty rooms.

Neither her consort nor her cat were present in her chambers.

She flew out to her private gardens, then shifted to human and ducked up the secret passage to their terrace.

Nothing.

Vibrating with worry and anger, Galena made a second tour. Flint had suggested confining Kitty for two weeks, and security was supposed to stop her from escaping in the obvious ways. A few kibbles were scattered around the food dish and hairs by the freshly puddled water. Kitty had to be near.

Galena again flew up the secret chamber, more carefully this time, and found a second branch in the darkness. She followed it out to an upper entrance above the secret terrace onto the roof.

Kitty lay curled up on one of the top columns in a furry ball.

Flint sat cross-legged, eyes closed, mouth moving.

Her heart lurched.

He was okay.

The small creature yawned and stretched, slowly coming awake. Galena patted the soft fur. Kitty stretched and stared out on the severe landscape.

Galena gazed out as well.

Before, she’d only considered its beauty and her responsibilities. But now she knew the vulnerabilities and strengths. How the Colonists had once breached their outer defenses to reach the Palace, and her planet’s precariousness if a strong enough enemy swarmed.

“How was your trip?” Flint asked, still facing away. “Educational?”

“Very.” She floated, nude, to the tile behind him. “How did you know I was here?”

“I detected your scent.” A smile curved his lips. “Welcome home.”

She knelt behind him and rested her arms around his shoulders. His hard biceps were encased in the soft gray fabric, and it teased her skin.

Her nipples brushed the softness, and arousal contracted her skin with tingles. The slide of his suit weave was different from silk, yet still sensuous. And he smelled all male, like musk and briskness, bracing wind and rough gravel.

She pressed her lips to the point of his jaw.

He sucked in a breath and let it out in a sensual hiss.

She shifted her index finger to a sharp claw and rested it against his collar to split the fabric and bare his skin to her hungry kisses.

He caught her claw. Gray scales flashed protectively across his fingers. “Wait.”

She shifted back, hooked her now-human finger in the fabric, and tugged. “I’ve waited too long already.”

He pulled her around and onto his lap, and she spilled willingly, an elbow resting on his knee. He blinked in surprise at her nudity.

She pouted. “Didn’t you miss me?”

“Of course.” His voice sounded rough.

“Good.” She cupped her bare breasts, teasing the tight silver nipples, and watching for the precise moment his sharp gaze fogged. “I need you so much.”

“My advice?”

She lifted her lips to his. “Your everything.”

He bestowed his kiss, nibbling her lips and tasting her mouth.

Heat streaked to her throbbing center.

They had been separated for days, he’d put her off for weeks, and he was her consort. Whether or not this was his plan, she needed him to claim her, bare himself as she bared herself, unite their bodies and their souls for all time.

She arched her back until her breasts brushed his wrists.

His palms lowered and cupped her needy flesh.

She moaned.

His breath quickened. She loved affecting him. Loved even more knowing that she could.

He pinched her nipples, rolled them between his fingers, roughly sensitizing her to every sensation. Pleasure lanced her. She ached for him.

He slowed and broke from her mouth.

“More,” she begged.

His breath hitched.

“Please.”

He kissed down her neck, collarbone, to her breast, and took one hard bead into his hot mouth. Pleasure surged. It felt like a line of electric strings connected her tight nipples to her tighter pussy. Damp need flooded her.

He suckled her like he would never get enough.

His hand smoothed over her rounded belly to the divot between her thighs. Yes. She clamped his hand. There. More. She almost sobbed.

He dragged his head away suddenly, gasping for air as if he’d circumnavigated the planet.

She chased his mouth, demanding his love.

He turned away, refusing.

She reluctantly lay back, fighting her disappointment. “Don’t stop.”

Flint’s throat apple bobbed, and he swallowed hard. “The longer we wait, the more intense our final union will be.”

“It’s intense enough right now.” She wriggled. “Just claim me already.”

His gaze dropped to her swinging breasts. His lips parted, and his tongue wetted his lower lip.

She was going to attack him. “Flint…”

He shook himself and jerked away. “Better. It will be better. Once I get it all straight in my head. It’ll be… It’ll… Amazing.”

She would go crazy.

“And,” he focused on the far horizon, “there are things we must discuss.”

She unbuttoned his tight collar and played with the dusting of dark hair at his collarbone. “Like what?”

“How you will discipline me for shutting down the court without your permission, while also not looking like you are being manipulated by your advisers.”

“I’m sure you have a plan.” She made a fist of his small hair and pulled him closer. “But next time, tell me in advance. You owe me that much. I can’t help or protect you if I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know. I…”

She sat up. “It wasn’t part of your plan?”

His jaw muscles flexed. “I didn’t realize how lawless the Palace was, how shameless the aristocrats at the highest levels are, or how angry I would feel at their blatant disregard for justice in a pavilion named after that ideal.”

She traced every gray thread in his mesmerizing irises. “I grew up with those aristocrats, and trust me, I was also surprised.”

“Yes, well.” He shrugged, still clearly a little upset with deviating from the plan, but not concerned. “Nothing has changed. I merely delayed sentencing. It will cause the complainants an inconvenience, nothing more.”

“I know. But…” She lay back on his thighs again. “I never want to hear ‘Did you know what your consort did?’ from another dragon ever again.”

“Noted.”

“That’s usually what you say when you’re not going to do as you’ve been asked.”

“Perceptive. Will you put on a robe?”

“No.” She stretched. Her back popped. “I enjoy baring myself to you. And you will too, after you claim me.”

“You underestimate the addictive power of your beauty. But if you prefer thinking in the nude…” He made a show of gazing out on the landscape.

She relaxed on his thighs with a nice sigh. Even though her whole body throbbed, it was hard not to enjoy the brisk, icy weather, the relaxation of the moment, and the company. It had been a long week. “So, how do you want to be punished? Publicly, I’m guessing.”

“Attend the next judgment, say something bland about following the law, and sell the ‘we will put these conscripted dragons at the place of greatest need’ angle to help when we divert them to Earth in the future.” He frowned darkly. “And tell Cinnabar Corundum to eat brimstone.”

He is a small, weak male. A target.

Fire kindled in Galena’s belly. “Do I need to take her to the battle training grounds and assert my authority?”

“No. She is no threat to our plan. Her entitlement irritated me. My brother Jasper used to work for Space Voyages Inc. He struggled for years under impossible deadlines because of the actions of dragons like her. And to threaten to destroy it out of spite…”

“Didn’t Jasper consider how the Zentangle cards could put his former coworkers at risk?”

“He thought they worked hard for so little reward that it would be worth it to give them a crest of their own, no matter how unofficial, to feel a small sense of pride.”

The melancholy whistling of the winds through the sharp spears of the mountains settled over them.

“Flint.” She drummed her fingers against his chest. “What if we did give in to Cinnabar Corundum?”

“It’s out of order. We have to increase demand for Earth goods. Otherwise, diverting businesses to near-Earth space is a punishment instead of a reward.”

“But demand is already fairly high. Not within the Palace, but the Adviser to the Palace deliberately hasn’t stocked perishable Earth goods out of concern that she might change too many minds.”

“Don’t rush the plan.”

“But why not?”

“You can’t build an Empire in an afternoon.”

“But if you make the right argument in an afternoon, you can change an Empire’s worth of minds.” She sat up. “Our enemies are convinced that our changes are their ideas. We can move right now! And if we wait until after Earth becomes too popular, our enemies will complain we’re giving the exiles favorable treatment.”

“They’ll complain anyway.”

“Right now? When Earth’s still the middle of nowhere?” On second thought, he was right. Advisers could complain about anything. “Just remember that you originally thought it could take up to two decades before my mother died, and you were supposed to already be in the Palace as an adviser to her last consort—one of your brothers—to help me succeed. And yet it happened in a quarter of the time, and I got here without you.”

He winced.

“No, I just mean that things could happen a lot faster than you think. We shouldn’t rush, but we also shouldn’t turn away from an opportunity. It might be our last.”

“One year, five years, fifty years… Our enemies will back themselves into a corner.”

“And if they don’t?”

“It’s inevitable. Just listen. Your enemies always tell you what they want, and you can twist that to your own ends. I gave a lecture about it at the Citadel.”

She squinted at him. “One of these days—and I really hope I’m not around to see it—you’re going to be wrong. You’re going to look back on one of these conversations where I made a good point that you ignored, and we’re going to be in a disaster.”

He flashed his teeth, white and cocky. “Everything’s happening as I predicted. Why dig out a river that’s already flowing to the sea?”

“Am I so predictable?”

His grin slipped. The tug of his gaze down her body, possessive and hungry, made her shiver. He frowned. “Perhaps you are the only one who isn’t predictable, Galena.”

She cupped his cheek. “Flint…”

He planted a kiss on her palm—searing hot—and then stood. “Unrelated to this, I’ve been approached by several dragons recently with curious intentions.”

“Curious how?”

“About my skill in your bedchambers.”

She jumped to her bare feet. “Who are they? I’ll rip their throats out.”

“It’s not… It’s more a general awareness. Gazes that weren’t previously turned in my direction. The intentionality is different.”

“Answer me.”

“Seriously, Galena. What did you say?”

“The Gentleman’s Society objected to your human form. So I said it was necessary.”

He snorted. “For what?”

“Your incomparable skill in the bedchambers.”

A slow smile spread over his features. He rubbed his head with a hand, and a blush crept up his otherwise gray-tinted pale cheeks. “Wow, I’m flattered.”

“The longer you walk around in human form, the more solicitations I expect you will receive.” She leaned in. “Even though I myself haven’t experienced the full skill set…”

His gaze lowered to the delicate curls-covered vee between her thighs and jumped away. “Increasing your anticipation will make the eventual experience even sweeter and more fulfilling.”

“But I’m ready now.”

He floated to the secret entrance. “Imagine how much more ready you’ll be.”

She pressed her palms to her bare chest. “I’m aching, Flint!”

“Yes, but…” Whatever his answer was going to be, it trailed off as he disappeared into shadow.

Kitty galloped after him into the darkness.

“But nothing!” Galena called, then heaved a sigh and flew through the secret passageway back to the room. “What do I have to do?” She landed beside him on the stone and threw her arms around him. “Seduce you?”

Someone cleared their throat.

She and Flint both stiffened.

Her security officer, Linarite, stood in the doorway with a visible wince and looked like she didn’t know whether to respectfully stare at them or respectfully withdraw.

Galena released Flint and stepped in front of him. “What is it?”

“My apologies, my Empress.” Linarite glanced over her shoulder. “Your aunt…Adviser Enmity suggested that you might give a statement on military readiness.”

“Now?” Galena repeated sharply. “After I haven’t seen my consort in days?”

“Ah…” Linarite glanced over her shoulder again. “I thought…if an adviser from your house insisted on seeing you…maybe it’s more important…”

Galena sighed. “Maybe we don’t have to wait until the next judgment day. Hand me that gown.”

Flint did. “Or should I change into dragon?” he asked.

“No.” She stepped into the fabric, and he fastened it expertly. “I’m happy to discomfort my advisers for their impudence.”

Anyway, her odds of seducing him were better as a human, and she didn’t want to give in to Idocrase or any other advisers who irritated her with their judgment of Flint.

He looked up from tailoring the hem. “Flying to do their bidding midcoitus? Are you sure it’s clear that you’re punishing them for the interruption?”

“This will be the last time it happens.”

Her cat jumped down from the secret ledge, landed gracefully on her carpeted tree, and licked her paws.

Linarite peered at the ceiling as if trying to figure out where it had come from.

Flint finished his tailoring. Galena took his arm, and together, they floated out into the caverns.

Linarite flew behind them in her sleek dragon form. “I apologize for the interruption.”

“We are both learning our roles, Linarite.”

Galena reached the main chambers. Her gown fluttered between her ankles, silver beading shivering with richness.

Her aunt and a smattering of core advisers gathered in the closest public cavern.

Galena floated in as a human, Flint behind her. She stopped at eye level, two tiny humans in front of the largest elderly dragons, and faced them calmly.

Shocked silence fell over the group.

“Adviser Enmity. Advisers. I was apprised that you needed me to address your concerns. As a courtesy to you this one time, I have allowed you to take precedence over my carnal desires.”

Galena landed on a silver bench meant for a dragon and effectively created a miniature amphitheater with her in the center.

She lifted her palms in a gesture of defiant invitation. “Make it worth my while.”

Flint watched Galena annihilate her opposition with class.

She listened to each adviser’s complaint—only a few were about him—answered succinctly, and, at the end, allowed the question of whether it had been worth it to interrupt her simmer unanswered in the advisers’ minds. None received exactly what they wanted, but everyone received at least one answer.

The only one who didn’t participate was Galena’s aunt. Adviser Enmity simply watched the proceedings, even though she was the one who had summoned them. Once, when she apparently didn’t think he was listening, her watchful gaze slid to him and narrowed.

“Empress.” Adviser Enmity stopped her just as she was preparing to leave. “About sending troops to General Ragiosa—”

“Tomorrow,” Galena snapped. “For the second time, I will answer that tomorrow.”

“But why—”

“When I attend the Pavilion of Justice.”

Stunned silence finished that answer.

Adviser Enmity spoke aloud what they were all clearly thinking. “Why would you do that?”

Galena slid backward on the bench and secured Flint’s hand in a flirtatious manner. “Why wouldn’t I?”

They all stared with mouths open.

Her aunt recovered first. “I assumed you would be too busy.”

“I’m never too busy to show interest in the smallest aspect of Palace governance.” Galena’s long pause lingered so they would all reflect on what small things of theirs she might turn her attention to when they least expected it.

This was why she’d won the battle for Empress.

Galena didn’t need Flint to tell her what to do. She was fully capable of exceeding his wildest expectations all on her own.

He had to make himself invaluable to her.

Right now, she was still operating off his plan.

But if his plan ever failed her…

No. He was a focused, thoughtful, intelligent dragon. He would not fail.

None of his plans would fail.

Galena ended the meeting, returned to her chambers, and gave Linarite more explicit directions about how they were not to be disturbed.

Once back inside alone, Galena slipped out of the gown and stalked him. “I’m tired of fighting with my advisers over stupid things. Let’s exile Space Voyages Inc. and the other businesses to Earth and really give them something to argue about.”

He backed away. “There’s nothing wrong with our current plan.”

“Everything is wrong with it.” She frowned. “Are you running away from me?”

“Of course not.”

“How odd.” She followed him around the trunk, cutting him off before he could dart in and distract her with a new toy. “You keep delaying our union. Why? What secrets are you keeping?”

Nerves speared his belly. “None, Galena. Not from you.”

“Why do you look so nervous?”

“I d-don’t. I mean, I’m not.”

“Flint.” She pinched his lips gently between her soft fingers. “Talk.”

He raised a brow.

She released his pinched lips with a smile. “Okay?”

“Patience.”

She sat nude on the carved stone of her bed. “Look at me. The picture of patience.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

She crossed one leg over the other. “Mm. Because telling me will ruin your fun?”

“Ah, no.” His heart pounded. “You’re right. I should review a plan where we act now and exile the businesses. Perhaps we will do more than alienate our allies.”

She folded her fingers around the edge of the rock, and her nails curled around to dig into the stone. “You’re aggravating me.”

He drew up her clawed hands, careful of the razors. “It was your idea.”

“Flint.”

He sucked in a breath and let it out.

She was so beautiful, even more so when she eyed him with this devilish determination, and he was so helpless. All the delays had made him weaker and more desperate to take her, claim her. His cock right now was harder than the carved stone. He throbbed to have her.

But he couldn’t promise to keep control. He couldn’t stick to the plan.

Just tonight, he’d gotten all the way to tasting her gorgeous breasts, and then he’d touched her lovely mons…and she’d grabbed him with a cry. He’d come awake as if emerging from a coma. A lust-filled coma where he only acted on his pleasure and did nothing to increase hers.

He was selfish.

“There’s a good reason,” he promised. “Trust me.”

Her nails drew in. She rubbed his wrists in soft suggestive circles. “I want to trust you. You have to give me something to trust.”

His cock hardened. His breath caught.

Her lips parted. “Flint…”

“I will.” He drew her forward, out of the bed chambers and toward the trunk. “If you want to move the plan ahead now, I need all of tonight to think through the potential consequences. And that’s not enough time to go over every possibility with you before you’ll have to face the council. I have no way to stop you before you go off-plan.”

“Stand behind me and tug my tail. A little to the left means you agree, and a little to the right means I should incinerate my enemies.”

“I’m sure no one will notice me piloting you like a remote exoskeleton.”

“We can do a secret signal. Oh, I have an idea.” She unbuttoned his Chinese collar. Her silver-black irises darkened in approval. “Mm. Yes. And no one will notice.” Her gaze flicked up to him. “But if you stop me and I don’t agree with you later, you will owe me a hundred kisses!”

He barely diverted her quick intelligence to the stores of untouched luxury goods still hidden within the trunk. Her little smile told him she let him get away with it.

For now.

He backed away to the strategy board, wiped off the old plan, and began setting up a rushed timeline. Focusing on the board always calmed him. But this time, his attention was divided.

Flint had to make their first time perfect. And every time afterward.

He owed them both that much.

* * *

The following day, they flew to the Pavilion of Justice.

Linarite escorted Galena, as she usually did around the Palace. She took a place by the main entrance to watch over the pavilion while also remaining close enough to spring to Galena’s side.

Flint wore his usual gray suit with Chinese collar. Galena wore a flowing pantsuit with intricate silver beadwork in the shapes of gemstone streaks.

Were they really ready? He’d considered so many timelines before settling on the ideal one that, last night, he’d refamiliarized himself with paths already considered and discarded. The night had been spent shoring up weak points to ensure their desired outcome.

Today, the real test began.

Galena stretched and fixed him with a hard gaze. “It has to be their idea, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.” He grinned. “Be a benevolent but uncompromising leader.”

“Easy.”

“For you? Of course.”

They flew to Flint’s usual spot.

Adviser Baryte immediately began the docket. “Today, we review the cases previously rejected. Greywacke of House Adamantine? Cinnabar of House Corundum? What new claims do you put forward to the court?”

The aristocrats in question flew forward.

Cinnabar fixed her eyes on the Empress and stared in silent respect.

Greywacke didn’t. He snarled at Flint. “What good is presenting to you? You won’t see reason.”

“I won’t see lawlessness,” Flint corrected.

“Who cares what a former low caste sees anyway? You barely have the authority to hold your head up. You’re not important.”

The Empress rested a hand on Flint’s shoulder. Her voice was quiet with suppressed anger. “Do I have enough authority for you?”

“Huh? Who are you? Another low caste wearing the skin of a weak, vulnerable human?”

Cinnabar held her breath.

Galena’s eyes flashed. She took a step back and hunched. Silvery black scales showered over her human skin while her body stretched and elongated. Her dress burst, and the beads popped like confetti, showering the rock.

In dragon form, she filled the judgment hall, a massive powerful dragon with sharp fangs and razor claws. “Perhaps this helps?”

“E-Empress.” Greywacke turned a whiter gray shade and cowered. “I didn’t realize you would lower yourself to human form!”

“Perhaps I will take it more often.” She splayed her claws. Her voice boomed in the echoing space. “Hear this. I am Empress. I defeated all challengers! Flint Onyx is my voice in the Pavilion of Justice. When he stands here and speaks to you in human form, imagine that my dragon lurks behind him.” She curled her lip over her fangs and lowered her voice to a menacing growl. “Because I do.”

The dragons in the room trembled. Adviser Baryte bunched to dive for cover.

She rested her claws on either side of Flint.

He leaned an elbow on her knuckle and crossed one ankle over the other, the picture of ease.

Galena boomed. “What arguments do you present for my judgment?”

Cinnabar bowed while still keeping her eyes respectfully on Galena. “It has come to my attention that our rival, Space Voyages Inc., has broken sumptuary laws. They allow their low castes to not just create paper cards of self-designed family crests, but stamp them into metals!”

“Silver?” Galena asked.

“Well, no. But they could. Your consort knows all about it.”

“And what do you wish me to do?”

“Punish them! It’s dangerous to allow the wrong dragons family pride. That’s how you end up with rebellion!”

Galena’s large silver-black iris reflected Flint. She blinked.

Gathering her thoughts.

Flint pointed out the obvious for the rest of the court. “The design of fictional crests has never been a crime.”

“Because no low caste has been arrogant enough to do it before now.”

“What’s the usual punishment for violating sumptuary laws?” Galena asked.

Adviser Baryte answered before Flint could. “My Empress, the criminals forfeit all assets to the Palace and suffer conscription or exile.”

“Harsh,” Galena said.

“Very,” Flint agreed.

“But fair,” Cinnabar insisted. “Space Voyages Inc. has operated outside the restraint of an aristocratic family for too long. They must learn their place.”

“So you wish me to rule that possession of stamped metal violates sumptuary laws?”

Cinnabar nodded vigorously. “Of course.”

Adviser Baryte straightened. Stamped silver piercings dangled from his aged nostrils. “Not all stamped metal.”

“Yes! All.” Then she saw his piercings and changed her mind. “Of course, sumptuary laws only punish low-caste dragons.”

“The low castes at my estate sometimes carry my crest for identification and the delivery of parcels.”

“Official crests won’t count.”

Cinnabar fielded more protests until she narrowed on the Zentangles created with Flint’s siblings. She really wanted to destroy Space Voyages Inc.

Galena laid out a final point of consideration. “You realize that these designs were allowed entry to the Dragon Empire by the current advisers and the Gentleman’s Society. A change this sweeping should be reviewed by the core advisers, if not the full council.”

Cinnabar puffed her chest. “You don’t have to. You’re the Empress! You can make any law.”

“Offering a review to the council is a courtesy to you.” Galena rose and stretched. “Very well. Make the announcement. Possession of a stamped Zentangle equals violating sumptuary laws. All affected businesses are the property of the Palace, and all affected low caste dragons will be exiled in this court.”

Cinnabar folded her wings in a satisfied preen.

Greywacke strutted out. “And the old, useless, decrepit dragons on my estate have been stamping bent angles, too.”

He mispronounced the word showing that he had no idea what he was talking about.

“How convenient.” Galena hopped down from the judgment ledge. “Judgments are adjourned.”

Adviser Baryte straightened. “Ah, there is more to hear…”

“Flint? Come with me.”

He glided at her side.

She summarily ignored the adviser, her massive dragon body ambling through the caverns. As they left, Adviser Baryte hurriedly closed the court.

Linarite floated behind at a distance to give them privacy. Her gaze was competent and watchful.

Galena lowered her voice to Flint. “Do you think we’ll reach my chambers before my advisers summon me in a panic?”

“I don’t think you’ll get across this cavern before that happens.” He snorted. “Cinnabar was so certain she’d worded everything perfectly.”

“There’s a reason she’s not an adviser.”

They reached the opposite end of the cavern. Galena glanced up at him with amusement and stepped one clawed foot into the hall.

“Empress! Consort Flint.” A young assistant from House Palladium collapsed in front of them, panting. “If possible, my adviser would like to speak with you.”

Galena arched her brows at Flint. “I have pressing matters elsewhere. Remind Adviser Enmity of what I told her last night.”

The young assistant swallowed fearfully.

A crowd of assistants from the other houses rushed across the cavern, clamoring for her attention.

Flint pretended to cough. “Perhaps, for just a moment, we could hear them before you and I have our next appointment?”

She obliged and ambled to meet the crowd. “If it’s one single moment, I suppose.”

Galena allowed herself to be summoned to the second meeting in as many days. This was much larger, with panicked dragons packing into the core council cavern to appeal her decision.

Her heart pumped.

This was the first real test of her leadership.

Her claws flexed, her scales shivered, and her fangs sharpened.

She assumed her place in the center of the enclosed theater. Flint lounged behind her, looking perfectly at ease.

“There may have been a slight error of judgment,” the adviser for House Adamantine, Adviser Lancerious, began cautiously, “which I hope a calm debate can reverse—”

“This is an outrage!” the pale green Adviser Nepharia for House Corundum growled. “You cannot surprise us with a law of such sweeping consequences in the Pavilion of Justice. It must come before the full council! What is this tyranny?”

Galena smiled with all her teeth. “How can it be an outrage? Your house requested the law change and refused my offer to inform this council, and your house,” she nodded at Adviser Lancerious, “immediately made use of it.”

“Because laws aren’t meant to be passed in the Pavilion of Justice.” Adviser Nepharia jabbed a claw at Flint. “That wannabe human manipulated them.”

Galena curled her lips from her fangs. Her scales shivered with warning. “You will address my consort with respect.”

Adviser Nepharia dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Your illustrious consort manipulated my simple-minded house dragon. His low-caste family gave Zentangle lessons to our waterstone miners.”

“And yet your simple-minded house dragon recognized the risk. Why didn’t you?”

“Because when our miners delivered waterstones to stock the spaceship replicators, they saw the Space Voyages Inc. crests and demanded their own. Plus, the lessons were deceptively inexpensive. Replacing their jeans is a nightmare. They rioted when we rationed their coffee.”

“It sounds as if there’s a high demand for Earth goods.” Galena glanced back at Flint, who met her gaze blandly. He wouldn’t admit she was right and the Empire itself was rushing their plan. “But you must admit, Adviser Nepharia, that I can’t reverse every single ruling just because one house is too cheap to placate their dragons.”

“Cheap?” Adviser Nepharia sank her claws into the stone. “The Empire cannot survive without our rare, critical, and very expensive waterstones!”

“House Zeolite can source waterstones,” her aunt cut in. “They just received those contested mines. The issue of transport must be resolved. House Corundum shipbuilding is already years behind.”

“Forget shipping!” Pyropissite of House Zeolite snarled. “We had your consort’s family in to placate our synthesizing labs. Without synthesizing, dragon technology will collapse.”

Her aunt rolled her eyes. Adviser Lancerious snorted.

Adviser Nepharia addressed him directly. “Don’t be a dragonlet. Every house has synthesizing labs. And they aren’t going to be overwhelmed just because you suddenly have to pay to turn your protein block farming into something edible.”

“But it hurts our coffers.”

“And as Adviser Enmity just pointed out, you have new waterstone mines. You can afford to rebuild your synthesizing labs.”

He frowned heavily.

“What industries are affected?” The new adviser from House Ironstone, a young female named Adviser Malicia who had been sworn in during Galena’s absence, addressed Flint. “You must know.”

With Galena’s approval, Flint listed the companies that had booked Zentangle lessons with his family to partake in the cheap placating opportunity. The advisers fell silent as they shuffled opportunities in their heads. Although all had lost, all also had the potential to gain.

“That still doesn’t help losing my labs,” Pyropissite muttered.

“House Palladium can supply you at a discount,” her aunt said smoothly. “We will work together during this difficult time. But that ignores the real issue. House Corundum cannot be the sole provider of transport if Space Voyages Inc. is disbanded and the engineers conscripted or exiled.”

The advisers were silent for a good long moment.

Adviser Idocrase huffed self-importantly. “Well, I, for one, am grateful you’re taking some sort of care about the morals of the Empire. Now, if you would only do something about your consort’s shoddy appearance, I—”

Fury flashed through her. “Linarite!”

Her head of security flew to her side. “Empress!”

“Adviser Idocrase is banished from my presence.”

Her deep blue eyes blinked. She looked from Galena to the startled adviser.

“He has disobeyed me for the last time.”

Adviser Idocrase coughed. “Disobeyed you? M-my Empress, how—?”

“I told you not to appear before me until you were in human form. You are currently disobeying me. It will not happen again.”

“But—!”

“Linarite! He is exiled from my presence. Now.”

He didn’t move.

Linarite flew to the adviser. “You should leave. Or shift. Please? Now.”

He puffed his chest, shock causing his scales to shiver and turning him incredulous shades. “You can’t eject me. I am the Gentleman’s Society!”

Linarite glanced back at Galena.

“I called security as a courtesy to you, Adviser Idocrase.” Galena arched her back and extended her massive, deadly wings. “If I make you leave, it will be in pieces.”

He blustered. “But I…I’m… But I’m supposed to be here!”

Linarite rattled her gold staff. “I could shock you.”

“You haven’t heard the last of me!” Adviser Idocrase soared out of the room. “I’ll be back!”

Linarite returned to her station.

“If the only issue remaining is that House Corundum must expand its operations, there is no real problem,” Adviser Nepharia said. “We’ll expand. We’ll serve the Empire. And we’ll even, if we must, employ a few low castes in nonessential jobs.”

“Good,” Galena said. “That solves the last problem.”

“There is one more.” Adviser Malicia for House Ironstone glared at Flint. “Your family plotted this.”

Galena rose again, the scales on her body shivering with warning. “Do not disrespect my consort.”

“Do you deny it? His family has destroyed the lives of the dragons swept up in their quick-coin scheme.”

“Low castes,” one of the other advisers muttered.

“And now he’s sending those same dragons into bondage. We should reverse the law immediately. There is more at stake here than it seems.”

Anger boiled in Galena’s belly. Smoke curled from her nostrils. “Careful, Ironstone.”

Adviser Malicia’s nostrils flared as she recognized the challenge. But instead of demurring, she curled her glittering black claws into the stone. “I’m not wrong.”

Warmth seared Galena’s throat. Her muscles twitched.

Flint rested his hands near his collar.

His secret signal!

Galena fought to control her fury.

Why could she fight the Gentleman’s Society but not put down this impudent new adviser?

It didn’t matter. Only Flint’s plan mattered.

Galena released her bunched muscles but gnashed her teeth. “My consort denied Cinnabar Corundum for weeks. And when I intervened on her behalf, she insisted I rule without calling the full council. Yet you blame my consort instead of House Corundum.”

“Your consort is a Scholar.” Adviser Malicia lifted her pointed, scaly dragon chin. “Plotting another house’s downfall is nothing to him. His family was behind the recent upheaval at Ironstone.”

“How?” Galena demanded. “Did he challenge your last matriarch?”

“It wasn’t him. It was his brother Alexandrite.”

“Oh, Alexandrite Onyx? The exotic, rare-color dragon who was taken from the orphanage to be fostered with your current matriarch? He engineered her ascension! Well. That explains everything.” Galena snorted. “I had no idea House Ironstone was so vulnerable to attack by low-caste males from the Outer Rim. Would any other house like to inform me of their weakness? Anyone?”

Adviser Malicia snapped her mouth shut.

The other advisers murmured.

Galena clicked her teeth again for emphasis. “The next time any house asks me for a favor outside a council meeting, I will refuse. You’re only going to bring me in and complain.”

“Adviser Malicia doesn’t want to see Space Voyages Inc. dragons excavating former Ironstone mines.” Pyropissite smirked. The contested mines had been a sore point for House Zeolite for a long time.

Adviser Malicia ruffled her scales. “They didn’t break any laws. How can you exile them?”

“If you are so worried about the well-being of low castes, why don’t you go join them?” Pyropissite said.

“I represent the new matriarch of Ironstone. Iolite Ironstone cares about justice even when it’s not of greatest benefit to us.” Adviser Malicia glared. “This cavern stinks of back-cave brimstone dealings.”

This feisty adviser was set to lose friends and shake up the council on her first day. She had a lot in common with Flint, it seemed.

Perhaps it was no surprise he answered. “Adviser Malicia. Conscripts always go to the place of greatest need. This has traditionally been the Colonies, but it could be to any location in the Empire.”

Adviser Malicia’s brow ridges lifted in shock. “Such as Earth? You’re admitting your duplicity now? Your plot to move Space Voyages Inc. to benefit your low-caste family on Earth?”

The other advisers consulted with their assistants. Then Adviser Lancerious shared a dry laugh, and even Galena’s jaded aunt hid her smile.

Galena took over. “We could move the company to a more populated area. Would you prefer it next to your lair, clogging up the shipping lanes and using up your local resources, or a planet at the farthest reaches of the Empire, out of everyone’s way?”

“It’s a plot,” Adviser Malicia insisted.

“Moving Space Voyages Inc. from the Outer Rim to Earth is only a slight inconvenience,” Adviser Lancerious told her. “You’d have to ship the raw materials a few extra hours. When the time is right, just petition the Empress to move it back. This hardly affects Ironstone.”

“Earth is in a resource-dead area of the Empire. You will move Space Voyages Inc. away from all their contracts and place them into dead space all because of one family’s actions. Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

The other advisers chuckled at her open display of feelings.

Adviser Malicia huffed.

“Are we done here?” Galena asked.

Everyone protested.

The other advisers simply wanted to wear her down so they could achieve the best cut for their new duties, but Adviser Malicia was vocal and angry. She didn’t want a cut. She didn’t want to negotiate. She made things harder and more difficult to the point that even the other advisers showed fatigue.

“We’re all resolved except for one house.” Galena yawned at House Ironstone. “Will nothing satisfy you?”

“Repeal the law,” Adviser Malicia said.

The others shouted her down.

Into a momentary lull, Flint made a quiet suggestion. “Your previous matriarch was a great collector of unique objects. Perhaps House Ironstone would like to review the Empire’s archives.”

Adviser Malicia’s nostrils flared and a fire glowed in her throat. “How dare you? Matriarch Iolite would never agree to terms by such a nefarious, backstabbing, plotting—”

“Adviser Malicia.” Galena spread her wings once more. No one threatened her Flint. No one. “Are you insulting my consort?”

The adviser slowly lowered her neck. “No.”

“I will challenge you. I will fight anyone who needs a lesson in why I am the Empress and you owe me your obedience.” Galena flapped her wings, kicking up sand, goading them. “Who needs a lesson? It’s been months since I’ve sunk my claws into another dragon’s flesh and torn out their heart. Who wants to test my wrath?”

The older advisers and assistants held her gaze with respect.

Younger, less experienced dragons shied away from the sand and lifted their lips in snarls.

Galena stared at the dissenters one by one. She could put them down. Assert her authority smartly, force them to obey or fight, end the snippy dance she’d been engaged in with them since the moment she’d been crowned. Empresses ruled by might, and Galena was mighty.

Flint unbuttoned his collar.

His secret signal again!

He didn’t want her to fight.

Even though a fight was justified. And, in her opinion, necessary. Adviser Malicia had pushed her harder than any other adviser. No one forgot the first meeting an Empress drew blood. To defend her consort? That would send a message.

But he didn’t want her to.

Which meant he must want her to save the first fight for a more important time.

What could be more important than protecting Flint?

But she couldn’t ask him.

Very well.

She lifted her nostrils to the ceiling and snorted. Flames burned, and smoke blackened the cavern. The privilege of being a female and always having fire at her disposal meant that she also had to get rid of it occasionally. Her scales shivered.

He owed her an explanation.

She ended the meeting. Her aunt gestured for her to come and talk, but she ignored Aunt Realgar. Instead, she flew with Flint straight back to her lair.

And then, in privacy, she shifted to human and put her hands on her hips. “Why couldn’t I fight them?”

He made a dismissive gesture. “Why waste it? They only insulted me.”

“That is exactly why! No dragon dares insult my consort.”

“You should save it for a more important statement.”

“Like what?”

“Like the good of the Empire.”

She dropped her hands. Of course he would have a reasonable answer like that. She didn’t like it. “I could have challenged Adviser Malicia a little bit. She went too far.”

“Unnecessary.” He settled his hands in his pockets, casual and comfortable with his collar still unbuttoned. The single aristocratic piercing glinted in his earlobe. “And besides, most of her insults were accurate. I am from a low-caste family. We did engineer the Zentangles lessons for this purpose. And Alex did bring down the last Ironstone matriarch. Well, technically, it was his human wife, but the point remains, I am a plotting low-caste dragon.”

“You were raised a Scholar. They’re outside of caste.”

He laughed. “Few would agree.”

“I’m the only one who matters.” She gripped his collar in her fist. “Kiss me.”

His smile was wiped away. “Galena—”

“You promised me a hundred kisses if you had to stop me. But that will not even begin to calm my heart. You stopped me from defending my mate, Flint.”

He looked stunned.

She drew him closer. “Make it up to me. Right now.”

Flint’s heart thudded.

Galena gazed at him with such intensity, he couldn’t breathe.

And still he choked out the shocking word. “Mate? Not your consort, your mate?”

“Yes, my mate.” She hooked her index finger under the shirt collar to tug him forward. They were the same height in human form, and her trust and certainty soothed his doubts. “I have only ever wanted you, Flint. I will never want another. I’ve loved you for what feels like my entire life. And I want our future together to start now.”

Her lashes fluttered closed, and her chin turned up. Her lips brushed his with gentle pleading.

They kissed.

Maybe he could control this.

He’d tasted her mouth so many times. Suckled her breasts. Caressed her curves.

She wanted him as her mate.

Forever.

He wanted that too.

He just needed to pleasure her according to plan…

Her arms slid around the back of his neck. Her lips parted, and her tongue teased his. Lust surged into his cock.

While their mouths tangled in a heated dance, her body communicated her desire.

Her generous breasts caressed his hard chest. Her sweet thighs rubbed against his heated cock. She moaned, sweet sex noises, and released his mouth to trail kisses up to his pierced ear.

She tongued his piercing and spoke one desperate little word. “Please.”

His concentration broke.

He needed to feel her everywhere. Not in order, not with gentle pressure. Everywhere, hot and hard and now.

Flint wrapped his arms around her slim waist. She was a perfect shape. Wing-strong shoulder blades, generous hips, and rounded buttocks. He squeezed her fullness, kneading her, and she settled into his caress. His cock strained his trousers. She smelled like sheer cliffs, sudden gusts, wildness and need.

His heart tattooed a warning on his chest. Alarm he ignored at his peril.

If he didn’t stop himself soon, he’d lose control completely. Give in to mindless lust and slip down a slope. Start an avalanche. Could he stay on top of the rumbling force, or would they both be sucked under the destruction?

Galena deserved a sweet, gentle, well-planned, exquisitely executed seduction.

Not a rough dragon who couldn’t control himself.

His feelings tumbled him over and over.

He struggled back.

“Flint, please.” She murmured her need. “Claim me. Please.”

Hearing her beg pulled him under.

He could hardly hear, see, think. The pressure to have her, claim her, join for all time suffocated him. He had a plan, and he was overwhelmed.

His feelings buried him deep.

He flew her to the bedchamber, so unfocused that he didn’t clear the ledge of the carved chamber. His loafer toe caught the ledge. He somersaulted with her in his arms and landed on his back on the fluffy blankets.

She landed on top of him, surprised, and then giggled as though he’d done it on purpose. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.” He helped her up and crawled to the edge of the carved chamber. A thick glass edge created a lip.

“Oh, my emergency shelter.” She reached up and fiddled with a red button hidden in the interior wall. The glass shield covered the chamber. She tapped the button again, and it receded into the rock. “I wonder how it got triggered.”

Kitty leaped up the wall and smacked the glowing red dot. The glass shield began to slide. The cat leaped and hit it a second time. The glass began to lower.

“I have a theory,” Flint said.

“Hmm. Okay, you…” She put the shield down, collected the cat, and unrolled a new catnip toy. “Go play on the terrace.”

Kitty raced off with the new treasure.

Flint lay back on the blankets and rested his hands on his head.

He needed to slow down.

Galena landed playfully on top of him. “Don’t go to sleep.”

“I’m not sleeping.” He lowered his hands. “Galena—”

She stole his lips.

Heat flash-banged through his body.

They shared a long, deep, delicious kiss, and his fragmented thoughts warred with hot need. He rolled her onto her back, leaned over her beautiful body, and dropped sensual kisses onto her collarbone.

She moaned.

Her fingers fisted his shirt. Zip. Her claws slit the fabric, and she kept going, peeling it down his body.

His scales emerged to protect his skin from her rough, desperate movements.

Her desperation fired his.

He couldn’t think.

But he had to think.

She stripped him naked so they were both bared, fully nude, with no secrets between them.

Her soft breasts mounded in his rough hands. He wanted to rub his cock on all of her, take her, bite and possess her.

He captured her nipple, sucked and teased the sweet silver dart.

She wove her fingers in his hair, urging his tongue lower. Across her belly, toward her damp black curls.

Her glistening femininity was wet and more delicate than silk. He probed her softness and teased his tongue across her honeyed nub, listening for her moans to lave her. Worship her. Enchant her.

She grabbed his head. “Flint. I want you in me.”

He slid his fingers between her damp, dark silver folds.

She dug her fingers into his scalp. Little prickles of claws pierced him. “No. Your cock.”

“But I—”

“Now.”

He let her drag him away. His bare chest slid over hers. Her thighs wrapped around his waist and her feet nestled against his buttocks, controlling and commanding him into place.

His rigid cock slipped between her feather-soft human thighs. She canted her hips to guide him into her pussy. His cock head prodded her softness.

Slowly, slowly, slowly…

She nipped his neck, his chest, his ear. “Now.”

He lost the tight grip on control. His cock rested against her tight, hot channel.

She urged him to enter.

He encountered resistance.

She wiggled, moving them so they slid like two puzzle pieces unable to quite fit. Gliding heat drove his mind blank. There was only her, Galena, his everything.

He had to make it good for her. Exquisite. He slowed with all his might, focusing on gentleness.

Her feet dug into his buttocks. “More.”

He had a plan.

Her demand shattered it.

He obeyed, driving himself through the resistance, plunging deep.

She sucked in a breath. “Something’s wrong.”

He froze. “What?”

“Pain.”

His heart stopped.

Galena had wanted Flint uncontrollably for hours, craved him for days, and dreamed about him for five years.

But now the moment had come. It was different than she’d expected.

He’d filled her so decisively, and instead of finally sating her desperate need, it had caused discomfort.

She must have done something wrong.

He started to move back.

The friction of his cock exiting her channel made the irritation worse.

She stopped him. “Just wait.”

He struggled.

She tightened her legs around him, forcing him to still. “Wait.”

“But you are injured.”

“No.”

“You cried out.”

“Wait,” she insisted, with the same emphasis as when she’d demanded he enter her.

He remained taut and hard, but he did finally stop trying to decouple. She had spent all this time goading him to unite them. She just needed to settle in and get used to the feeling.

His cock inside her.

The throbbing intensity of his possession. Being filled so deeply, so truly, so much.

He would not leave her like this.

Not when she was still unsatisfied.

“Let me tend you,” he murmured.

“Just wait.”

“It isn’t supposed to hurt.”

“All the sensations are more intense in human form, even the intricacies of mating. Aren’t they?”

He lifted up on his elbows, meeting her gaze with uncertainty. Dark shadows under his eyes filled with doubts. “Are they?”

She teased a dark lock of hair back from his forehead. “Does the all-knowing tutor not know?”

“I can tell you about the mating habits of any creature you wish.” He closed his eyes and rested his stubbled jaw against her palm. “But none matter more than yours. Let me pull out.”

“Never.”

His eyes opened, and his dark gray eyes flared with her teasing denial. “I’ve lost my arousal anyway.”

“You can lose it?”

“As a human, yes.”

She wiggled her hips experimentally. His torso was so wide between her legs, and her muscles stretched as they straddled his unfamiliar yet perfect shape. “Get it back.”

“After you are healed.”

“Very well.” She unlocked her legs and allowed him to back up.

His cock was flaccid, and his concerned gaze hooked on the bedsheets. She followed his gaze down to her strangely right-sized body once more to light blood spotting the silk.

“Ooh.” She touched the tender, although still throbbing flesh. “A scratch? But you didn’t shift. I must have done something wrong.”

“No.” He returned not with her small box of convenient medical supplies, but a full surgical kit. Gauze, numbing solution, skin tape, glue. “This isn’t your fault.”

“It’s not?”

“Not according to my plan.” He sprayed a numbing solution. “I did not think to ask if you… You must only feel pleasure.”

She huffed about the spray. “But now I won’t feel anything.”

“For a few moments.”

“I didn’t want to wait.”

“For?” He applied a healing gel.

“A second attempt.”

His gaze riveted on hers. His pupils increased as his nostrils flared, scenting her—or perhaps scenting his mark on her.

She held his gaze fast.

If he thought a small scratch ended her desire for him, he was wrong. And if he thought she’d gotten her fill after one claiming? In this case, he’d barely offered her an appetizer…which had awoken her palate and made her aware of just how amazing the full course would be.

He tore his attention back to her injury. “Just a few moments.”

She sighed. “How embarrassing. To injure myself during mating? This must not happen to Earth humans.”

“It is rare in the pornographic videos.”

Great. She was a rare case.

He focused on his task like a professional medic. “You never joined with a dragon? Not even an unemotional coupling to relieve your physical needs, or curiosity?”

“Why would I?”

He glanced up, then quickly away and packed the supplies. “Even before I came to your house as a tutor, you had a…your father warned me away.”

She shrugged. “I acted out of boredom and privilege, but never found any male worthy of me. Until you.”

He rested on his heels. A war of emotion crossed his face.

She’d rattled him.

And she didn’t mind confusing or enticing him, but she didn’t want to rattle her beloved mate.

Galena cupped his stubbled cheek. “I’m fine.”

“I should have planned our first time as dragons. You wouldn’t have felt anything.”

“I possessed you as much as you possessed me.”

“But uniting is supposed to feel amazing, so I should have made it feel amazing.”

“You will.”

His gaze darkened on her pussy. “Not now.”

A wave of tender heat washed over her. She tugged him onto her. “Of course now.”

“Your injury—”

“Was a passing one.”

He opened his mouth to protest.

She silenced his lips with her kiss.

He yielded to their connection and swept his tongue deeper, his hard pectorals brushing her tightening nipples as he eased on top of her once more.

His kiss awoke her unsatisfied hunger. She was readier to experience pleasure than ever before. And in this, finally, Flint seemed committed. He would not stop again. She would not let him.

He trailed kisses down her body with lovely, languorous patience, and controlled and focused licking and teasing her belly button, the curve of her mons, the sensitive point of her clit. In a careful and devoted assault, he studied her pleasure like the Scholar he was. His dark gaze seemed to mentally record what made her moan and arch. He pleasured her with his tongue, with increasing intensity, until a hard wave of delicious release thundered through her body from the tingling wellspring within.

He watched her. Successfully making her come with only his mouth returned that familiar cocky expression she loved.

So, his confidence was back.

Good.

She dragged him up her body and seated his hard cock against her entrance.

His certainty wavered. “Galena.”

“Your arousal returned.” She canted her hips and eased him in.

He entered slowly, so achingly slowly, pressed into her hot channel. Her slickness coated him with honeyed invitation, until he filled her once more to the brim.

He took a shuddering breath. His biceps trembled. “You should rest and—”

“I don’t want to rest.”

“Humans would rest.”

“Humans don’t have dragon will.” She ground against him.

The answering hardness rewarded her. Sensual fog unfocused his eyes and flared his nostrils.

He fought her for control. “Listen to my wisdom.”

She nipped his lips.

He groaned.

She scraped her fingernails down his perfectly corded muscles. “…Flint.”

He looked up, haunted and yet aroused. “It was supposed to be perfect.”

“I don’t want perfect. I want you.”

He tumbled into her kiss. Their mouths united, tongues tangled. His cock grew in her throbbing channel as new desires teased and tormented her. He dared to try to pull back again.

She seated him tighter. “You are mine.”

His gray eyes glowed. “Always.”

“Then claim me.”

His rigid cock pressed into her sheath, slipping, sliding, while his body joined with hers in an imperfect and untried, yet earnest and eager rhythm.

No lies, no hiding. She caught and held his gaze. A moan tore from his throat, and a matching shudder of pleasure vibrated in hers.

The amazing fullness overcame her once again, uniting them into more than just herself, joining them for all time.

She loved him so much. His secrets, his plans, his idealism that met the imperfect world, and his dynamic recovery.

He dug in, bouncing and thrusting, softer and harder and soft again, finding her perfect pressure and rhythm.

Pleasure tightened her body, coiling in her veins, as she claimed him. Entwined him. Owned him.

He was hers and she was his.

His guttural grunts intensified. He lost control in the taking of her body, and yet his roughness was wild and heady, exciting and sweet. His panting gasps dragged her to the edge of her release. She was so turned on by him. Pleasure exploded deep inside, contracting her channel and squeezing his cock, and her orgasm flushed heat and release through her veins.

Her body tingled.

He shuddered, his release matched with hers.

They both lay quiet for long moments.

She closed her mouth from breathing hard and licked her dry lips. “So that’s human mating. No wonder the non-shifters devote so much time to it.”

“Mm.” Flint shuddered again and then lifted up on his elbows and yawned. “That wasn’t nearly as much time as they devote. Most of their educational videos are so long, even I get bored.”

Shock jolted her. “You were bored?”

“Well, considering—not with you! Of course, my experience with you was anything but boring.”

She nuzzled him. “I’d hate for you to get bored.”

“I would never…” He finally met her lips and seemed to accept that she was teasing him.

Then her stomach grumbled, and he pulled back, disentangling their bodies to feed her, in command once more.

Galena luxuriated in the love of her male, her mate, her Flint as he tended to her. For the first time, she felt like a real Empress of all that ever was and all that would be.

He flew her to her private bathing pool and dust baths for cleaning up, then eating a flavorful human meal, and then returned to the bedchambers for cuddling. He replaced the stained silk with new fluffy down and satin blankets. They felt like puffy clouds.

Kitty stalked along the ledge above the bedroom and hopped down to her cat tree, licked her paws, and attacked one of the extra blankets. Wrestling and biting, she tore a white feather free and then chomped it furiously.

Flint snuggled Galena from behind so they could enjoy each other’s embrace and she could still watch the amusing cat show. A deep sense of peace enveloped her in the same rhythm as Flint’s breathing. She wanted to wear him like a protective cloak.

But she also needed to protect him.

“I will attack the next dragon to insult you,” she murmured, and kissed his forearm.

His breathing hitched, then expelled in a long sigh. “When the time comes to attack, I will tell you.”

“And what happens if you’re not there? Or I’m not? I don’t care about perfection. I care about protecting you.”

His arms tightened in quick acknowledgment. “You don’t know how it tortured me to be away from you for the last five years.”

“Then understand why I feel the same anxiety right now.”

He was silent again.

Kitty attacked another pillow.

“Trust me,” he said.

“I do trust you. I don’t trust anyone else in this Palace, possibly in all the Empire.” She waited for a beat and then pushed. “If I can’t attack a dragon who insinuates that you moved Space Voyages Inc. to a dead backwater with no natural resources for a vicious plot, when can I?”

“When useful resources are found in the unexplored space beyond Earth.”

She rolled around to face him. “I know we agreed in theory, but there are millions of dead miles between the Outer Rim and Earth. What makes you so certain there aren’t another million miles on Earth’s other side?”

His lips curved in an ironic smile as if he knew what he was saying was crazy. “Statistics.”

“How often have you bet your life on statistics?”

“Nothing in this life is certain, Galena, but death and tithing to the Palace.”

“Tithing is negotiable, or so the advisers always tell me.” She sank into his arms. “How long will it take to discover them?”

“Once Space Voyages Inc. and the other expeditionary companies are set up, if the resources are close, it could take as short a time as a few days. If there are none for another million miles…it will take a very long time.”

“That’s a long time to punish dragons we want as our allies. Was it hard to work with your siblings for five years knowing they had no idea about your plan?”

“No.” He half smiled and stroked her shoulder. “I can only imagine the chaos if they’d tried to ‘help’ me. Well-meaning dragons can be the most dangerous idiots.”

She eyed him. “And what about me?”

He pretended shock. “Were you listening?”

She poked him. “Of course I was.”

He caught her hand and kissed it. “You are no idiot. And I do not worry about you because you can work out the reasoning on your own. It’s refreshing.”

She liked being refreshing. “Outwitting my advisers is hard.”

“You’re doing it well.” He kissed the crown of her head. “And anyway, I shouldn’t order you. You should order me.”

Flint was a dragon that flew his own air currents. She had no more power over him than she had over the wind.

Then again…

She cupped her throbbing mons.

Everything had changed tonight because she had harnessed those winds. She’d refused to let him delay her any longer, even though he’d tried for her own health.

Flint twitched behind her. He must be drifting off to sleep.

She was tired too, but not quite ready to give up their first night. “When the entire plan is revealed to the advisers, they’re going to be even sadder that I ended up as Empress.”

“It’s not like they have an alternate choice. You defeated everyone.” He yawned. “Without a strong contender for the throne like Helvine, it will be a messy heir battle to install any other dragon.”

“Without Helvine?”

“Her supporters have scattered now that she’s dead.”

“She’s not dead.”

He slowly tensed. “You left her alive?”

“Of course I left her alive!” Galena jerked away. His shock mirrored hers. “She was my closest half-sister and the only one I’d trust to become the Empress if anything happened to me.”

“But…” He blinked rapidly. “But I haven’t seen signs of her anywhere. The battle was so contested.”

“Right, because—”

“Empress.” Linarite spoke from the private hall communicator. “You asked me to inform you when Helvine emerged from her coma—”

“Coma!” Flint bolted upright, the sheets falling from his body, and gray scales flew over his skin in agitation. “That changes everything! Before she awakens, you have to—”

“—and her medics have announced that she’s awakened,” Linarite finished. “You requested to be the first to see her. Her family is waiting.”

“I’m on my way.” Galena flew out of the bedchambers and shifted to her full dragon.

Flint glided back and forth in a semi-human pace. “You didn’t tell me you’d let her live!”

“You didn’t tell me it was important.”

“She’s your biggest rival and the dragon everyone else thought should become the Empress!”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does! Five years ago, you barely knew Helvine. You certainly weren’t friends. She was a rival to you. I thought—”

“You’ve been gone from this Palace and me for five years, Flint. Consider what else might have changed when you decide to keep all your secrets in your chest.”

With that smart parting remark, she soared out of the chamber to see her newly awakened half-sister.

The one who changed everything.

Galena flew to Helvine, her heart in her throat.

Flint was shocked and angry. He remained behind, and that was fine. Galena wanted the time to greet Helvine alone.

The terrible final battle flashed across her mind just as it sometimes replayed in her nightmares.

Their shared triumph over the final attacker. The near-paralyzing knowledge that Galena now had to turn on Helvine. Watching her idealized mentor’s elation turn to shock, hurt, and then determination.

Their first aggressive feints.

Helvine was stronger and faster than Galena, and both knew it. Galena had flown just out of her reach, then turned sharply to stay within the battle arena, and again flew just out of her reach. Helvine raced faster and faster, only to miss at the last moment each time.

Her fury grew with each near miss. Snarling at Galena’s deception, raging at her cowardly fighting style. Her indignation that Galena had dared to turn on her after everything she’d done to raise Galena from obscurity. You were supposed to command my armies, Galena. Now you will command oblivion.

And then the accident…

Helvine’s family waited outside her medical room, exiled by Galena’s priority request.

Her husband, colorless white Davyne, gave a respectful nod. His sharpness was only notable because there had once been trust and friendship. “Empress.”

Their dragonlet, Jasmundite, curled into his side. She was too old to hide her green-faceted irises, but Galena overlooked the insult.

Aunt Realgar gathered with other relatives from House Palladium at a respectful distance. Linarite remained near them.

Galena alone soared into Helvine’s medical cavern.

The technology was hidden away, masked by the soothing sparseness of an ancient dragon lair. Helvine curled up on a specially modified, temperature-controlled silver bench in the center of the cavern.

No longer regal, she was hollowed out by prolonged illness. Her triangular orange-gold scales were dull and cloudy. Ribs stuck out, and her bony claws were bent. Although every broken bone, cut, and injury had been healed and she received sustenance daily, she looked weak and shaggy.

Galena found the dragon overseeing her recovery outside the room. “I was told she is awake?”

“Her brain patterns show she can now hear and react to external stimuli.” The medic entered and pointed a claw at the sensor display on a view screen hidden in the rock wall.

Galena approached Helvine more closely.

Shadowed cheeks, sunken eyes, and chipped fangs looked nothing like Helvine’s last time awake. Her gold-orange irises had focused so narrowly on Galena that she’d ignored the rock wall directly behind, and when Galena darted away at the last moment, Helvine had been going too fast to bank.

She’d slammed into the wall full force.

And although the wall had broken to pieces, the plinths overhead had loosened and crushed her under an avalanche of stone.

“Helvine?”

Her half-sister’s eyelids cracked. The whites were a broken-egg-yolk color.

“I’m sorry. About everything.”

Her eyelids closed.

“You weren’t supposed to end up like this.” Galena stared over the fractured dragon. “If you’d listened to me before the last fight, you would have understood.”

Helvine’s breathing steadied, and her eyelids remained closed.

Galena wanted Helvine to forgive her.

But she’d faded away without seeing Galena, much less responding to her.

Galena turned to the medic. “Are you sure she can understand?”

“Yes.” The medic flicked competent claws at an angled view screen. “How much? Her injury is devastating. We scanned her brain prior to the heir battles, and only time will tell if the treatments can restore her to any approximation.”

“Her body is also wasted away.”

“We do not begin treatments on the body until the mind is healed.”

“And how long until then?”

“An ordinary dragon wouldn’t have survived.”

Oh. The medic was trying to soften the answer that Helvine might never fully recover.

Galena padded to the view screen. Sleep patterns filled the screen. She would receive no more from Helvine today.

Maybe Flint had been right. Not about allowing Helvine to live, but forcing her to endure a painful recovery where she might never resemble the dragon of her past.

“Call me when she’s recovered enough to communicate,” Galena ordered.

The medic acknowledged it.

She walked heavily out of the cavern, her claws clicking on centuries-old rock.

Helvine’s husband and dragonlet waited by the entrance tensely. Davyne met her gaze, the irises clear and white.

“She is asleep,” Galena confirmed.

Jasmundite snapped her teeth together with a click. “How come you got to—”

“Hush.” Davyne swept his daughter away, curt yet respectful. “Thank you, Empress.”

They flew down the corridor to the private cavern to see Helvine, Jasmundite’s voice sharp and querulous, and Davyne doing an admirable job of muffling her.

Galena knew what he thought.

Once, Jasmundite had flown beside her and excitedly announced that she would grow up to be a fighter at her mom’s side just like Galena.

Those days were gone.

Forever gone.

Aunt Realgar glided away from the other supporters with a lowered, sympathetic voice. “Were you able to talk?”

“She’s too injured.”

“Palace medics are the best in the Empire.” Aunt Realgar turned slightly. “At risk of favoritism, I wonder if I could trouble you about another issue of family…”

Galena accompanied her to the chambers assigned to House Palladium. At her command, Linarite waited outside.

In a private chamber, Galena addressed her aunt. “Matriarch Lavendulan is the one who cut off communication, not I.”

“Lavendulan pledges her full support, of course. We all do. This is a different matter.” Aunt Realgar opened a view screen. “You were always close to your father.”

Galena choked. Her scales shuddered violently. “Father?”

On the view screen, her father’s barrel chest and shiny, reflective gray scales dominated the room. He was at their family estate. “Galena. Although you couldn’t give me a courtesy notice about your flighty, ill-informed, and hasty decisions to gift House Palladium with a useless planet like Earth, you should know I am prepared to accept the export goods, native populace, and all dragons you’ve pointlessly exiled.”

“I see.” She hardened herself. He didn’t look any different from the last time they’d argued, on the day of her coronation. “Why do you think you must accept this useless planet?”

“Because if I do not, you will look worse than you already do to the Empire.”

“No, I mean, why do you think I intended for House Palladium to own Earth?”

He blinked. “Because it is ours.”

“Earth is governed by a Dragon-Human Treaty ratified by Empress Horribus. It’s a protectorate of the Palace.”

“And Earth has the wreckage of an ancient House Palladium Colony ship buried under the pyramids. That gives us historic ownership.”

“Perhaps, if there was no treaty, I would consider your claim.”

“My claim? You are the one forcing me to rule over a backwater, genetically recessive, disgusting—”

“Let me allay your fears.” Galena extended her claws. “The Palace controls Earth. Any act by House Palladium to claim it will be seen as an act of war. Your assistance is not needed. Go back to sourcing replacement block stone.”

His nostrils flared with anger. “That is no way for a dragonlet to address her father.”

“How about for an Empress to address an undesired, overstepping, rude male? Huh, Glaucodot?”

At her casual use of his name, her father puffed up with rage. “You should never have become Empress. You were not trained. You will fail before the year is out.”

“You said I’d fail in a day, and we’re weeks in.”

“Yes, well, your long-suffering advisers have—”

“And if I was not trained, the blame falls squarely on you. Because here I am. All by myself.”

“You coasted on the tailwind of Helvine and then turned on her.”

“Too bad you didn’t foresee that. You could have raised me to bend to your manipulations.”

He stared at her.

She stared right back.

“If I had known you would grow into a dragon of so little qualification, I would never have sired a dragonlet with Empress Horribus,” he growled. “Not for all the alliances in the Empire.”

“Perhaps you should go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

“I can no longer do so. Your reckless, simplistic ideals are going to destroy the Empire, ruin our family, and plunge us into war—”

She mashed the button to terminate the call. The view screen shut down with a satisfying zing.

Her aunt watched from the corner. One clawed hand covered her mouth.

“Now you know why we don’t talk.” Galena turned to leave.

“Glaucodot has never seen you clearly.” Her aunt ambled beside her. Her black-tipped red claws clicked the stone, and her long tail whipped with sympathy. “You are a Palladium heir. Yes, we all thought it would be Helvine or one of the other girls, but my brother would chew off his foot to trim his claws.”

They stopped at the chamber entrance.

Her aunt glanced around, looked over Linarite, and lowered her voice. “Then you did not intend to gain your father’s favor by gathering dragons in niche industries and then gifting them, along with Earth, to House Palladium?”

“No.” Galena choked on a laugh. “Why would I? He’ll never be satisfied.”

She bid her aunt farewell and flew through the public caverns out the Dragon Gate, surprising all who were up at this hour. She spiraled into the night sky. It was green tonight, deep green, with yellow and white fire like the inside of a gemstone.

Linarite flew far below.

Today, Galena had fully taken a mate, and she couldn’t tell anyone. They were supposed to have united before the consort ceremony. The truth burst inside.

And it clashed with doubts.

She hated how she’d betrayed Helvine. She hated what Helvine had become. Hated destroying Helvine’s family. It had destroyed Galena too.

Her own father felt she didn’t deserve the Empress role.

She felt like she didn’t deserve it either.

Tricking her adversaries into relocating Space Voyages Inc. or cutting off the supply of troops to the Colony Wars were bold, possibly doomed moves.

She might go down in history as the Empress who didn’t belong, who had stolen the throne from the rightful heir and couldn’t hold her throne for even one year. She could fail hard and fast.

Everyone disagreed with her. Even Flint.

His doubts weighed twice as heavy as her own.

She thrashed through it, marginally aware of the dragons who flew up to her as if to challenge her, tease her, try to compete. She was better than all of them, and she outpaced any who tried.

Galena was the Empress for as long as she could hold it.

And she would not yield to anyone. Not to hurt another. Not even if everyone thought she should.

Not even to her mate.

Flint paced in the cavernous private chambers while Galena visited her half-sister.

Whom she’d let live.

Even though everyone thought Helvine should be Empress. Even Galena thought so, clearly.

This was a disaster.

Galena stayed out much longer than Flint was expecting and flew in very late. She shifted to human, her scales sucking into her skin as her limbs shortened into her dominating beautiful curves.

She turned away from him, pulled on a silk robe, and collected her cat, who hissed and fought. She contained Kitty easily, scales covering her fingers while the cat played. She smelled like the winds of the mountain.

He went to her.

Wildness flashed in her eyes. “What?”

“You didn’t come back.” He hugged her. “Helvine might have talked to you. Convinced you to do something unwise.”

By degrees, she softened until she leaned against his shoulders and closed her eyes. “Helvine was too injured. She might be able to communicate in weeks or years.”

He debated all the possible ways he could respond. Then he chose the most practical. “Can she be turned to our side?”

“You asked me that five years ago.”

“Did the answer change?”

“I don’t know. Before her injury, I was unable to broach it. She, like other members of my house, did not see me as ruling material.” Galena snugged the wild cat closer, claws and all. “Now, who knows?”

Flint silently danced around his panic.

They needed to know. They needed to know right now.

Because once Helvine recovered, assuming she did so in weeks rather than in years, her supporters would rally. Galena would have to defeat her in combat again. It would be a meticulous, hard-fought battle. And Galena’s advisers would undermine every ruling until the moment Helvine displaced her.

“Establish your authority now,” he told her, trying to keep the nervous edge out. “Decisively.”

“I wanted to earlier tonight.” She pulled back, glaring at him, then at the walls. “I wanted to fight Adviser Malicia. You stopped me.”

“Because you didn’t tell me you’d left your prime rival alive.”

“I assumed you knew. Everyone at the Palace knows. And in our houses. You never mentioned it, so I assumed it wasn’t important.”

How could Galena keep Helvine alive without telling him?

How could she not know it was important?

He gritted his teeth to keep from demanding she answer those questions.

She heard them in the taut silence anyway. “Now, we just have to work around it.”

“Undermine her legacy. Take away her supporters and cast doubt on her ability to rule.”

“No.” Galena pulled away from him, tall and noble in sheer metallic silk and cascading black-silver hair. “Helvine is my half-sister, the only one fit to rule if I don’t, and the only one we might be able to reason with. I care about her like I care about you. I’ve already betrayed her once. I won’t do it again.”

“The fate of the Empire is at stake.” He stalked after her in a black silk robe that reflected his shimmering gray scales as they rose up his body and descended again. “You are the only one who can end the Colony Wars this millennium. Possibly ever.”

“At what cost?” she demanded, releasing the cat to climb up to a ledge as they argued.

“One dragon who—”

“My heart.” She thumped her chest. It made a hollow sound. “Once I betray Helvine, who else will I betray? This is how it begins, Flint. My mother didn’t start out ripping her consort’s arms off. She married first one dragon to secure an alliance, and then once she’d established trade and borne an heir, she dumped him and married another. Somewhere in that coldhearted pursuit of Empire, she must have hated it, but it was too late to turn aside.”

“You’re not your mother.”

“How do I know? She made her first choice decades before I was born. Good intentions bend into tyranny. And our rivals are not all good or all bad. They are flawed and greedy and honest and selfless just like me. We are working at cross-purposes, but ending the Colony Wars is only one of the legacies I want to leave.”

“The fate—”

“The fate of the Empire rests on my claws. Today. And in the future, it will rest on my daughter’s claws. I want her to look at me as a dragon she would be proud to emulate. Not like all the other dragons who step from conquest to betrayal and rest on a pile of lies all in the name of the Empire.”

She was so fierce and beautiful, it made his heart ache.

Galena was smarter, wiser, and more honorable than he was.

He only cared about ending the injustice his way, by proving the theories that the Scholars had called too radical and unrealistic were legitimate blueprints to change the Empire. Galena wanted more than glory for herself. She was a better dragon.

“Okay.” He sat on the largest bench, fit for the Empress, and kicked his feet out. “Then we have to trick the advisers into challenging you. How easy is it to offend them?”

“The advisers? Not easy. I could trick their assistants, but they survived my mother and her reputation for quick anger. Repeating that will work against me.”

“Then we’re stuck.”

“Not necessarily.” She sat beside him, rested her head on his shoulder, and outlined possibilities.

He listened without much input.

This type of brainstorming would be much easier for one of his siblings. Alex, for example, had a sixth sense for secrets, desires, and manipulations. Flint always looked too far. When he saw five moves ahead, it surprised him that other dragons only saw one or two, and acted accordingly.

While Galena planned aloud, tiny cracks of doubt raced up the foundations of his world.

Everything had happened too fast.

Not just Galena’s ruling to exile Space Voyages Inc. early.

Everything.

He hadn’t planned for Empress Horribus to pass away so quickly. He hadn’t planned for Ironstone to change over to a new matriarch and adviser. He hadn’t planned for Galena to rule in the shadow of Helvine.

Something would come along that he couldn’t control, and his plans would snap.

Galena dropped silent. Then she asked in a quiet voice, “Do you ever regret that you weren’t a tutor for Helvine when she was a youth?”

“What? No.”

She lifted her head and searched his eyes, her silver-black irises gleaming with intensity. “Never?”

“When she was a youth, I was a dragonlet.”

“You know what I mean. If you could have reached out to her instead of me, I’m sure she would have listened.”

“I’m not.”

“She’s very reasonable. You don’t know her like I do.”

“I don’t think about it.”

She brooded quietly.

“Based on her actions up to the heir battle, Helvine placated your family too much,” he said, trying to steer Galena to safer ground. “She would have taken the throne, and your matriarch would have silently stood behind her. As it is, I’ve barely seen Lavendulan Palladium.”

“She threatened me after the coronation ceremony.” Galena rose with a yawn. “I was at the point of accepting her challenge to teeth-and-claws combat when Aunt Realgar stepped in. She’s been the go-between ever since.”

Corruption ruled every house, and Galena’s nonchalant denial of favors was the real surprise. She’d only escaped the influence because her house hadn’t recognized her potential and she hadn’t been groomed since birth to obey certain masters.

Helvine might have been able to throw off her influencers. Flint had never met her to determine whether she would want to.

“What about your matriarch?” Galena led him to the bedchambers for a brief rest. Already, the sky lightened for day. “Onyx tithes to Ironstone. Will they demand favors?”

“As soon as I find out we have anything Adviser Malicia wants—for herself or for her matriarch—I will be the first to tell you.”

Galena smiled wryly. “I suppose you will.”

He drew her in for a brief snuggle and sleep.

Everything was unsettled, but all he could do was move forward.

The days continued with little deviation. After the shock of Helvine’s awakening, her long recovery faded to the background, and even those who dared to talk openly in public about wanting her to quickly recover quieted as one week, then another, and another passed with no improvements.

Galena ruled smartly and dared advisers to challenge her.

But the ghost of Helvine worked against her.

Advisers who might have been goaded before Helvine’s awakening now became cautious. It raised questions. Did one adviser agree because she wanted Galena lulled into a false sense of security, or because she agreed with her ruling? Did another adviser delay complying with her rules because of a legitimate issue, or because he was trying to wait her out to avoid doing her bidding? These thoughts aggravated her every night when she came home to him and lost her frustrations in hot, rough, passionate lovemaking.

Galena came to him night after night, in the daytime, every hour. Sometimes between sessions. Calling him out to fly.

On the terrace.

Everywhere.

Sex with her was so good. Addictive.

He lost his mind every time.

But the mistake he’d made during their first joining lingered, a warning, in the back of his brain. Unlike dragons, half the genetically recessive Earth females supposedly experienced discomfort during their first sexual encounters. His oversight had cost Galena. He had to work harder to avoid any more.

Before it was too late.

During the following weeks, it became apparent that Adviser Malicia was a fervent supporter of ending the Colony Wars, expanding trade, and giving rights to low-caste dragons.

She was a super ally.

But she hated Galena.

As she couldn’t have a conversation with Galena without fighting, Flint took it upon himself to educate her.

Surely she would support Galena once she understood they held the same ideals.

“Being a new adviser to a new matriarch, you may not have enjoyed the guidance of your predecessors,” he told Adviser Malicia as he led her into the cavernous archives deep beneath the Palace. “I studied these archives years ago as a Scholar. If there is anything you are looking for, I will help you find it.”

Adviser Malicia floated after him in human form through the massive endless chambers. She wore a loose gray tracksuit and canvas flip-flops, the semiformal dress of House Ironstone.

The air of the archives was purified and the dust minimized; a scent of preservation materials filled the temperate caverns.

She landed. “Where are the archives on the Colony Wars? Mining in particular.”

He showed her the region, and they strolled down the walls of maps. “These show the crash sites of the original Colony ships. The hulls, as you know, are not part of these archives.”

“No, I know. Apparently, ours belonged to other families, or so your empress believed when she gave half our mineral rights away to House Zeolite.”

“According to historical records, they—”

“The ownership marks are worn away, so there is no proof.” She stopped at a more recent map. “When is this from?”

“The early years of the reign of Empress Horribus. She disappeared during the Battle of Betrayal and was presumed dead. The military spent a full year surveying the Colonies searching for her. This map is the result.”

“Why do all the mines on this survey have a medical caution symbol next to them?”

He leaned in. The minutiae of Colony resources hadn’t interested him beyond their applicability to ending the war. “It is thought that digging into the soil of some Colony planets increases the risk of shifter sickness.”

She frowned.

He explained. “It’s a sickness in pregnant dragons where—”

“—a mother shifts and her baby doesn’t, risking them both. Yes, I’m aware of what it is. Obviously. I thought this genetic disease was bred out of dragons.”

He was somewhat surprised that she knew about it. Flint had come across it only recently in obscure old medical records. He’d researched potential complications for the pregnancies of his sisters-in-law, but since they couldn’t shift, it would never be an issue.

“It’s been absent since the great starvations.”

“Except in the Colonies…” Adviser Malicia continued strolling. “And that’s why some dragons want to wipe them out. Destroy the inferior genetics.”

“Not all differences are inferior.”

She gazed at him with daggers as though shocked he would talk back to her, an adviser, when he was only a male and the Empress’s consort.

He endured the gaze without flinching. He lifted a single brow to emphasize the odd size of his gray eyes.

She eventually looked back at the maps.

For Galena’s sake, he had to try harder to win her allegiance. “Although the mines are gone, Ironstone should pursue a resource independent of any territorial dispute.”

“Doesn’t exist.”

“How about growing a popular product? Coffee is valued more highly than diamond dust.”

“Ironstone isn’t an agricultural house.”

“You could explore it.”

“No.”

Flint’s claws poked against his nails. He flexed, letting them play just beneath his skin.

Alex would know how to manipulate Adviser Malicia.

But even an exotic dragon like him was still low caste, and therefore barred from the Palace. And anyway, Flint should improve the skill himself to be worthy of Galena.

Flint flew with Adviser Malicia to the archives entrance. “You may ask for me any time you wish to return, Adviser Malicia, if I can count on your continued friendship toward the Empress.”

She squinted at him. “Is this supposed to be a bribe?”

His cheeks ached from smiling too wide. “It is a gesture of friendship.”

“Because I have morals, and it’s hard to tell if you honestly think that throwing around all these things—coin, warships, troops, favors—is supposed to make me overlook the fact that your so-called Empress stole the throne. One she now seems hell-bent on dismantling.”

“Dismantling?”

“I don’t know what else you’d call ignoring the military, pretending the Colony Wars aren’t happening, and tossing dragons into the void. How can she banish dragons to her pet planet at the ends of the Empire when General Ragiosa could use them to decisively end the war?”

How aggravating. “I assure you that stationing more troops with General Ragiosa will not end the Colony Wars.”

“Sure it will,” Adviser Malicia said blithely, when it was perfectly clear that she had no more military experience than he did. “An overwhelming force could end it right away.”

“Then why hasn’t it?”

“Because the houses profit off the war too much, so they won’t give the general what she needs. And because General Ragiosa lets the Colonists get away with prolonging the fighting. If the new Empress went to her and demanded her allegiance, then forced her to use the whole military to take over the Colonies once and for all, the war would end, and we would all be at peace.”

“Brute force doesn’t always lead to peace.”

“Sure, you would say that.” She blew a raspberry. “You don’t know. We have to stamp out the fighting and then we can focus on rebuilding. Until the Empress takes responsibility and does something about the war, I will never support her. You can give me all the coin in the Empire, and it won’t buy my false loyalty.”

Irritation crackled under his skin. His scales emerged. “The Empress is working to stop the Colony Wars.”

“They all say that.”

“But we mean it.”

She snorted. “I have just emerged from under the leadership of a matriarch who crushed our house, exiled worthy dragons, and destroyed anyone who displeased her in the pursuit of selfish, personal desires. I know what it looks like, Flint Onyx, and I’m seeing it all over again right here. And it’s disgusting.”

“You’re wrong.”

“It seems that being a Scholar doesn’t make you smart.” She lifted off, dismissing him, and flew down the hall.

He wanted to zoom after her and shout that she was an idiot. They were all on the same side of wanting to end the wars! She needed to change her attitude.

His scales shimmered under his skin.

Galena flew into the hallway in human form and passed Adviser Malicia. They acknowledged each other stiffly. The Ironstone adviser flew off.

Galena landed beside Flint, her bare feet kicking sand and her lips curved into a wry smile. “I see it did not go well. Let me guess. She was angry about the so-called bribe?”

“Worse. She thinks sending troops to Earth prolongs the Colony Wars. A decisive victory would ensure peace.”

“Like it did for the last five Empresses who tried. The Colonists are wily, allowing us to think we’ve won and then smashing us when we least expect it.” Galena’s lips curved. “Well, she must have been civil. I heard no shouting.”

He held up his scaled arms, still ruffled with suppressed fury. “I was so shocked, I couldn’t get a word out. It won’t happen again, I promise you.”

“I’m reassured.” She dropped a kiss on his lips, then rose into the air to continue on her way. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Thank you, yes.” He waved to her.

She disappeared around the corner.

He strolled across the ground, moving at human speed to collect his thoughts and relive the anger until he figured out how to use it.

Along with his mistake about Helvine’s survival, with Galena’s first sexual encounter, and with Adviser Malicia just now, how many other oversights had he made?

All the changes poured on faster and faster like an avalanche.

Anger gave way to irritation. His scales shimmered up his arms and across his chest.

Flint couldn’t be caught unawares again. Or else—

A sleek male dragon leaped from an alcove. “Die, weak low caste!”

His claws slashed Flint’s suit, and he slammed Flint into the ground.

Flint’s breath ejected in a whoosh.

“For the exiles! You weak, unworthy male.”

Flint’s irritated scales had protected him against the sudden, violent attack.

But the male dove for his throat.

Flint threw up his arm and shifted as he tried to roll.

The male snapped down on Flint’s elongating forearm.

Fangs pierced Flint’s bone.

Hot pain lanced his arm.

“Oh, Flint, I just remembered—” Galena flew around the corner.

Flint screamed.

Galena echoed him a thousand times louder. Her war shriek echoed through the empty caverns. It cut off, and her human throat glowed molten orange.

The male scrambled off Flint. “W-what? You’re not supposed to—”

Flames erupted from Galena’s human mouth that quickly elongated to fangs as she shifted into dragon.

She scorched the sand around the panicked male.

He darted down the hall.

She cut him off, pumping out gust after gust of incendiary fury. Fire engulfed his body. He struggled the opposite direction to get away. She stormed after him, unrelenting.

The heat from her attack seared Flint’s chest, hair, and eyebrows. He covered his face with his pained arm.

She soared over Flint, claws first, and attacked the now-smoking male.

He swung at her blindly.

She clamped onto his throat.

The fight ended.

Galena had defeated over thirty half-sisters in teeth-to-claw combat. Some had yielded. Some had refused, and they had died.

This male was not given the choice.

She left the attacker’s lifeless body in a heap and shifted back to human to kneel beside Flint. Galena traced her human fingertips across the red, beaded-up scratches on his chest. Smoke drifted from her throat. She growled. “How dare they?”

“They?” Flint coughed from the smoke. “You know who sent him?”

“My enemies. One of them.”

“I disagree.”

She tilted her brows. “Clearly it was.”

“He shouted ‘For the exiles!’ as he attacked.”

She stared at him, then rolled her eyes. “One of our allies? Like Adviser Malicia? I’m surrounded by idiots. You don’t seem surprised.”

“Life with the Scholars. Allies with competing theories were always the most vicious.”

Galena helped him stand.

His clothes fell off in shreds.

She shifted one arm to claws, and raked the dead male’s side. “I don’t care whose side you’re on. How did an attacker get in here? Where are my guards? In my own Palace! How shameful.”

Flint’s hands shook.

It had been a long time since he’d feared for his life.

He curled his hands into fists. In the orphanage, he’d sometimes wondered if he would reach his first decade. That was the last time he’d been quite so scared. As an adult dragon, he usually avoided bullies.

This attacker had come out of the shadows with purpose.

The male had intended to kill him. Not anyone. Him.

“Linarite!” Galena shouted. “In my own Palace. Unbelievable. Guards? What house is this dragon from? Do you know?”

“I don’t,” Flint’s voice was only a little shaky. “Gate security would know.”

She screamed for them.

The guards assigned to the isolated archives finally appeared, and it was clear that the smaller males were stationed here because of their size and slowness to respond.

Galena needed to resolve her security problem. Immediately.

“Summon Linarite,” she ordered while the two males milled uselessly, confused and shocked by the whole attack. “This is ridiculous.”

Linarite finally appeared with more competent security dragons. She seemed out of her depth, although she acted like she would try to investigate.

One of the archive guards jerked a claw at Flint. “If he didn’t walk around like a weak human, a dragon bully wouldn’t have taken the opportunity.”

Galena whirled on the male. “If my security guards can’t prevent these kinds of attacks, I’ll order all dragons to assume human form!”

His eyes widened. He quickly lowered his neck in a subservient bow. “No, my Empress, please don’t, my Empress.”

“Then get me answers. Or else!”

Guards scooped up the body. Others pushed gathering onlookers back. Rumors had probably already spread through the Palace. Would news of the attack help, or make Galena more vulnerable?

Galena stormed to Flint. Dark shadows and bloodshot eyes made her look exhausted, and rage sharpened her teeth into points. “I was coming to tell you that I would be delayed tonight by a military inspection. But perhaps I should not go.”

He touched his scored chest. “I’ll seek a medic.”

“One’s already on the way.” She eyed the emptying hall. The few staff had managed to push onlookers out of the hall. “Every hour, there’s a new danger. I will not let anyone hurt you.”

“I know you won’t.”

She patted his arm. Her human skin was an unusual pale gray. “I’ll be back late.”

“And then you must sleep.”

“Yes.” Her lips, normally silver, darkened to black. “I’m suddenly so tired. But my enemies aren’t resting. I won’t either.”

He could stay on top of this avalanche. “We’ll figure something out together.”

“Empress!” Linarite held up a small communicator. “The medic is on his way for Flint, and the commander of the local warship awaits you.”

“I’m on my way.” Galena released Flint and turned.

Her back arched as if she were going to shift.

But instead of scales pouring over her as her limbs elongated into a beautiful dragon, she clutched her belly, hunched over with a pained cry, and collapsed.

Galena was going to throw up.

Her stomach roiled, full of oil, and her guts seized. Tiny prickles felt like Kitty digging in her claws, but somehow, she kneaded Galena’s intestines.

The lighting was all wrong. A hiss of ventilators and antiseptic scent meant she was in medical. But despite receiving treatment, the discomfort persisted.

She shifted to scales to stop the sensation of penetration.

“Stop that,” Flint ordered her.

She obediently stopped.

The pain returned.

She moaned.

“I know.” His warm hand rested on her human forehead. “Medic. Was the assassin carrying a poison?”

She forced bleary eyes open.

An old male reviewed a view screen at her side. His soft tone was comforting. “We can rule out poison, radiation, and the like. I’m sorry, but the Empress is healthy and pregnant.”

Flint stilled. Then he blinked. “Pregnant?”

The pains faded.

Galena was carrying Flint’s dragonlet? A fierce protective love zipped through her. She curled her hands around her belly. No one would harm her dragonlet. No one.

Then the pain streaked through her guts, and she moaned.

“Why are you sorry?” Flint asked, seeming to set aside the pregnancy for a moment and focus on her health.

He never could give his full attention to more than one thing at a time. It made him focused in their lovemaking. But perhaps he had too narrow a focus at other times.

“Because it seems that she has inherited the Empress’s curse,” the old medic replied. “That is why I cleared the room and have turned off all communicators, even the security ones. I know you watched me with quite the eye. I was the Empress’s medic since before Empress Horribus, and my predecessor told me in strict confidence. I assume for safety, you will want to keep this secret.”

Galena forced herself to speak through her pained lips. “What secret?”

Flint took her hand.

The medic lowered his voice. “This curse has passed through the Empress line for centuries. An Empress loses her firstborn. Sometimes a later dragonlet as well. Always in the womb, and often, although not always, before she knows she is pregnant.”

Cold seeped into her.

She clutched her belly while Flint squeezed her other hand. “No.”

“You have spent so much time as a human that you’ve avoided an early tragedy.”

“What is the problem?” Flint’s voice clipped. “State my Empress’s illness and what measures she must take to preserve our dragonlet.”

“The current medical term is psycho-natal shifting severance. It is known historically as—”

“Shifter sickness,” Flint said and frowned.

“No,” she moaned. “That was wiped out centuries ago.”

“In the lesser families, yes, but our current matrilineal line of rulers can be traced all the way back to the last Great Expansion.”

“So the disease was preserved.” Flint squeezed Galena’s hand. “What about her half-sisters? Several of them have dragonlets. None complained of ill health.”

“They may not have known. A loss would never be publicized.” He let that rest a beat. “There is a reason that the historical term has never vanished.”

“I had never heard of it,” Flint argued.

“You are low caste and a male.”

“Yes, but—”

“I have.” She sniffed. “In whispers, from Lavendulan and the others. I didn’t know why, but it must have happened to dragons they know. Other heirs. You’re saying my mother had this and passed it on to all her dragonlets?”

“Yes.”

Flint regarded her coldly, as if this were another thing she’d kept from him.

Tears burned behind her eyes.

He returned to the medic, clipped and cold and solving problems. “What can you give her for pain?”

“We have given her saline solution. The last of the pain should already be gone from the healing.”

“She is crying from agony.”

“This, perhaps, is a pain of the heart.”

“Her heart muscle is injured?” Flint pressed.

But Galena got it. She rested Flint’s hand on her chest and sniffled, struggling to keep her chin from wrinkling and to make her voice steady. Out of all the betrayals, having and then immediately losing her dragonlet must be the worst. “Is there nothing you can do to save her?”

“Your dragonlet?” The medic regarded them with deep sympathy. “You have caught the illness early. Saving her now is up to you.”

Her heart lurched.

“Then there is something Galena can do?” Flint repeated, focused as always. “What?”

“As you know, a healthy dragonlet shifts in the womb in sync with the mother. The problem with shifter sickness is that the connection is broken. So, regardless of what the mother does, the unborn dragonlet will never shift.”

“You’re saying…”

“Your unborn dragonlet has taken human form. She will not shift again until after birth. The only way to preserve your baby is to carry her to term as a human.”

She would do it. Galena cupped her still-flat belly. Of course she would do that. To save her baby? What an easy choice.

“Galena can’t shift?” Flint repeated, unease slipping to horror. “For…how many months?”

“Seven,” the medic said. “Possibly six and a half. I have less experience measuring the terms of babies versus dragonlets, but we are gaining data from similar pregnancies on Earth.”

She focused on the medic. “Swear a vow you’ll keep this silent.”

“I will.”

“Swear.”

“By the honor of my family name, no one will know from me,” he vowed.

“Swear a blood oath, or on your firstborn dragonlet’s teeth, or…”

“I have kept many secrets for my empresses.” The medic’s aged tones were gravelly yet reassuring. “So long as you live, I am your confidant.”

That, finally, felt like a promise. “Thank you.”

He nodded sympathetically. “The problem will be how to stop from shifting intuitively. It is a common action for an empress to establish authority or, especially in the beginning of her reign, self-defense.”

“No one else must know,” Flint said. He must have turned his gaze internally and hadn’t heard anything they’d been saying for minutes.

“I will not shift by accident,” she assured the medic. “But today’s attack. I must prevent another. How can I get Linarite to protect us both without revealing the truth?”

Flint focused on her. “Then you don’t trust even Linarite?”

“Not until I know who attacked you or why. And even if I trusted her loyalty, I don’t trust her experience. She told me herself that she was concerned about making a mistake, and that lack of confidence means she has bowed to too many other authority figures.”

“You can teach her,” Flint said. “But we need a head start. Order everyone to take human form within the Palace.”

She snorted.

“You’ve already declared that you might rule on it, and even the Gentleman’s Society adviser has been seen floating the halls in human form.”

“In bad humor.”

“Declare that any dragon who violates the rule by shifting will be exiled from the Palace. Except for you, of course, and your security as needed. Cite this attack.”

She eyed him. “I almost think you’ve been planning this.”

His lips thinned, and the rims around his eyes reddened. He cleared his throat and swiped at his eyes before shaking his head. “I never planned this.”

“You didn’t assume human form all this time to make yourself a target?”

“An attack on myself was inevitable. I am a small, nondominant dragon. As a human target, I am slightly more unsettling, and taking human form was intended to give me additional time to react. In this case, it failed. An attack on you, carrying my dragonlet, and you not being able to shift, is a nightmare.”

“And you think ordering everyone to assume human form in the Palace will cause enough chaos and confusion to stop any future attacks for more than half a year?”

“So long as you remain in your chambers, in hiding, with a security team around you, yes.”

“If I go into hiding, then the advisers will take advantage of my absence like they did during the heir battles when no one was in charge.”

“Who cares?”

“Flint, they will undo everything.”

“I have spent five years plotting how to end the Colony Wars and regretting that I could not do more to protect you. Now? All that matters is getting you through this danger. We must be more careful.”

The weight of her choices gave way to a new foreboding. “If I hide away, my enemies may take it as an open invitation to bring the fight to me.”

“Then we will leave the Palace.”

“Running helps no one. And, to be honest, I haven’t created a disengagement strategy.”

“I will.”

She rested her hand on her abdomen. Two months or more along and she felt nothing, no changes but maybe a little soreness in her breasts, which she’d attributed to tiredness or Flint’s rough-sensual kisses. “Running might be wise, but if I abandon the throne without the support of the military, without control of the advisers or the five families, without an obvious successor to take over, the Empire could fracture. We wouldn’t just be fighting a war against the Colonies. We’d be fighting a war against ourselves.”

“I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for the Empire.”

“Well, good, that makes two of us.” But Flint was far too serious to be amused by her comment. “I will leave if we must. But until that last resort, I want to stay and fight.”

He found one of her hands and linked their fingers, then pressed it to his heart. “You must never get backed into a corner. All you have is a bluff.”

“That’s not all.” She squeezed his grip. “I also have you.”

But her words only made the shadows around his eyes darken.

He had a plan for everything.

But she could tell from here that he didn’t have a plan for this.

She would have to be strong enough for both of them. No, for all three of them.

Somehow.

* * *

Flint’s heart seized.

Galena snoozed softly on the silver bench. He paced the cavern.

The medic reminded him that he still had his own injuries to be tended. A few long scratches, some strains and bruising. Normally, they wouldn’t waste the materials on such minor healing, but evidently, the medic thought he might need every ounce of strength. Flint accepted the mild healing with his thoughts elsewhere.

He was the smallest and least powerful dragon on the Palace grounds, possibly on the planet.

And he had to protect Galena.

Because she could no longer protect herself.

This was a nightmare.

As soon as the last scratch sealed, he was up again, pacing.

His third sibling, Kyan, was former black ops, with the highest level of tactical and security training. He still had contacts with his old unit, but the Black Shadows were under the rule of General Ragiosa.

And Kyan was low caste. He couldn’t enter the Palace grounds. Not even on the prestige of his former rank.

Flint paced faster.

His old plan had been to bleed away the assets of the five families slowly and establish dominance over decades. The eldest advisers would die off by the time any major events reached a ruling in the full council.

He was supposed to take years to move the different businesses to Earth, not send them all in a single court ruling.

It was happening too fast, changes falling like an avalanche, and now Galena couldn’t do anything to jeopardize his dragonlet.

His dragonlet.

His heart squeezed and contracted. Even conceiving a dragonlet was supposed to take time. In some cases, years! Not on, if the medic’s timeline was to be believed, their first union.

Flint had planned for every contingency but this one.

Galena looked so tiny as a human resting on a dragon-sized recovery bench. Peaceful, but also fragile. She would fight to the death to protect him. Now, to protect their dragonlet.

And she’d looked so gray right before she’d collapsed.

He couldn’t let that happen ever again.

Ever.

He had to plan an emergency exit. How to trick, bluff, and escape any attackers that overwhelmed her security. Rioters, battle-hardened fighters, or brutal dragons Galena could have easily crushed before now had to be managed and evaded while looking natural.

If they sensed weakness, her enemies would attack. Fairness and legality would not trouble them. Might made right in the Dragon Empire, and no one would avenge her untimely death.

He needed to come up with a plan so clever, it would look like she was stepping behind a door to casually take off her gown and shift…only to disappear into the night long before anyone realized she was gone.

He would, of course, be the one to watch her back and guard her escape route.

Even though that would be his last act.

After Flint came up with a growing tree of escape routes, he trained his mind to the second, and possibly more critical, task.

Coming up with the cover story that made all this plausible.

Why she collapsed, why she couldn’t shift, and why no one else could either.

That required finesse.

Galena had gotten this far.

Flint’s mind circled the most reasonable explanation. The one that was most like her. The one most likely to be believed.

It was still unbelievable.

But it was all they had.

Could she make it be enough?

Galena woke in the quiet medic cavern aware for the first time in a long time that she hadn’t been sleeping well. This rest had been needed. And she felt pretty good, but she’d enjoy another few weeks of sleeping too, maybe while lounging with Flint somewhere relaxing, alone, like a newly mated couple with a coming dragonlet was supposed to do.

Her hand went to her belly.

Coming dragonlet.

No, baby.

She would protect her baby with all her might.

Her baby would be born strong and healthy, able to shift to dragon and back once their bodies were separated, and Galena would tell her, warn her, so she wouldn’t get surprised with her mate years down the road.

Because she would live.

Knowing that gave Galena infinite strength for whatever was needed next.

She glanced around the room more carefully. Flint had been working so hard lately, and he’d been injured as well. Hopefully, he was also sleeping…

He sat beside the bed, sleeves of a new impeccable gray shirt rolled up his forearms, matching suit jacket hanging from a mobile closet behind him. His eyes were even more lined with shadow. He must have aged ten years since becoming her consort.

“Hey.” Her word grated in her throat, and she cleared it, surprised. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A few hours.” He sounded and looked hungover from exhaustion. “You need more rest.”

“So do you.” She yawned and stretched. “I can’t remember the last time I got a full night’s sleep.”

“That will be a priority now.”

“As if we have less to do.”

“Galena. Your health is the top priority. Not just for yourself, but—”

“I know.” She hugged her belly. Even saying her state aloud made her nervous, as if someone would overhear and put her baby at risk. “Where’s the medic?”

“Resting.”

“I’m surprised no one is pounding down the caverns demanding my status.” She straightened and stretched again. “I guess that shows how alone I am.”

“There were several, including your aunt and your father, but I empowered Linarite to exclude them. The attacker carried poison, you see, and it wasn’t injected, but you were fully scanned out of an overabundance of caution.”

“Poison?”

His lips curved slightly. “A type of Outer Rim poison that melts human skin. It can only be carried into the Palace in dragon form. Enemies of the aristocracy are smuggling in masses of it.”

“Clever.”

“I’ve been told I am.”

“I suppose I’ll keep you around.” She pursed her lips. “Did you tell Linarite the truth?”

“No. Do you trust her?”

Galena felt around in her heart. Linarite was doing her best, but that wasn’t enough. “I don’t know.”

“I have constructed a scenario in which she does not need to know and yet can continue to do her job. Which is to enforce your new human-only rule in the Palace as a smart, swift, and decisive Empress who rejects sloppy vanity.”

His words energized her. He always had a plan. Even though she had plenty more questions, her trust was validated.

Galena pulled back the silky covers and used his hand to lever herself out of the stone bed. “When should I issue the ruling?”

“I like hitting my enemies when and where they least expect it.”

“My mother was famous for holding core council meetings right after her rivals retired to their sleep chambers.” Galena stretched and kept a grip on his strong hands because she felt a little woozy. The floor returned to its correct spot. “I’m ready.”

He led her to the mobile wardrobe and fitted her with an amazing dress.

Scale-like beadwork shimmered on the sheer olive-green fabric, and small winglike protrusions accented her shoulder blades. The fabric swirled around her ankles. She turned. The skirt floated out from her body like streamers of the night sky.

She rubbed the beading between curious fingers. “I’ve been wearing your robes almost every day, and I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“I saved a few for special occasions.” He adjusted the edge of her collar, then applied shimmering green color to her lids and lips.

When she blinked, her eyelids sparkled like ground emeralds. “Humans wear this all the time?”

“Not like this.” He smiled and watched her glide. “But you have a good opportunity to show off the colorful options that human form gives your rivals.”

“I might as well increase demand for Earth goods while I’m stuck in human form, huh?” She straightened her shoulders. The mirror showed a tired, fragile human in no way capable of going up against the rest of the dragons, but determined to try.

Well, with Flint, she would succeed.

Just as when she became Empress.

Galena turned away from the mirror, strode to the doorway, and lifted off, flying to the main cavern.

Linarite guarded the medic entrance.

She landed beside her beleaguered security officer. “Summon the core council.”

Linarite looked startled. “My Empress? You were so unwell.”

“Now, I am better.” Despite her meek humanity, she made her tone as inflexible as steel. “As of this time tomorrow, no one is allowed in the Palace in dragon form.”

Her security guards gaped.

Linarite abruptly shifted to human form. Her deep blue skin and eyes were set off by long dark hair. The electrical staff looked so much larger in her small human hands, but she wielded it expertly. “Yes, my Empress.”

“Who are those guards?”

“They investigated the would-be poisoner.”

“He acted alone,” the first one, a brown dragon with white and black speckles, said. “And I didn’t hear about any poison. He’s not a problem.”

“Definitely gone,” the other dragon agreed.

“Take human form,” Galena ordered. “Dragon security will also take human form unless you need to escort another dragon out.”

The males stared at her. They were either idiots or rebellious.

Normally, Galena would be simply irritated.

But now, a frisson of fear shivered down her spine.

If even these two small, arrogant, no-name guards attacked her, she would have no way to strike back.

Linarite tutted her tongue against the roof of her mouth in warning.

The two males abruptly transformed to large, buff, no-nonsense human males. In this form, they looked capable of guarding much more than archives. Galena made a quick decision.

“Station a double guard outside my quarters. Today’s attempt was only the first. They will fail again.”

“How are we supposed to guard the main quarters if we’re naked?” one muttered to the other.

Linarite hissed at them, her respectful eye only on Galena, and it was a little clearer why they weren’t stationed anywhere important.

“Requisition uniforms,” Galena snapped.

Mild smoke lifted from her nostrils in irritation.

The males jolted as though they hadn’t realized they’d be overheard. They flew away, leaving Linarite the sole guard.

Good help was hard to get.

“Requisition additional guards,” Galena told Linarite. “Ones that you can trust. Conscript them if you have to. This is only the beginning of the trouble.”

Linarite bowed her head, perfectly comfortable nude. They flew together to the core council chambers. Galena assumed her usual spot, and Linarite took her place by the door. Her familiar strength and presence was so reassuring.

The first advisers trickled into the chambers yawning and grumbling.

Galena made the announcement before all the advisers had arrived. That would teach the latecomers to tarry.

“Today, a cowardly mudrock attacked my beloved consort. The attacker squatted outside the Palace archives. No one asked his purpose. He hid in plain sight. My only regret is that I killed him too quickly. It is a mistake I will not make again.”

She snapped her human teeth.

The nearest advisers flinched.

“Because of this aggravation, all dragons in my illustrious presence will assume human form. ‘My presence’ includes the Palace, grounds, and upper mountains.”

That got everyone blinking. They rose onto all fours, fangs glistening, irises gleaming.

“You can’t be serious!” Adviser Idocrase exclaimed gruffly.

She arched a brow. “You proved it was no inconvenience.”

“It is not our noble form!”

Others muttered, equally disgusted, but the Adviser to the Palace spoke out with mild approval. “As a cost-savings measure, this ruling will reduce so much wear. Does it begin immediately?”

“By this time tomorrow, anyone in dragon form will be escorted off the Palace grounds by my security team, who are under no such restrictions.” She grinned with elongated fangs, watching more than one face contort in an uneasy grimace. “Anyone I escort will exit the grounds on fire and in pieces—like the last dragon who offended me.”

Several swallowed.

“That is all.”

Advisers rose to shout protests.

She called over them, “We will reconvene at the usual time tomorrow in human form—or you will not be allowed into the council room!”

Stunned silence gave away to shouting once more.

Linarite escorted Galena to her private chambers. She passed the rest of the night strategizing, until Flint forced her to rest and keep up her strength.

He calculated the percentage of advisers who would make a stand and refuse to shift. But, thanks to the impressive dress, a higher percentage should take her outfit as a challenge and decide to protest by looking more fabulous.

So, the next morning, Galena turned up in a deliberately demure black dress. She would stand out by not standing out. And as the advisers drifted into the meeting, her nerves ratcheted higher and higher.

Today was the test of whether Flint’s bluff would hold.

Galena assumed her place in the core council amphitheater.

Most advisers and their assistants appeared on time and in their house’s ceremonial garb, which tended toward bold colors. Some wore flashy gowns adorned with the designs of their aristocratic crests. Others draped their bodies with nothing but gemstones, or sheaths of rainbow sequins, or gauzy lingerie that set off their exotic scales. Galena had already clarified it was acceptable to show scales for fashion.

Adviser Malicia entered at the last moment.

She’d managed to make friends with a few of the smaller houses, and several of their representatives entered nude. They’d stood outside to protest, then shifted at the last moment.

Adviser Malicia herself wore a lime-green bathrobe with bright pink slippers, the official formal wear of House Ironstone.

Galena called the meeting to order. “My security team has escorted fifty dragons from the common areas. Any dragons who refuse to take human form insult me. This is the final warning.”

Her aunt delicately cleared her throat. She wore a sharp black dress with red feather accents. “No one is more thrilled than I am that you are so well and vigorous, my Empress, after the unfortunate rumors of an attack.”

“Yes, a simple nap showed me that I’ve been generously donating far too much of my precious life to the wrong voices.” She held her aunt’s gaze for a long moment, then turned to Adviser Malicia. “From now on, all meetings will end early. Advisers are allowed a single protest against any ruling. My appointee will keep the time and cut off repeats.”

Adviser Malicia stared back, her tone sharp as a blade. “How fortunate for you that the attack wasn’t more serious. Using it as an excuse to promote your senseless obsession with that backwater planet, Earth, has clouded your judgment about the important issues affecting the rest of the Empire, like the Colonies.”

Galena would murder her first.

Instead, she made a show of extending one long nail into a claw and scraping it against her teeth. “Some dragons are jealous of the luxuries I enjoy as a benefit of being pampered by my consort. That’s only proper. But because I am a generous ruler, I’ve decided to share some of these luxuries with you.”

She touched the call button on her view screen.

Palace servers bustled in with a long hover cart. They positioned it at the bottom of the amphitheater.

One server rested a small silver tray on a stand in front of Galena, bowed, and returned to the cart.

Galena opened the silver tray. All eyes were riveted on her. She lifted a large white mug labeled “Empire’s #1 Empress” and deeply inhaled the invigorating scent of the steaming dark liquid. She lifted the puffy brown ring off its porcelain plate, chewed the soft sugar-crusted dough, and washed it down with a gulp of the liquid.

She sighed in intense satisfaction. “Amazing.”

“What is that?” Pyropissite finally demanded.

“This is the human practice of a ‘coffee break.’”

Low muttering electrified the advisers.

“To incentivize the swift resolution of arguments—so no one protests simply to waste time—we will serve coffee and donuts between the first and second sessions, and again at the end of the meeting.”

Adviser Lancerious looked up. “Free coffee?”

“And donuts.”

The murmurs got louder.

Adviser Malicia jumped up in fury, sparking a mass movement as the other dragons also rose. She nearly spat in protest. “You can’t bribe us to ignore your corrupt, short-sighted, selfish demands with free coffee!”

The rest of the dragons half drowned her words as they rushed and crowded the coffee cart. Servers poured coffee into mugs and dispensed donuts. The dragons ringed the donuts on human fingers tipped with long claws to carry extras.

“Everything tastes better with human senses,” Galena called out, and the last holdouts sounded more cheerful.

“The portions look larger too,” one of them said.

Adviser Malicia glared at the crowd, lifted her chin to Galena, and sniffed. “You will not bribe me.”

Galena put on an unimpressed air. “Because of Ironstone’s close ties to Earth, ‘free’ coffee and delicacies are nothing to you. Fine. So long as you adhere to the rules being applied fairly to all dragons, I don’t care about your uninformed opinion.”

“You will care,” she snapped.

Galena extended her fingers into claws. Shifting limbs was a gray area. She at least had to keep her belly region human. “Complaining won’t earn Ironstone a better cut of the Palace’s profit.”

The female shimmered with fury. “How dare you—”

“Linarite.” Galena pointed her security officer at the female. “No coffee or donuts for Ironstone. Even though the Palace owns Earth and all its luxuries, Adviser Malicia does not want the appearance of accepting bribery.”

“My Empress,” her security officer murmured in acknowledgment.

“Inform her house. All routing of Earth luxury goods is to stop and return to the Palace. I will not be accused of offering bribes.”

Adviser Malicia protested, “That’s not what I meant.”

“You’ve reminded me how many benefits the Palace controls. I’ve been generous in what I now see was an irresponsible manner.” Galena drew herself up to her full height, with claws splayed like unnatural cutlery against her human thighs. “Let me know if you think of anything else that could be misconstrued.”

She left the adviser seething while the others jovially crowded the coffee cart.

Linarite flew with Galena, silent as a blue ghost.

Galena slowed and motioned to speak with her quietly. “Are you sure there are no ties between the attacker and House Ironstone?”

“None yet,” Linarite replied. “Probably.”

The answer did not inspire confidence.

But after that first truncated meeting, Galena managed suspicion and intrigue for weeks, and then having the whole Palace shifted to human form became normal. When needed, she badgered, threatened, insinuated, warned her enemies. She strutted, teased, and kept her allies on their toes, scales shimmering beneath their skins, uncertain of what would come out of her mouth next.

Adviser Malicia was supposed to be on their side, and Flint suggested letting her rant because she drew out enemies Galena didn’t know she had, but it was nerve-racking.

She endured because she trusted him. No matter how dangerous she considered Adviser Malicia, she trusted Flint.

Weeks later, on an evening Galena finished her business late, she flew into her private chambers and found Flint slumped over his strategy board.

Little snores emerged from his parted lips.

She tucked a stray lock of brown hair behind his ear. His breath remained slow and even, and a small bit of drool pooled at one corner of his mouth.

He worked so hard.

A slight bruise darkened one cheek.

Hmm.

Flint always kept secrets, but since her diagnosis, he’d drawn further into his private shell. She’d refused to let him roam the halls without a security escort, and that had been wise because he’d been attacked several times in the last weeks. Her guards had stopped any attackers from touching him.

When had he gotten this bruise?

A spiky, hissing ball launched at her face.

She caught her wild Kitty in the air, cooing softly. The small fierce creature savaged her hands and chest, tail switching, while Galena showered her in loving caresses. She sat on the chair opposite Flint, hugged a protesting claw-ball to her chest, and studied the strategy board.

The pieces were familiar. Galena didn’t study his board often. When he saw her looking too carefully, he usually swept it clean, saying he was only testing possibilities, and that there was no need for her to worry about an outcome that he’d never let her reach.

She studied it now, idly, while he was asleep. He had positioned Ironstone into allies and moved Palladium into a questioning zone. That seemed fair. She followed the likely movements to their conclusions. Could they still win?

Based on his current strategy board layout…no, they couldn’t.

Her chest grew cold.

They couldn’t win, and…

A fluttering sensation tickled her belly.

What was that? The baby? She covered the area with her hand.

How many weeks had passed since she’d been diagnosed? She might be down to five months. Almost halfway through.

Kitty jumped off her lap. Her claws pierced Galena’s human skin. Galena shifted the endangered area to scales automatically. A warning wave of nausea rolled over her, and she quickly shifted back.

The cold sensation deepened.

Shifting was automatic. She could not afford to get attacked, because in the heat of the moment, she would make a terrible mistake.

This brief shift had only been at skin level, but it was a terrible warning.

Was she taking too many things for granted?

Look at Flint’s board. He promised she could still win, but Flint had been wrong before.

He had assumed she’d killed Helvine. He also hinted that Galena must let him suffer for their goals. Those assumptions were wrong.

The urge to wake him grew. She had to tell him about her fears and get his reassurance.

But he needed rest even more than she did.

Galena jumped to her feet. If she stayed in these chambers any longer, she would wake him. She flew out.

Linarite quickly caught up to her. “Where to, my Empress?”

Galena slowed mid-cavern and then stopped, her human feet dangling, at a crossroads.

Her aunt and father lay down one cavern. Another path led to the open night sky. Or…

Flint didn’t know everything. Only one other dragon truly understood her.

Galena chose her path. Linarite flew beside her, silent, because it led to a destination Galena frequently visited. At this time of night, only medics and security dragons traveled these halls, and all bowed respectfully to the Empress now that they noticed her in human form.

Galena left Linarite outside and entered Helvine’s medical cavern alone.

The night medic bobbed her head respectfully, her dark hair swinging by her silver-studded ears, and left.

Galena perched beside Helvine’s bed. The sleep monitor indicated her half-sister was dozing as usual.

All patients had shifted to human form, even though Galena hadn’t intended her ruling to apply to them.

Helvine as a human wasn’t so different from Helvine as a dragon. Small, scarred across the face, and so fragile. Galena had to ball her fists to stop from hugging her tenderly.

“I need to ask you a favor,” she told her sleeping half-sister. “It’s a pretty big one. You’ve got to swear to me that if I get overthrown and you become Empress, you’ll stop the Colony Wars.”

In her sleep, Helvine’s lips curved with amused disbelief.

“It’s possible,” Galena insisted. “Just like I told you last time I visited. You remember. Well, you probably don’t, so let me tell you again.”

The sleep monitor beeped its normal rhythm.

She murmured the plan softly, taking comfort in the familiar repetition. Even though Helvine couldn’t reply, she felt like some of Helvine’s old competence rubbed off on her.

Helvine cracked her eyelids once or twice. The medic had explained such reactions meant nothing until her brain waves were stable. Her reactions had unsettled Galena at the beginning, but now she ignored them.

“You have to promise,” Galena finished, staring at the sleep monitor despite Helvine’s increasingly awake-looking behavior. “Because if I die from shifter sickness, you’re the only one who could see this through.”

“Shifter sickness?”

Galena jumped.

Helvine’s eyes opened wide and clear. She focused on Galena for the first time since her injury.

Galena jumped to her feet. “You’re awake!”

“You’re sick.” Helvine’s bitter tone stopped Galena from summoning the night medic. “Diseased. Unworthy. But you were never worthy to be Empress. That’s why you had to steal it from me with betrayal.”

Galena’s stomach plunged to her feet.

The view screen still showed sleep patterns on brain waves.

Because it wasn’t connected to a patient. It was a default screen.

Helvine had been awake for some time.

She’d lulled Galena into a trap.

Galena held out her palms. “I never wanted to betray you. You said you wanted to end the Colony Wars, but you wouldn’t consider how.”

“Because it’s impossible. No one will ever stop fighting. Strong dragons don’t help the weak.” Her sunken eyes lowered to the bed between them. “Look where they end up.”

“I swear to you, I never intended—”

“And you incubated a disease. Weakness of the lineage hides in your genetic core.”

Galena took a step back.

The hatred and bitterness in Helvine’s jagged face made her almost unrecognizable.

“You’ll never get away with the damage you’ve done,” Helvine spat. “To me, to the Colonies, to the Empire. When they find out you’re passing on shifter sickness, they’ll—”

“All the heirs have it.”

Helvine’s mouth dropped. She glanced to the side as though debating something, then she looked back, refusal and rebellion stamped across her features. “You lie.”

“There are records.”

“I didn’t.”

“You didn’t know. But they have records. Empress Horribus had it. Her mother. If you expose the truth, it also exposes you.”

Helvine straightened in the bed, made fists, and shrieked at Galena. “I am the victim! You betrayed me. You’ve lied and betrayed everyone! I won’t listen to your lies. I’ll never understand!”

“Helvine—”

“And I’ll never forgive you!”

“Hel—”

“Get out!” She screeched, and slammed her balled fists on the bed, her face and chest turning red with exertion, tears of frustration streaming down her wrecked cheeks. “Get out, get out, get out!”

Galena stumbled back. “Medic!”

Medics swarmed Helvine, trying to calm her and administer sedatives while she screamed. Galena floated backward out of the room.

Helvine’s husband lingered in the doorway, first avoiding and then forcing himself to meet Galena’s eye.

“My Empress,” he murmured deferentially, his jaw tight. In human form, he wore a silver bathrobe that showed his broad pectorals dusted with gray chest hair.

“How long has she been off the monitors?” she asked him, suspicious and yet unable to fully process that her mentor had come awake and turned on her. She felt betrayed…the way Helvine must have once felt when Galena had done the same.

“Since this morning,” he said. “Don’t be angry with her. She’s still not herself. The treatments are continuing.”

“Have they upgraded her condition?”

“Every treatment is two steps forward, one step sideways. So, yes, she is a strong fighter and will regain her full control sometime, but that Helvine will be different from the graceful female we both knew and I loved.”

Galena’s heart hurt.

He spoke eloquently and quietly of the pain he nursed day in and day out for the loss of his partner, the mother of his dragonlet, the female he had expected to grow old with.

Would she speak as calmly after something happened to Flint?

She asked the question that choked her. “Should I have let her die?”

He turned and faced her fully. His eyes narrowed and then widened. Whatever gentleness had passed between them in the previous moment was erased. “Don’t you think I’m the last dragon you can ask that question?”

Because Galena had betrayed Helvine. She was the reason Helvine was like this now. He had every reason to want to attack her every time she came close, and yet, he held back.

She mumbled an apology.

“Let her rest,” he replied blandly, as if the other exchange had never happened. “Maybe give her a little time to recover before your next visit.”

Galena flew down the cavern. Her head pounded, and her eyes burned.

Aunt Realgar passed her entering the cave. “Is Helvine all right? I heard she had a relapse.”

In human form, her aunt’s long black hair was divided by gray streaks. Her height matched her dragon’s angularity, with square proportions, and she wore another black dressing gown with a crimson fringe.

“I upset her,” Galena answered honestly, rattled by the husband. “I, ah, said something I shouldn’t have. Is her memory okay? Is she going to forget?”

“It depends.” Her aunt watched Galena closely as though trying to read which answer Galena wanted to hear. “If she must remember, I can work with her.”

“No, no. It’s something that she’d better forget.”

“The Palladium family is very discreet. That’s why for generations, empresses and generals have come from our family line. And Helvine, in her current isolation, has no one to tell anything to but trusted family.”

“I meant for her sake.”

The horror on Helvine’s face after Galena had accused her of having the sickness meant a memory had emerged, some doubt long ago ignored or repressed.

Did every heir suffer from shifter sickness, or was it more complicated?

Jasmundite was Helvine’s first dragonlet, but she’d shifted carelessly during her pregnancy, so either Galena had spoken wrongly and she didn’t suffer from it, or she’d had an earlier pregnancy end prematurely. Instead of approaching the sad possibility with kindness, Galena had thrown it in Helvine’s face in the cruelest way.

Her aunt looked even more curious.

But Galena wouldn’t subject Helvine to any more pain now. She begged off and flew directly back to her private caverns. Linarite flew an appropriate, confidential distance behind her, guarding her return.

Inside her private chambers, Flint yawned awake, then winced and rubbed his neck. “You’re back.” He squinted at the direction of the chronometer. “Late.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” She collapsed in his second aluminum chair, where she’d sat only a short time earlier. If only she hadn’t left! She tried to focus on his board. “So, what do you think? Are we going to win?”

“Maybe.” He knitted his fingers and stared at the board. “Maybe…”

She couldn’t summon her usual mirth. “It was only ever a long shot anyway. Anyone who heard our plan would tell us we were crazy.”

He lifted both brows in agreement and regret while blowing air out through his pursed lips. Then he straightened and clapped his hands on his knees. “So long as you can keep bluffing our enemies, we’ll win.”

She tried to return his positive smile.

She tried to stay calm.

She tried not to feel the crushing wave of guilt and anxiety.

His gaze snagged on the little crumples around her chin. She could never hide from him. “What?”

A sob shuddered in her chest. “I’m sorry, Flint.”

He flew to her in an instant and wrapped her in his warm, sheltering hug. “You’re all right. We’re all right. We’re going to be fine. No one knows.”

Guilt poured over her like a deluge.

Flint was the only one she could trust. As an Empress, making a mistake like this could be fatal. Not just for herself.

She confessed the truth. “Someone knows!”

And someone would pay the consequences.

Flint held Galena tightly as she broke beneath his fingers.

She’d been under too much stress. Their tactics to reduce friction—introduce the coffee break, apply pressure to Adviser Malicia so she couldn’t act out—had worked to a point, but no dragon could endure this stress forever. He studied the strategy board over Galena’s shoulder.

“I told Helvine,” she sobbed. “I told her everything.”

His chest froze over.

He heard the ice in his words. “What do you mean, you told her? I thought she was insensate with a head injury.”

“She is. Was. I mean, she had flashes of awareness, nothing permanent.” Galena pulled back. Tears tracked dust stains down her cheeks.

He rubbed them with both palms. “But?”

“She came out of it this morning.”

“And she’s making permanent memories? You’re sure?”

Galena nodded. “I told her everything. I mean, I’d already told her all our plans, but—”

“Before her injury she dismissed you. Now…”

“She would have remembered eventually.” She sniffled. “You told me I couldn’t keep her as a friend, and you were right.”

He was right.

All the worst times, he was right.

“You don’t know how often I hate hearing that.” He took a deep breath and let it out.

Galena let out her own breath at the same time, and they sighed in unison. “She’ll never forgive me. If she gets the chance, she’ll overthrow me. I’d feel the same way if our situations were reversed. And if she tried, I can’t answer her challenge.”

This was his fault.

He hadn’t provided Galena with the support she needed.

On top of everything, an enraged former favorite for Empress knew all their plans. He tried to spin it. “Even after her mental recovery, she must complete the physical recovery. And she lost to you in peak health. She can’t challenge you right away. Her allies won’t let her.”

“So long as she doesn’t tell them about my illness.”

Chilling cold returned.

Galena was so fragile as a human. How did the non-shifters on Earth survive? He had to get her out of the dragon’s den. Go to Earth, go anywhere but here.

But she would be at risk everywhere.

And the Empress couldn’t just fly away. He’d run the simulations hundreds of different ways. Even though he wanted her to just run, he now accepted that she couldn’t. Her enemies would fly after her until she was dead. They had to. A contender couldn’t be crowned until the previous Empress was confirmed dead. Empress Horribus’s year-long disappearance had proved the rule.

Galena couldn’t just disappear.

She turned to him. “Flint, I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I wanted to be Empress, but now I can’t defend you or my baby. My security team is too small. I’d sacrifice anything to make sure you two were safe.”

The same weight rested on his shoulders.

He rubbed her back. “You’ve already done so much. You’re amazing. We just have to endure for a few more months. You’ll have your baby. There are probably no minerals in a million miles beyond Earth space, anyway.”

“Yeah.” She sank into the chair again and gestured at his unfinished strategy board. “This doesn’t look good.”

“It is one of many possible projections…”

He trailed off while his brain reeled with the new information.

A quick pulse of anger punched his chest. He wanted to grab her arms and scream at her, Don’t you know how dangerous it is to tell anyone, much less your brain-damaged rival?!

Galena made few missteps. This was just such a big one.

Or perhaps this was an example of that human condition, pregnancy brain, which apparently caused human females a variety of unclear-thinking problems. As Galena was now stuck in her human form, she might be subject to rarely noticed human pregnancy conditions, such as telling her brain-damaged rival their plans for unseating the power base of the Empire.

And yet, she would probably still reject his top suggestion to murder Helvine before anyone else learned the secret.

He wasn’t a murderer either, but the safety of his mate and his unborn dragonlet was at stake.

Flint focused on the cold, logical outlay of the strategy board. “If we ignore the Colony Wars for five years, this is my estimate for the state of the Empire. Your rule is secure.”

“But the Colony Wars get worse. Look at those warships building up. That’s the opposite of peace.”

“Yes, because this model also assumes that we discover resources beyond Earth’s space, but the companies we sent there are pulled back to Draconis so we can’t harvest them.”

She stared at the board. “So when resources are found, we have to act.”

“Not necessarily.”

“But your board—”

“Galena.” He took her hands, which were unusually cool between his fingers. “There have always been a hundred enemies in our path, a thousand ways things could change, and a million tiny variables to alter our plans. I pledged to end the Colony Wars in our lifetime. That’s fifty or a hundred years of your rule. Several things shortened the timeline. The demand for Earth luxuries was higher and their uptake was faster than projected, Empress Horribus passed sooner, and the upheaval at Ironstone happened in a fraction of the time I originally forecast. This? Changes nothing in the overall scheme.”

“Unless we have a unique opportunity to end the Colony Wars now, and lose it by delaying.”

“Impossible.”

“Something drastic could change by the end of my lifetime.” She withdrew and rested her hands on her belly glumly. “My lifetime could be a lot shorter than I thought.”

Fear clenched his chest. “I won’t let that happen.”

“Neither will I.” She studied the board. “Walk me through the scenarios.”

“There are too many. I’ll bore you. Anyway, you should rest.”

She eyed him. Her skin was almost gray with exhaustion. “I want to know.”

“We’ve been over the generalities.”

“What about the specifics?”

“It will take a long time, and you really must get to sleep, or else you’ll make another misstep.”

Frustration pinched her mouth. She studied the board again, then sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I have always trusted you.”

“Because I’m never wrong.” He helped her up and led her to the bedchamber to sleep nestled in the fluffiest blankets. “Just momentarily recalculating.”

She smiled at that and let out a huge sigh, then gazed up at the carved rock. “I kept going back to Helvine. I was stupid.”

“You are in need of allies.”

The smile deepened with a spark of her usual amusement. “That’s a kind way of glossing over my stumble.”

He tilted his head, stretched out beside her to tuck her in. Once she fell asleep, he would study the board.

Her mistake added one more factor. One more piece to move around. Helvine was already on the board, as well as his guesstimate of her resources.

“Helvine called me idealistic.” Galena studied the low bedchamber ceiling. “I had a fantasy she would wake up to the sound of my voice, hear my plan—really hear it instead of dismissing me without even listening as she did before—and then understand why I’d done everything and forgive me. And that was…that was…”

“Idealistic,” he supplied.

“In the extreme.” She stroked his cheek. Her gaze softened to silver glimmering over black. “Can we overcome this? Along with me not being able to shift?”

He rested his head against her cool hand. “Yes.”

“Even if resources beyond Earth are discovered tomorrow? And the council rebels the next day? And I have to stop a coup led by my own father?”

“If resources are discovered tomorrow, we’ll suppress the news as long as possible. You will refuse to call a council meeting. And your father will be stopped by the military. Local military, I mean, not the units gathered by General Ragiosa.”

“And if we miscalculate?”

“Then you will escape, deliver our child safely, and retake the throne.”

“You have a plan for that?”

“I do.”

She sobered. “Will you share it with me?”

“When it’s not nearly morning, yes.”

“So long as you share it with me in person, and not via an ‘in the untimely event of my death’ recording.”

“Noted.”

She frowned. “Have I ever given you the impression that I dislike your voice?”

“Since I was your tutor?” He nudged her with his nose, reminding her of the way she’d rolled her eyes and dismissed him with a yawn during their first few so-called lessons.

“Since then.”

“I try not to give you a reason.”

“I think that’s a mistake.”

Her verbal jab was hard and sharp, and he struggled to reconcile it with her soft tone. “You think I’m wrong?”

“Don’t be afraid of sharing yourself with me, Flint. You’re not boring. You never were.”

“Younger Galena disagreed.”

“Younger Galena was bored by every tutor. You saw through my posing, so you were actually interesting.”

“Because you are the smartest dragon I’ve ever met, and I have met some dragons who considered themselves very smart. Most of them wish I would talk less, not more.”

Galena studied him for a long moment, and then tugged him to her and touched his mouth with her lips.

He responded, exhaustion swept away by hunger. His cock hardened, ready to pleasure her. He paused. “You need sleep.”

“Give me a nightcap.”

He relented and pleasured her in the most gentle, devoted, loving way he knew how. It was uneven because he still struggled with control.

All his fantasies of endless hours of teasing, licking, consuming her gave way to unstoppable desperate need, as if she could be ripped away from him, and he had to love her right this moment with all his might. He lost his senses, barely able to hear her needy moans, barely able to see her rising arched back or taste the salt of her slick skin.

He wanted to pleasure her thoroughly with all the art of a master, all the finesse of a patient lothario, all the skill of a Casanova. But instead, she clamped on to him and desperately whispered his name while writhing, bucking her hips, grinding his cock deep into her and shuddering with release an instant before he followed—and he’d lost. He came to like a deep-sea diver surfacing, suddenly aware that he’d embarked on a passion guided only by their bodies, with no art or seduction, only raw hunger. He was food, and she was starving; she was life, and he was dying; they clung to each other with tight need that no intellection could worm between.

Someday…

He traced the curve of her breast, swelling with the changes in her body, the new life she was growing inside. Someday, he would overcome this desperation. They would love each other like old friends who had all the time in the universe.

So long as they could make it through the next months, then someday…

Linarite’s hail woke them. “Please contact me for news.” She immediately clicked off.

He disentangled himself from Galena. Morning was already here, and he’d never gone back to the strategy board. Another night wasted.

They rose and dressed, ate a quick breakfast, and then Galena called Linarite on the view screen.

“Adviser Malicia demands a full meeting of the council,” Linarite told them from the main security area.

Galena rested her hand on her belly. The growing curve was visible if anyone knew what they were looking at. “We have a core meeting scheduled. Why the full?”

“She didn’t leave an official answer.” Linarite glanced at her handheld screen. “But based on her conversation with House Zeolite, it’s to do with Space Voyages Inc. finding an asteroid field of rare arcetonium and stellarium, as well as mapping out several more areas of interest beyond Earth.”

Galena pivoted to Flint. “Why would she know about that before we do?”

The answer made him vaguely ill. “You don’t control military channels beyond Draconis. General Ragiosa hasn’t turned over those relays yet. The commercial relays route through Ironstone-controlled space.”

“Is that something we didn’t think of?”

“We did.”

“Last night, you said—”

“I…” Last night, he’d ignored unsettling details. “Suppressing the information was never really an option.”

She blanched, more silver than black, and her scales moved over her arms. “Then what is an option?”

“Reject the full council meeting.”

Linarite cleared her throat. She was the security officer, not a parliamentarian, but she had grown up in the Palace. “Adviser Malicia did mention something about forcing a quorum. It might be better if my Empress boldly called the meeting rather than giving the appearance of being reluctantly dragged to one.”

“Thank you.” Galena tapped her lips. Her gaze focused on Flint and his strategy board. “My father’s not in residence. If I call it immediately, I don’t give him time to organize. … But that also doesn’t give me time to increase security.”

Linarite’s irises flared dark blue. “We will protect you, my Empress.”

“Okay. That’s the best we can do. Call the meeting immediately.” She closed the connection and sorted through her outfits. “Adviser Malicia is my worst nemesis. And we’re on the same side!”

“She has an alternate—wrong—theory for how to end the wars.”

“If allies can’t work together, what hope do we have of surviving enemies?” Her gaze fixed on Flint as she changed dresses. “I will put down Adviser Malicia and this ridiculous rebellion using whatever methods necessary. Contact Ironstone’s matriarch and force her to recall Adviser Malicia.”

“We don’t need to go that far.”

“Flint.” Galena fastened her top. “You said we would be fine so long as this exact meeting wasn’t called. It’s been called.”

“Yes, but Adviser Malicia’s heartfelt rebellion has nowhere to go.” He sounded cool and logical, even though his heart raced and his stomach churned. This could all be solved with quick thinking. Somehow, the world had to conform to Flint’s plan. “In the worst case, she calls for you to be forced down as Empress. But who steps up? The other heirs are not in the Palace.”

“That you know about.” Galena frowned at his depressing strategy board. “Work on a backup plan.”

He gripped her shoulder. “If you’re that worried about a coup, I’ll come with you.”

“No. You can’t fight my battles.”

“I can fight them better than you.”

“We both know why that’s not true.” She turned away from the strategy board. “Plan for the worst. Rebellion, traitors, my father catching us by surprise.”

“I have a plan.”

“Then prepare to execute it.”

“Galena. Trust me.”

She returned his pleading gaze with mistrust. It stabbed him in the heart. She didn’t think he was smart enough, not really, not to overcome this.

But instead, she asked softly, “What would you have me do, right now, if my enemies produce a rival?”

“There’s no one,” he insisted. “Even if Helvine could stand upright, which she can’t, she wouldn’t dare challenge you. Your security could bring her down. Even I could defeat her.”

“Flint.”

“It’s impossible! I’m telling you—”

She stopped him by putting her hand over his mouth. “Have you considered this scenario or not?”

He spoke under her hand, muffled. “Of courf I hab.”

“Good.” She released him and rearranged her dress one more time. “And to be clear, it’s not you I mistrust. It’s me.”

“You’ve survived a hundred more difficult encounters.”

“With lower stakes.” She rubbed her belly. “Even a skilled dragon can make a mistake.”

“Let me come.”

“You need to prepare.” She patted the luxuries trunk. “At least pack.”

He watched her fly from the room, a thousand emotions gushing through him.

The strategy board called.

He swept the board and placed all his pieces, linking the connections, and studied.

A coup was impossible.

Even if Galena lost her mind and said all the wrong things and the entire council rebelled, they couldn’t unseat her. Not right now.

Reassurance flooded in.

He hadn’t spent five years threading a needle by making wild guesses and landing on luck. He really was that smart. He was…

Just for the sake of argument, though, he placed another piece on the board. A rival, any rival, who could be held up as a viable Empress.

A new shape snapped into focus.

His chest went cold.

Because there was one possible outcome.

One inconceivable, horrible, yet undeniable possibility.

Galena had warned him. He’d refused. Because it would mean his enemies were as smart as he was—and just as lucky.

If they had a viable rival and Galena failed to put down the mild rebellion, the entire Empire could turn against her.

Her enemies could march on the Palace.

And then?

Bloodbath.

Galena stood in front of the half-empty amphitheater where she had chosen Flint for her consort and failed.

Hard.

“This situation is completely expected,” she assured the patchy council, trying to shrug off the strange feeling of smallness. Empty tiers of stone, grim faces garbed in human dress, and the distant low-caste dragons wheeling overhead cast sinister shadows on the sand. “The Empire is vast and ever-growing. Of course new resources will be discovered, and the mining rights will be apportioned fairly.”

She braced herself for questions.

Dissatisfied rumblings followed that weak nonpromise, as expected. She focused on Adviser Malicia, then her father’s empty tier. Lavendulan hadn’t attended.

A dragon from a small house shouted about a conspiracy.

Galena raised her hands and roared, “Quiet!”

The slight shift of her throat made her feel a little green. The sickness must be increasing. It was a warning to her that the more she shifted, the more she risked her baby.

She swallowed. Do not throw up. And never do that again. She called on the unfamiliar matriarch. “What is your question?”

“Isn’t it your plan to give the resources and technology to the genetically recessive non-shifters on Earth that you’re so obsessed with so you can start the Colony Wars on another front?”

Galena’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“You’re obsessed with Earth! You took that consort, sent our best businesses there, and now you’re forcing everyone in the Palace to be human. Isn’t it your plan to destroy dragon heritage by spreading the non-shifter genes, crushing dragons, and making non-shifters our overlords?”

That was something she had never thought of. “No.”

“You hesitated!”

“Because your question is insane.”

“It’s not insane if it’s true!”

Adviser Malicia gave the strange dragon an odd look and stood. “Empress!”

“House Ironstone.”

Adviser Malicia floated above the ground in her pink bathrobe with fluffy bunny slippers. “Are you going to leave the newly discovered resources unharvested?”

“No, dragons will mine them. Space Voyages Inc. can rebuild operations right away, and so they will be more easily able to take commissions.”

Her lips flattened. “So you’ll mine them and increase your personal wealth while ignoring the real suffering of dragons in the ongoing Colony Wars.”

“Ending the Colony Wars is my top priority!”

“Which you clearly show by ignoring General Ragiosa and focusing all your attention on a backwater on the edge of the Empire.”

“That is part of the plan.”

“Do you think we’re stupid?” Adviser Malicia puffed her chest, chin high, and for once commanded the undivided attention and support of her peers. “How in the universe is a backwater like Earth your so-called ‘plan’ for ending the Colony Wars?”

Galena knew not to link Earth to the Colony Wars. But due to tiredness or distraction, she had.

Of course it looked improper. The dragon method of resolving conflict was to attack with decisive might. Flint’s plan was the opposite. Even though Galena didn’t know every potential detail Flint had considered, explaining the broad strokes would not only take more time than the advisers would give her, it would fly in the face of all dragons understood.

She hedged. “The new resources will allow us to build ships to conquer more space.”

“We don’t need more space,” Adviser Malicia said.

Other dragons agreed with rumbles and growls.

“We can’t control the space that’s rightfully ours,” another dragon cried.

“Zeolite will not flee to a backwater when the Colonists try to burn the Palace,” another dragon rumbled.

“Calm down,” Galena started. “No one is compromising the Empire.”

“You’re compromising the Empire!”

Galena shouted over the outraged dragons, but she could not shift and bellow. The smallest crackle of smoke in her hair made her stomach flip over. She stood in her exposed position, forcing herself not to react, to look bored and irritated, while the elites of Draconis snarled in fury.

The younger and less controlled representatives jabbed accusations without listening for her reply. But even calm dragons like the Adviser to the Palace did not look impressed.

Galena had to regain control.

It was going to hurt.

She braced, held her belly in both hands protectively, and hunched her shoulders.

Her massive black dragon wings erupted out of her back and spread in a giant, dominant embrace.

The outcry increased and then abruptly died as everyone realized the one breaking her human-only rule was her.

Nausea bobbed in the back of her throat.

She swallowed it down and raised her arms, a commanding presence, to speak. “You asked how I planned to end the Colony Wars. New profit will bring greater stabilization to the Empire. We will decisively end the Colony Wars so that all dragons can rise up, low caste and aristocrat, and pursue a destiny beyond the limits of our dreams.”

Her ringing speech echoed across the sand and dissipated into the night.

Her aunt raised one claw.

“House Palladium,” Galena called, folding her wings. The nausea abated.

“I know you are doing exceptionally well with your responsibilities as the new Empress,” Aunt Realgar said, bowing slightly with her compliment. “With a Scholar as a consort, it is the rest of us who need to understand. How can we enter another great age of exploration when we are still at war?”

Galena waited for the nuance that would guide her to give a smart response. Her aunt had always helped before whenever Galena had ventured too far into problematic territory.

Aunt Realgar raised a sculpted black brow, indicating her question was finished.

But she couldn’t be finished, because that would mean she was rousing everyone to hotter anger instead of cooling—

“How irresponsible!” Pyropissite harrumphed. “You want to gallivant around like a dragonlet, beyond the reach of a backwater planet such as Earth, while that disgusting Colony rebel leader, Coltan, sends his crude enemies to our very Palace.”

“We are still paying off the last restoration,” the Adviser to the Palace reminded everyone.

“And slowly!”

Adviser Malicia rose with the support of her group. “We must invest all in the war until the threat is gone and we are triumphant.”

“As we deserve to be,” another adviser said.

Galena stared at her aunt.

Aunt Realgar stared back, innocent, as though waiting for her answer.

Galena set that confusion aside and focused on putting down the unrest. “I have just explained that we will reinvest the profits in the Empire before we expand—”

“Profiteering,” Adviser Malicia sniffed. “All profit for House Palladium.”

“House Palladium is not profiteering,” Aunt Realgar said snippily. “Let the Empress answer the question.”

“I have answered the question,” Galena said. “We’ll expand after the Empire is secured. They are not mutually exclusive.”

But the rest disagreed with her. Loudly.

“You’re opening us to Coltan,” someone cried. “You’ll have the Palace overrun!”

“I’m opening the way to a new age of prosperity,” she snapped.

Adviser Idocrase puffed from his large green bathrobe. “Which we won’t be able to enjoy, because we’ll all be hooked on Earth luxuries and weak when the Colony dragons overrun us.”

“I am building an alliance through trust and de-escalation—”

“How can that be?” Adviser Nepharia of House Corundum demanded. “You wanted to send more troops to General Ragiosa. And warships.”

Adviser Malicia sneered. “Don’t you remember? They were diverted to Earth because of greed for coffee and donuts.”

“No.” Galena had to get them back on her side, and she also had to contain her frustration at her aunt for throwing her into more trouble instead of helping calm it. “That’s not true.”

“We are at risk!”

“I don’t understand any risk,” Galena continued. “No risk here. No.”

There was a momentary lull, and her aunt said, “Helvine, with her military background, would have understood the risk and put the Empire first.”

Anger flared. “Yes? Well, Helvine isn’t here. I am.”

A sudden gasp made everyone stare behind her and fall quiet.

Galena turned to follow their gazes.

On the stage behind her, Helvine floated from the Palace’s private entrance. Orange silk hung limply from her gaunt form. Scales shimmered under her pale skin, and she swallowed as if she was feeling the same nausea that afflicted Galena.

But it was like seeing a ghost.

Helvine looked around with apparent comprehension when only a short time ago the medics had suggested she might never recover enough to hover.

Shock rippled through the advisers.

It rippled through Galena.

Helvine looked on the council for a long moment as if she was going to address them as she had the last time she’d stood on this stage. Galena almost found herself yielding.

The need to protect her dragonlet stopped her.

She spoke over the murmurs to Helvine. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Helvine stared at her with dark loathing.

“Yes, she should.” Aunt Realgar’s voice cracked from the audience. “Don’t you remember? You declared her your second-in-command when you took the throne. I assumed that’s why you visited her regularly?”

That…was true, but because Galena had always hoped Helvine would come to her side. Galena covered her gaffe. “I meant from a health perspective.”

Aunt Realgar crossed the amphitheater stone to Helvine’s side. “Helvine is fully capable of taking on the responsibilities of the Empire. Come, take your place…” She guided Helvine to the correct seat for her rank.

Awed supporters flocked around, some with tears in their eyes, and they spontaneously formed a respectful silent line passing by in recognition.

Galena watched. How could she protest without looking petty? Helvine’s recovery was remarkable. She had been a very beloved heir and deserved the honor.

After everyone returned to their places, Adviser Idocrase called out, “Perhaps the former heir to the Empire would say a few words…?”

“Speech!” others chimed in. “Speech!”

“No,” Galena cautioned, hands up to quell them. “Let her rest. She isn’t well.”

“I am well enough.” Helvine’s voice was more gravelly than before, and her tongue sharper, as she faced the upper tiers. “My friends. You supported me with faith and loyalty. Thank you for awaiting the day I would return to these hallowed dragon halls. My trust in you has been rewarded.”

The dragons stilled with respect.

“During my unfortunate absence, many things have changed. I no longer lead you. But hear me: talk of exploration or defense is premature. General Ragiosa has not pledged the Empire’s might to our new leader. Without the strong support of the military, the Palace, no, the very heart of the Empire is in danger. Not only from our enemies, but from within. Gaining military control would be my first act as Empress.”

Helvine turned to Galena with the blackest of black glares. “But I am not Empress now.”

Everyone turned and stared at Galena.

Her stomach rolled.

Now was the moment she needed to decisively reestablish control.

Galena flared her wings to their largest capacity. She reminded everyone that she was Empress, and—

Bile erupted up her throat.

Oh, no.

She clamped her mouth shut.

Burning acid pressed against her cheeks. Her body convulsed as she struggled to hold her form. Spreading her wings was working. The advisers stared at her with respect and waited for her to reply with a scathing yet intelligent rebuttal…

But if she opened her mouth, she would spray bile everywhere.

Then she would look like the dragon afflicted with illness instead of Helvine.

Dizziness hit her. A wave of unstoppable heat rolled up her body. Her throat choked. Her nose burned.

She couldn’t hold her dragon wings.

Galena whirled, coughing and choking out the bile as she turned away, striving to disguise her explosion as a haughty dismissal. She stumbled from the stage. Her wing tips banged the side of the private tunnel. She dropped them, retracting them so the shredded remnants of the back of her dress fluttered against her spine.

A great gasp filled the amphitheater behind her.

Then, outrage.

Linarite paced her and dispersed the other security dragons to block anyone from following. “Medical bay is—”

“No.” Galena lifted in human form and flew, her dress hem slapping her ankles as she fled to her private chambers.

She had to reach Flint. He would know what to do.

“Should a medic meet you?” Linarite asked, flying beside her.

“I want—”

Whoosh.

A crackle of flames erupted to Galena’s right.

She leaped above the superheated flames and flipped to face her enemy.

A female who had snuck in as a human shifted to a deadly turquoise dragon. She followed her flame attack with razor claws.

Linarite intercepted the claws with a high, sharp war cry. Dark blue scales poured over her skin. She elongated out of her gold robes into a dangerous armed dragon with fangs and claws.

The attacker shoved Linarite back and drew in a breath. Her throat and chest glowed red.

Linarite whacked her with the electrified end of her gold staff.

The dragon rattled and lost her fire in a puff of smoke.

Behind her, another human shifted to dragon and tracked on Galena.

“Fly!” Linarite dove at the new attacker. “I will protect you!”

Flames whooshed after Galena.

She fled their heat. The hem of her dress smoked.

Linarite battled both attackers, effectively holding them back.

Galena poured on the speed, hurtling through the caverns, alone and unprotected.

Cries rose behind her.

New foes?

She reached her chambers. Where were the guards she’d left to protect Flint? She dove into their private cavern.

Flint stood over a smoking corpse.

She pulled up. “Flint!”

He jerked and aimed a long cylindrical weapon at her. Their eyes locked. He dropped the weapon with a clatter and sagged in relief. “You’re unharmed.”

“What was that?”

“Flamethrower.” He kicked the smoking corpse. “And one of the guards who knew I don’t chew brimstone candy.”

“You survived.” Galena dove into his arms. “We’re under attack. Linarite protected me, but the guards know my escape routes.”

“They don’t know everything. This way.” He abandoned the partially packed case, kept hold of her arm, and flew into the public caverns.

“Linarite fought off two females,” Galena told him. Her heart pounded, but the caverns they flew through seemed oddly unhurried. No alerts had gone out, either because the system had been suppressed, or because no one loyal to her was left to sound an alert. “They know I’m ill. They have to.”

“Or else they would never have attacked you so openly,” he finished her thought. “And let me guess: Helvine attended your council meeting.”

“You heard!”

“I extrapolated.”

He dove out the Dragon Gate.

No one looked at the two humans. In the crowded open air, they moved with even more anonymity.

Dragons soared over, around, nearly through them. She erupted in a furious growl. Flint tucked her to his chest like a fragile dragonlet and skillfully evaded the most aggressive, unruly males before she could explode and draw attention.

“All this time, I thought that we had confused our enemies, but I now believe they knew our plans and waited to entrap us.” He rotated as he flew, spinning her in a soothing motion. “If you had been more reckless, I would have ignored the danger. Our enemies would have surprised me. Once I was gone…”

“I would have been on my own, grieving, and vulnerable.” She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on Flint’s very solid, very alive shoulder. “We were overconfident.”

“It’s hard not to be when a decade-long plan comes together in a few short months.” He stroked her bare back under the fabric shreds. “But our enemies made mistakes too.”

“Who do you suspect? Adviser Malicia?”

“Alex assures me the Ironstone matriarch is loyal to our cause. Adviser Malicia couldn’t act alone, and anyway, she claims the moral high ground. She would never lower herself to sneak attacks.”

“My father, then?”

“An attack from your house is more likely.” He dove to the commercial shipping port entrance. “But removing me would hardly help him to control you. You’re not even sure he wanted to take Earth, just that he guessed our intentions and assumed.”

“Everything’s always about him. I’m too maverick, too strange thinking, too bright when the situation calls for dark. He said I wouldn’t last a day, and then I wouldn’t last a year…”

And now they were fleeing an assassination attempt.

She sighed. “Maybe he was right.”

“Don’t.” Flint’s arm tightened around her back. “Don’t doubt yourself.”

“Well, Flint, be honest. We failed.”

“Not yet.”

“Are we fleeing the planet right now, or are you surprising me with a pleasure cruise along the ice rivers?”

“Our enemies are powerful enough to hide assassins in the guards assigned to your very cavern, so they are certainly powerful enough to prevent an alarm from going off until they know what’s happened. That gives us time to regroup and bring our own attack. I’ve considered every step of this escape plan. So long as nobody realizes exactly how we’ve left the Palace, we have the element of surprise—”

“You there!” A lumpy blue dragon with a yellow sheen over his scales forced them to stop. “That’s right. You’re not getting past without getting inspected, you low-caste, Outer Rim courier male.”

Of all the times to be stopped by a port inspection!

Flint tried to calm his reaction. He was still running high and hot from the sudden attack in Galena’s private chambers.

He’d known. The way the compromised guard had interrupted his packing, her tone when she’d said her entry was routine, and the look she’d cast around the chamber had put Flint on his guard.

It had been a simple matter to appear to be absorbed with a view screen while his hands were busy in the trunk unboxing and assembling the flamethrower. A flamethrower he’d brought to amuse Galena as a human toy, one he’d never expected to need to use on a deadly guard who’d suddenly come at him with her own flames.

Now, a self-important oaf floated between Flint and his plan to restore Galena to her throne.

He shouldn’t have dropped the flamethrower.

“What’s this?” Galena growled, picking up on his agitation. Her nails retracted, and the tips of her claws pierced her skin.

“Don’t show anger,” he murmured, mostly for himself. “Don’t cause more attention. Everyone knows your face. I’ll get us through.”

“Stop talking, or I’ll make you stop!” Inspector Evansite shouted.

Flint placed himself in front of Galena. “We carry nothing, Inspector Evansite.”

“Then why aren’t you flying through the common gate, low caste?” the inspector snarled. “I’ll put you and your accomplice on the next flight to deep space.”

“What will it take for you to forget you saw us?”

“And attempting to bribe an inspector!” Inspector Evansite laughed heartily. “The Empress’s consort will condemn you to servitude.”

“Just one swipe,” Galena muttered from behind Flint. “One little well-placed flame.”

“Shh.” Flint calculated quickly. “Our cover’s not blown yet.”

The inspector’s junior aide darted out of the control tower. “Inspector! Inspector, uh, let them through.”

Uh-oh.

“Now, now.” The inspector grinned with large teeth. “Did you hear they found minerals out beyond that Earth planet? The Empress’s consort is exiling all the criminals out there, you know.”

“H-he knows!”

Flint held out his palms in a quieting gesture to the junior. “Don’t—”

“What do you mean, ‘he knows’?” Inspector Evansite grinned. “Not everyone watches Palace bulletins like us educated inspectors. Not low castes who—”

“He knows because he’s the Empress’s consort!”

The proclamation echoed across the port. The other inspectors and importers peered over at them.

Inspector Evansite snorted. “He’s a low caste.”

“Not anymore.” The junior tapped his own pierced earlobe in emphasis.

The inspector raged at Flint. “Giving yourself a silver piercing? That’s not allowed! Only the Empress can elevate a low caste to…uh…”

Galena dropped her face into her hands.

Inspector Evansite gestured at Flint’s suit. “He doesn’t have a gray suit like you ordered.”

“Yes.” The junior nodded fervently and tapped his own long, scaly dragon neck. “The Chinese collar. Italian silk. The one I wore in today before shifting was ‘ashwood’ gray. Flint Onyx usually wears ‘fossil’ or ‘harbor sky’ gray, although…” The junior squinted at Flint’s lapel. “This one is closer to ‘pebble’ gray I think?”

“Shadow gray,” Flint corrected, because the plan to sneak in had been destroyed. “One shade darker on the Onyx custom color palette.”

“I love you in shadow gray,” the junior aide gushed. “Especially when you heard the Zentangles case for the second time and you paired your shadow gray shirt with the smoke gray vest. And the…what shade was it…the jacket…”

“Anchor gray,” he supplied.

“Yes! I ordered three. They’re coming in any day now.” He pressed his claws to his heart. “I don’t wear them at work, obviously, but you are my biggest fashion icon, and I have been wanting to meet you ever since you told Cinnabar Corundum the planet doesn’t turn just because she’s standing on it.”

A crowd gathered.

Inspector Evansite listened to the exchange with disbelief, then confusion, but the awed tone of the murmuring watchers nudged him toward cautious respect. “That’s the Empress’s consort? That low-caste courier?”

“That’s Flint Onyx.” The junior aide barely glanced at his superior, an enraptured smile filling his dragon face as he clutched his claws to his chest. “From the Onyx Estate in the Outer Rim. Of course, he was a Scholar before that. And he—”

“No, no. He’s a courier for the Carnelians.”

“His mother’s closest friend is Ferocia Carnelian, and because she had twenty-seven dragonlets, that’s why Flint’s mother commanded Flint and his six siblings to produce their own as fast as possible.”

“But he’s an Onyx? How do you get a low caste from a noble house?”

“It’s a tragic story. His father was a brimstone miner, and when Flint was one year of age, the Onyx matriarch—”

“Okay,” Flint said, “that’s quite—”

“—rejected him, just like his siblings. I can tell you all about the estate.” The junior aide recited Flint’s life history with reverence. “Flint spent his first year—before the orphanage—in the nursery at the top of the southeastern tower. He figured out how to unlock his safety cage before most dragonlets could stand. His superior intellect was already apparent. Then, at the orphanage, he—”

“How do you know all that?’ the inspector asked.

“I have memorized every fact ever reported on the Empress’s consort.” The junior tapped his chest. “Ask me anything. I will tell.”

Galena eyed Flint with the barest smile in her shadowed eyes. “Your fame precedes you.”

“But that means…” The inspector’s gaze traveled to Galena. He swallowed convulsively, and horror touched his face. “…you must be…”

She rested a fist on her hip. “What? Do I look smaller in real life?”

“E-Empress!” He gasped and recoiled.

The audience stared with respectful awe.

Galena composed herself, at once becoming a regal, powerful empress. “You are right, Inspector Evansite of House Tektite. My consort and I are testing the security of our ports. I am now assured that no dragon will slip through, whether in a familiar form or disguised as a human. Today, you have proven that the port of Draconis is a proud guardian of our homeland. You have earned my respect. Continue to deserve it.”

She held her hand out to Flint.

He took it.

They flew through the stopped port, holding traffic in all directions while everyone scrambled to acknowledge their royal presence.

Bilgefire.

He had no backup plan for this. None.

Flint led Galena to his original destination: the single military courier on the field. It was a fast, small ship with no weapons.

Their admiring crowd retreated to a safe distance while she and Flint ascended into the interior. The ground crew performed perfect crowd control and demonstrated excellent port safety.

The young courier captain greeted them in human form—in a military beige jumpsuit—and with a stammer. “M-my Empress, what an honor! Please, make yourself comfortable. I know this is a surprise live test of the military’s capability to evacuate an Empress, and I hope you don’t mind that I saw you coming across the port. I took the liberty of informing General Ragiosa.”

Flint’s chest froze. “I mind.”

“I don’t.” Galena’s voice held a thread of steel.

She never contradicted him, but seeing his plans fail one after another must have changed everything, because she took over. “What was the general’s response?”

“She hasn’t responded yet.” The courier captain sat in her human-sized chair at the controls. To take advantage of the smaller space requirements, most of the military was trained to operate in human form. “Did you want me to wait? Or—”

“Where are we going?”

“That’s—I’m going wherever you tell me, my Empress.”

Galena looked at Flint.

“Earth.”

“No.” Galena stopped the courier captain from inputting that destination and nailed Flint with an intense stare. “House Palladium can assert ownership over Earth. All my father has to do is ask. Helvine will give him anything he wants.”

“Earth is filled with humans. We can hide. My family will protect you.”

“Helvine will follow. She knows more than anyone what leaving a rival alive can risk, and she’s less ruled by her emotions.”

“We have no choice.”

Her lips curved, but mirth didn’t touch her cold eyes. “We always have more choices, Flint.”

He had made too many mistakes.

But this was all he was good at.

If he couldn’t save her now, what good was he?

Galena had sacrificed everything for his oh-so-perfect theory of how to end the Colony Wars without bloodshed. The theory that had gotten him kicked out of the Scholars because it was too plausible yet also too heretical.

His family had also risked everything—unknowingly—to help him test this theory.

He’d failed them.

Now Galena’s life was on the line. And their dragonlet’s. All he could come up with were lazy, obvious answers that any idiot could predict.

His mind was broken.

He was stupider than he’d thought.

And now she knew it too.

“I can’t think of any,” he said, even though confessing it felt like his spine was being pulled through his mouth, and he choked on the vertebrae.

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Try.”

“I tried. I have tried. I just…” He flicked his fingers to show how useless it was.

“Did you share your whole plan with Empress Horribus?”

“Minus the parts about us.”

Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. If she didn’t get sick from shifting, smoke would pour out her nostrils now. “You told her?”

“She wouldn’t agree without knowing everything. I told her because…”

“Because she was your Empress.”

“Right.”

Her irises crackled with the flame she couldn’t express. “Well, now I’m your Empress.”

“I told you, this time is different!”

“Come up with something.”

“But—”

“You are the smartest dragon in the Empire—”

“Except I’m not, obviously, because I didn’t predict this outcome, and our enemies did. Our enemies are smarter.”

Galena refused to let him off. “And who’s smarter than our enemies?”

“I don’t know. Someone else.” He snorted. “A smart dragon. Who’s smart? The Scholars.”

Galena returned to the courier captain. “Set a course for the Scholars’ Citadel.”

“I’m joking.”

“I’m not,” she snapped.

His stomach lurched.

“The Citadel is still on Draconis.” The courier captain secured the ship, lifted off, and input the course. “Aren’t we executing an off-planet evacuation?”

“As soon as we collect a few smart dragons.”

Galena knew Flint was furious with her.

He’d left the Scholars under a cloud, and now she forced him to return to that institution and collect whichever colleagues he thought best able to help.

The white tinge around his clamped-shut mouth told her his feelings.

Their ship hovered over the Scholars’ Citadel.

He dove out the open hatch, flew down to the craggy mountain on the most isolated, ice-swept continent, and disappeared inside.

Flint was a thinker. Galena was an executor. If he couldn’t think, she couldn’t execute, and that had to be fixed. Now.

She waited impatiently with the courier captain.

Flint reappeared with a trio of dragons, who clutched baskets of trailing materials. They squeezed through the spaceship aperture to deposit their baskets and shifted to human.

As the last Scholar entered, a large weaponized pleasure cruiser bearing Palladium colors appeared on the horizon.

“Go,” Galena ordered.

The courier captain closed the doors and executed a stomach-churning evasive maneuver that, thanks to good maintenance of the early model ship, only caused the pile of Scholar stuff to slide a little across the floor.

The comm chimed.

The captain glanced at it. “It’s the cruiser.”

Galena clicked the button to answer. “Glaucodot Palladium. What a surprise.”

Her father materialized on the view screen a proud, stately gray dragon with a barrel chest. “You know why I’m here.”

“You dropped in to say hi?”

His large nostrils flared. He’d never had time for her little jokes. “I’ve come to rescue you.”

“No rescue is needed.”

“Of course it is. Your aunt told me everything! What a disaster. Can Palladium live down this disgrace?”

“That is a question for historians.” She reached for the comm.

“Don’t close the channel! This is why you can’t be Empress. You’re flighty, easily bored, and at the slightest hint of work, you flee.”

“I’m not fleeing,” she replied evenly.

Their small courier gained elevation, burning through the atmosphere and into busy Draconis space.

Her father’s cruiser lazily paced hers. As it belonged to one of the five most important aristocratic families, his ship automatically received precedence, and other ships made a large circle around him, clearing the way for her also.

“You abandoned the Empire. Helvine is barely able to hold control in her condition. We’ve pledged House Palladium resources to her for security.”

“I did not—”

“You’re all alone in a tiny courier ship, completely vulnerable! When I catch you, I’m going to lock you up for the rest of your natural life.”

“Wow, Glaucodot Palladium, you almost sound like you care.”

“Don’t take that tone with me. I am your father!”

Then act like it.

Her tongue formed the words.

But a deeper realization dawned.

Her father did care. Chasing her tiny courier with a massive cruiser while screaming insults about locking her up was him caring.

They had never understood each other. She wasn’t the stately daughter he wanted, and he wasn’t the expressive father she needed. He prophesized her doom because he didn’t know how else to warn her. He came now, unrequested, because he cared. He cared about the family name and their reputation, but also about her. About Galena.

He would never see her strengths. As a cautious dragon who always preferred conservative moves, he would never see dynamic action as wise.

What had changed was that she knew what he needed to feel confident in her—and she was capable of trying to meet him without anger to bridge their differences.

Galena took a deep breath into the bottom of her diaphragm, set her feet, and rested her fists at her sides. A fighting stance, not defensive. “I’m not fleeing right now, Father. Helvine accused me of holding the wrong priorities because I had not secured the military’s approval. So I am.”

He frowned. “You are? You are what?”

“Securing the military. And it seems my delay lost the confidence of the council, so I have collected several Scholars to consult on the best approach to regain their confidence.”

“Your best approach is to show the council you have the support of an army,” he grunted. “And Palladium’s is elsewhere…”

“I would not lean on Palladium alone to secure the Empire.”

“But you must. You are incapable of ruling. And your low-caste consort is unequipped for advising you in aristocrat matters.”

“We—”

“No one will support you. You should never have subverted our plans with Helvine. House Palladium, your aunt, nobody supports you.”

“I have been ruling for months without your support, Father. It is the reason my security team was breached. Your threat changes nothing. I am still the Empress.”

He stared at her for a long, thoughtful moment, then his brow ridges wrinkled more deeply. “That’s not what your aunt said.”

“It’s what I say.”

He lifted his snoot in response to her flippancy.

She mentally shook herself and retreated to a calmer manner that would reach her father. “My aunt must have reported my idealistic speech about exploring beyond Earth.”

“Because you have no plan to conquer the Colonies.”

“Correct. I plan to not conquer the Colonies.”

“Then Coltan will conquer us!”

“Flint thinks—”

“You are dragonlets!” her father snarled. “I thought leading the Empire might teach you respect for your elders, but it has only filled your head with rebellious dross. Turn your courier around at once. I will put down this ridiculous rebellion, and you will rule under my authority.”

“Never!”

“Your idiocy will get you killed. You’ll bring even greater shame on House Palladium as the shortest-ruling Empress in history.”

“Then you will be the first to apologize when I bring Coltan before the Draconis council and forge a treaty of friendship, ending the war, all by myself!”

He whitened with fury. His claws shook, and he could barely speak. He glared at the courier captain. “As head male of the Palladium family, I order you to turn around.”

The courier captain glanced at Galena. “I only take orders from the military once we leave Draconis space…which we left five minutes ago.”

“Then. I have nothing more to say.” He cut the comm.

Galena regarded the captain. “You obeyed me.”

“I don’t have any countermanding orders from my general.”

“That will change soon.”

Galena stretched. The Scholars she trusted to save her throne had been listening. They should have something even more interesting to hear shortly.

The captain flexed her human fingers and checked her gauges. “Please excuse me for saying, but this is a really exciting live test! Usually I pop into the atmosphere, circumnavigate the planet on stealth, and land. I never get challenged by the five families. Probably because I’ve never had the Empress on board.”

“You’ve been practicing?”

“Flint pops in every other week.”

“Really? You’ve taken Flint up?”

“He’s quiet. I almost forget he’s here.”

Galena gazed across the ship and caught his eye. “You came up here every couple of weeks?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I had to test my escape routes.”

“You leave the Palace often?”

Another shrug. “Normally, I’m not recognized.”

All this time, she’d plugged away at her job, manipulating the advisers to make her vision come true, and Flint had been leaving the Palace up to goodness knows what. No wonder he kept showing up with bruises. She’d ordered security to accompany him around the Palace grounds, not off it.

And now it was good that he’d done so. The only thing Galena had time to do was poke around in the Earth trunk, sleep, and play with Kitty.

Kitty…

Her heart sank. “Get me Palace security.”

The courier captain patched her through.

Linarite answered on the first hail, relieved. “My Empress. Your aunt has been looking for you.”

“No time for that now. Something requires your immediate attention.”

“Yes, my Empress.”

“I mean it. This may be the most critical task you will ever perform for me.”

Linarite stiffened. “Yes, my Empress.”

“Listen carefully.” Galena steeled herself. “I need you to feed my cat.”

Flint listened to Galena describe to her security chief how Kitty needed to be fed as if it were a matter of intergalactic security.

“Find the dry food in the marked container, and mound a cup or more of kibble in the center of the dish. Scrub her water fountain if it seems in need of refreshing. She likes a sliver of tuna feast twice a day, and you can alternate with a pâté of organ meats. If she turns up her nose, then give her a small sprig of catnip. Exercise stimulates her appetite. Once she’s recovered from rolling on stone, she will eat.”

The security head was silent as though taking detailed notes. “It will be done.”

“I’m counting on you, Linarite.”

“I will not fail you.”

“Thank you.”

“But my Empress, you should also know that there is talk of moving your half-sister Helvine into your private chambers.”

Galena was silent for a long moment.

Did Galena note how Linarite identified Helvine as a half-sister rather than as a candidate for Empress? Subconsciously, at least, Linarite considered Galena the true Empress.

She was loyal.

“Flint.” His former sparring mate at the Citadel, Apatite, lifted his purple brows in agitation. “Aeschynite is still waiting for you to explain why you thought it a better idea to use the Great Male Paradox to underlie your Linchpin Theory instead of the Small Rip Current Conundrum.”

Aeschynite leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and set his chin on his knit fingers, ready to listen. He was a lumpy rare earth color, and, like the other two Scholars that joined them, wore an open terry-cloth bathrobe that the Citadel had purchased for all Scholars for just this sort of situation.

Flint’s stomach rolled.

The last thing he wanted to do was defend a theory that had gotten wrecked from these males who would pick at every error until his ego was a bloody mess. Even though he deserved it, the experience didn’t sound pleasant or helpful.

“Flint?”

Galena started talking again, and Flint held up his hand to quiet the Scholars so he could listen.

“Linarite, I only charge you with securing the health of my cat. If Helvine prefers my chambers, she will only embarrass herself when I return in triumph. Her embarrassment is not for you to manage. Understand?”

“Yes, my Empress.”

“Good luck.” Galena closed the connection, sighed, and stretched.

“Flint.” The third Scholar, his former roommate copper-red Erdite, frowned over a sketch of the summary Flint had shared about their situation. “You had so many advantages. Our theories were perfect. How could you mess this up?”

“Because theories are perfect. Dragons are not.”

“But you had so many—”

“Galena Palladium.” A booming voice filled the small ship with resonant authority, and the largest view screen showed an aged, venerable, scarred visage of a dragon so black she seemed to absorb light. “You have yet to choose your name, like a dragonlet, and I do not give dragonlets permission to take my ships. I value my captains too much.”

“General Ragiosa.” Galena smiled with all her teeth. “How nice to finally take your call.”

“Sure it is.” She narrowed her eyes. “Give me one reason not to shoot your impudent youthful wings off.”

“I’m going to end the Colony Wars.”

The statement echoed through the ship, stirring the other Scholars. She’d said this before, even to her father minutes earlier, but her tone was different. Assured, steady, and absolutely without doubt. It was the kind of statement an empress would make right before she ended a war.

And it made his heart clench for all the ways he’d failed her.

General Ragiosa’s scaly black brow ridges lifted. “I’ve heard that one before.”

“Not from me.”

“You think a dragonlet who tricked her way onto the throne by betraying the rightful heir is going to end a centuries-long war?”

“I do.”

“Has anyone said you’re crazy?”

“Several times. Today, in fact.”

“And what makes you think your crazy dragonlet ideas are going to change my mind?”

“You’ve policed the cease-fire with Kosmochlor for decades. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. The only one who can judge my idea is you.”

General Ragiosa studied her for a long, taut moment. “House Palladium has some interesting characters.”

Galena smiled. “I do not represent House Palladium.”

On the large screen, a new destination was set to General Ragiosa’s position. Escort ships appeared on either side of their small courier. They crowded out Galena’s father, and the Palladium cruiser peeled off, assumedly returning to Draconis.

“I will hear your crazy ideas in forty-two hours.” General Ragiosa closed the connection, and the screen reverted to its usual gauges and readouts.

Galena released a long breath and rotated her shoulders. She’d expertly handled two difficult conversations with opponents, and she’d done so with grace and confidence.

Behind him, Erdite tsked. “You would never have failed if you’d applied my improvement ‘Heir Curl’ to your Linchpin Theory, which I proposed years ago.”

“Your improvement?” Apatite crossed his arms. “That wouldn’t have helped at all. Flint’s Linchpin Theory is fatally flawed, as demonstrated by my alternate proof, ‘Mechanics Collide, Organics Divide.’”

Aeschynite lifted his chin from his hands. “Now, now. There are good and bad points to both.”

“If you combine our theories correctly, you get the ‘Heir Pin’ alternative, which subsumes both flaws.”

“The problem was Flint’s second proof,” Erdite argued.

“And the third.”

“No, the third is based on my ‘River Bedrock’ theory, which is flawless.”

Erdite snorted.

Apatite stopped. “Do you dare to disagree?”

Aeschynite held out his hands. “Let’s agree that both theories have flaws.”

“Let’s not,” Erdite and Apatite both snapped in unison.

Flint jolted to his feet and strode away from the all too familiar arguments. The Citadel had only stimulated him for so long. Unlike these dragons, he hadn’t been satisfied with debating. He’d needed action.

His needs had thrown the entire Empire into chaos.

Galena finished her stretch and turned to join them.

He intercepted her.

Her tired frown smoothed. She swayed to him. “Have you figured out how to save my throne?”

“No,” he said shortly, “and speeding toward the head of the military who hates you, in the heart of Colony space, is not the best escape strategy for an Empress who can’t shift.”

“I’m not trying to escape.” She linked arms to draw him back to the arguing Scholars. The trio of males were so wrapped up in their disagreement, Erdite now diagramming the theories on their strategy board to prove his point while the others criticized his depiction, that they did not even acknowledge the presence of their empire’s monarch.

Typical.

She waited a moment, then cleared her throat meaningfully, and when that also produced no results from the focused dissenters, she lowered her voice again to Flint. “Who are they?”

He introduced their backs. “The Citadel’s premier Colony Wars enthusiasts. Erdite focuses on battlefield supply chain logistics, Apatite focuses on archaeology and planetology, and Aeschynite is an expert on the lineage of rulers.”

“Colony rulers?”

“The Empress line.” Aeschynite turned away from his arguing colleagues in a surprising show that he was listening after all. “We speak of ‘The Colonies’ as one entity, but they are, in fact, more than sixteen occupied planets, loosely confederated, with different histories, cultures, values, and governmental structures. Our peaceful interactions have taken place on the most populous main planet, Kosmochlor. They have an assembly like our Draconis council.”

“I thought Kosmochlor was also composed of warring tribes.”

“No more than the usual opportunism. Fighting is a rite of passage only for dragons in a region known as the Outer Tribes. They dwell on some of the richest asteroid belts and planetoids, and, according to Erdite, they have the most creative and effective counterstrikes.”

“Correct,” Erdite said, without looking up from the board. “Normally, when an Empress promises to end the Colony Wars, she means to conquer and part out the mineral wealth of the Outer Tribes, and to indenture the Kosmochlorians under the rule of Draconis. It hasn’t gone well.”

“But that’s not my area of study,” Aeschynite said.

She cupped her belly. “You study the Empress line? Then you know…?”

“I know,” he bragged.

Flint tucked Galena under his shoulder. “Aeschynite is no medic.”

“Huh? Oh.” Aeschynite shrugged. “I am no medic, but ask me anything.”

“Shifter sickness,” Galena said.

“Empress Horribus was rumored, like all in the line, to suffer from first-pregnancy shifter sickness, but rest assured, I know for a fact it’s a lie.” Aeschynite smiled with superiority. “She shifted multiple times during her pregnancy with the first heir, even up to the birth, and suffered no adverse effects whatsoever.”

“You’re sure these are the best Scholars?” She nudged Flint with an uneasy laugh. “I’ve rested everything on them.”

“Well…” Flint said.

“I am the best,” Aeschynite said stiffly. “Empress Horribus put down an uprising while in labor, and a surprise invasion from the Colonies. The Palace still bears the marks. With a newborn dragonlet in her arms, she drove Coltan and the rest of the Kosmochlorian fleet away.” He lifted a finger. “Anyone who studies history would not call your current actions crazy. Empresses have faced down the Empire’s enemies with nothing but claws and teeth for centuries. This will not be Coltan’s first time facing an Empress, even.”

He started to turn back to the strategy board.

Galena stopped him. “But if the rumors about shifter sickness were true—”

“They’re complete fabrications.”

“Just imagine that—”

“Imagination is unnecessary in light of facts.”

“Thought exercise,” Flint ground out, bridging the paradigm between Galena and Aeschynite. “Empress Horribus had shifter sickness and shifted during her pregnancy with her first heir. How do you explain the paradox?”

“The first heir isn’t the first heir,” Aeschynite said immediately. “But we all know that’s impossible. The life of Empress Horribus was carefully documented from birth to her coronation just before the tragic collapse of the ice caves. Even during her so-called ‘missing’ year, the military was rumored to have known her location all along and, at her orders, did not disclose it to the Empire. Theories abound, but most agree she ascended too young and disappeared for a year of joyriding, or had a torrid affair.”

“Or a first dragonlet,” Galena murmured, hand on her belly.

“Lies.” Aeschynite smiled at her kindly. “It is a long-standing lie perpetuated by enemies of the line. I’ve traced every accusation and found an alternate theory for each. There’s no truth to it. I promise you.”

Galena acknowledged the intended kindness without accepting it.

Aeschynite returned to the duo and clapped their shoulders. “We’re supposed to be ending the Colony Wars, and this is not a drill. Let’s present our findings as factual steps for a layperson’s understanding.”

They looked back at Galena and frowned as though explaining their brilliance to her would be the most difficult step.

“Let’s set up the board,” Apatite suggested.

Erdite saved his theorems, erased the surface except for a tiny corner—“I’m still thinking about that one,” he muttered—and when the others gave him a hard time about dividing his attention, he reluctantly erased it too.

“List the leaders at the top,” Aeschynite ordered genially. “Down to the tertiary level, I would think.”

“And all the major epochs,” Apatite said. “From the formation of the planets to the modern day, including all the mineral compositions and resource disbursements.”

Erdite glanced over his shoulder. “We only have forty-two hours.”

“The Empress told Flint she must understand the whole plan, including the contingencies. Is it possible to comprehend the inner workings of the Colonies without knowing the greatest sources of agriculture and industry?”

Erdite rocked his head back and forth. He wanted to disagree because of the time limit, but a full understanding required all the details down to the minutest location of every last shuttle screw.

Galena stopped them. “Do you have a plan? Right now?”

“No,” the trio chorused.

“Okay, rather than explain anything to me, why don’t you come up with a plan first?”

“If you think so.” Erdite capped his stylus, the board mostly empty. “Explaining is usually the most complicated step.”

“She’s worked with Flint before,” Aeschynite pointed out.

“And he didn’t tell her anything,” Apatite said. “So explaining will fall to us.”

The trio started to argue.

“Just work on the plan,” Galena ordered.

They quieted and huddled around the board.

Flint remained by her.

She elbowed him. “Why aren’t you over there?”

“My theory failed.”

“We’re still alive.”

“Not because of me.”

Her brows knitted together. She glanced at the captain, at the Scholars, and back at him as if to ask if he was really going to say that this wasn’t all because of him.

“If I hadn’t become your consort, you would never have fled. You’d have challenged the advisers and avoided this situation.”

“I would never have tried to become Empress,” she said.

“So you’d be safe in your house, not pursued or endangered, a beloved heir.”

“And a bored, nasty, adult-body dragonlet.” She linked his hands in her own. “Instead of the leader of the Empire who’s going to change everything for everyone forever.”

He had given her those words.

His heart squeezed.

He had done this. He’d filled her head with flawed ideas, only, like a blinded Scholar, all he saw was his false vision. And now Galena was on her way to be annihilated by General Ragiosa with no escape. Her death would be his fault.

“Hey.” She wiggled his hands. “I know you want me to run away. My mother disappeared for a year, and it must have been for the same reason. But I will not be able to retake the throne as she did.”

“You could.”

“My mother reproduced her way into alliances. She had over thirty heirs with as many consorts. That was her specialty.”

“You could return after a year.”

“I won’t need to, Flint. I’m the Empress right now. I’ve run away from it, and I’m not running away anymore. I’ve done everything to end the war. I’m ending it. With or without you.”

Better without him.

The other Scholars argued. “What shifter sickness?” Aeschynite’s assured voice floated over to them. “I’m telling you, it doesn’t exist.”

Hmm.

“I hope it’s with you,” Galena said quietly. The melancholy in her voice broke his heart.

He crushed her to his chest and stroked her bare back. The ragged shreds of her torn dress tangled in his fingers. “I don’t have a lot to add.”

“Isn’t your middle brother a special forces dragon?”

“Former black ops.”

“It’s still military, isn’t it? Couldn’t he talk to General Ragiosa? Maybe he could say something in our favor.”

“Kyan knows nothing about our goals. He’ll make snap judgments that complicate our situation. Mistakes that leave him and us vulnerable.”

But even while he was saying the excuses aloud, his mind raced in the opposite direction.

Kyan couldn’t rescue Galena from General Ragiosa. Not even with the fastest ship. He was on Earth, way too far away.

But, assuming they were successful in convincing General Ragiosa not to kill them, he could help them return to Draconis.

And what about the disagreement with Adviser Malicia? Flint had avoided involving Alex out of stubbornness. If she took their side, then Galena had fewer dragons to re-win over in the council.

He’d ignored Jasper’s connection to Space Voyages Inc. as a highly respected former employee. Amber had an underutilized skill in finance. And Pyro was a veteran of the Colony Wars who’d survived combat against the Outer Tribes.

Even Mal was a veteran, although he hadn’t seen much fighting.

Flint had ignored his siblings out of pride, protectiveness, and the need to control his tidy plan.

But his plan had always been messy.

Galena had understood that her entire life.

For believing a perfect plan was ever possible, the true dragonlet was him.

“I get that you’re trying to single-handedly secure my throne,” Galena said gently, unaware of the direction of his thoughts, “but now is the time to bring in everyone. You have more resources than you’re letting yourself have. What are you afraid of? Them disagreeing with you? I’m the Empress, and let me tell you, watching you in action is hot.”

Amusement lifted his chest. “Is it?”

“Not only for me. You have fans.”

“That was a singular experience.”

“The first of many. As Adviser Idocrase is fond of telling me, the Empress’s consort is a role model for the males of the Empire. You’ve probably done more to promote demand for Earth products by walking around in human suits than any other dragon.”

“Noted.”

“But you are an inspiration. You’ve come so far. You’re not an orphan dragon at risk from bullies anymore, Flint, and being wrong isn’t going to get you a black mark in a Scholar’s book. Smart is sexy. You are—”

He covered her mouth with his.

A thousand years of promises passed between them. Reassurance, connection, and sizzling heat.

Her lips parted with hunger, and her tongue rose to meet his. They entangled.

Her soft breasts pressed to his chest, and her thigh hooked his. He gripped her tightly, pressing his ready cock to her heat. They locked together with sweet promise. Together, they’d survived, and together, they’d continue. She was everything he needed.

Her passion revitalized him.

He pulled back, wanting to plunge his cock in and take her first hard and fast, then sweet and slow, but there was no privacy in the small courier, and no time either.

She panted, equally hungry, and played it off with a pat on his lapel. “So. Yes. Get thinking with those guys and, ah, turn me on.”

He nuzzled her. “Okay.”

She traded another quick kiss and then stepped back.

He rolled up his sleeves and stormed into the center of the arguing trio. Flint swept away their exploratory drawings and placed a target bubble in the center.

“Make our Empress the most celebrated of all time.” He drew corollary thought bubbles. “By ending the Colony Wars, softening the caste system, enriching the Empire, and embarking on a new great age of exploration.”

He stepped back and examined his work.

“You’re insane,” Erdite said.

“Can’t be done,” Apatite agreed.

“Both of you are correct,” Aeschynite said. “I’m sorry, Flint. This is a nice goal board for a layperson, but it’s not a strategy board for Scholars.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Flint stepped forward again and filled in another strategy bubble. “And take over the military…”

The trio all made skeptical noises, hoots, and raspberries.

“Resources.” He filled in the big ones, and then he made a circle in the center.

“His Linchpin,” Apatite guessed.

He wrote in “Earth.”

“You can’t have a Linchpin planet,” Erdite argued. “Your theory requires the Linchpin to be an individual.”

He attached a second circle and wrote in Galena’s name, and then a third circle and wrote in their names.

“Us?” Erdite snorted. “We can’t all be Linchpins.”

“But we are.” Flint pointed at each of them. “You inspired my theory, told me why bringing Earth into the Empire’s sights would never work, and forced me to refine my plans. Now, at the brink, we’re here again. The plan we make right now is going to be the test. The messy, messy test.”

“And if we fail, we all die,” Erdite said.

They stared at the board.

Apatite tilted his head. “What does that look like to you? A trio of gears?”

“Interlocking chains,” Erdite said.

“A regent with two heirs,” Aeschynite said. “Or consorts, actually.”

“Why?” Flint asked.

“I’m trying to think of a name,” Apatite said. “‘Linchpin’ doesn’t work if there are three.”

The others rolled their eyes.

“Focus,” Erdite said.

“The name is very important,” Apatite insisted. “It determines whether the theory is picked up by the laypeople or ignored.”

“Let’s call it the ‘Saving the Empire’ theory,” Galena said behind them, and the trio spooked, so focused on Flint that they’d forgotten she was even there.

They all stared at the board a moment longer.

“I always wanted to be someone’s Linchpin,” Aeschynite said to no one.

“Let’s set aside the name for now.” Erdite drew lines between resources using his special script. “Although I too like the idea of being the first of Flint’s officially recognized Linchpins.”

“Technically, Jasper was the first,” Flint said.

“That’s not true,” Apatite argued. “If you consider—”

“I’ll make you all medals,” Galena interrupted. “You can all be recognized. Just get me back on the throne. Tell me what to do.”

Erdite looked at Apatite and Aeschynite. They all together looked at Flint.

Flint sucked in a breath and let it out. “Of course, the way to regain power is to fulfill your campaign promises.”

“Don’t do that,” she warned. “You have to tell me the whole plan. We’re never doing secret signals ever again.”

“Convince General Ragiosa to let you through the cease-fire, convince the resistance leader to return with you to Draconis, and convince all the aristocrats to sign a treaty of friendship promising they’ll never take over Kosmochlor.”

She blinked. “I never promised that.”

“You already did,” Apatite said, and the other scholars nodded emphatically. “Just a few minutes ago on that view screen.”

“But I was just fighting with my father. Bluffing to keep from getting blown up!”

“It’s also the best way to win back the throne and confirm that you are, indeed, the rightful Empress,” Aeschynite said.

She looked dazed.

Flint floated to her and took her hands. “It’s what we always planned.”

“After I’d been ruling unopposed for fifty years and nobody dared challenge me!”

“Everything happened faster.” Flint smoothed her locks of silver-black hair. “We have an opportunity. Dragons are ready. We need to move with speed and energy and carry everyone with us into the next stage before fears cast us back into war.”

She held his gaze for long moments and then looked beyond him at the board. Studying it, really absorbing it. “Is it possible?”

The trio of Scholars nodded.

Flint spoke their answer aloud. “Yes.”

“Okay.” She shook her head, but repeated, “Okay. You’re the smartest dragons. Tell me what to do.”

“Convince General Ragiosa to let you through to see Coltan.”

“No.” She focused clear eyes on him. “Not vague or piecemeal. We go over the whole plan together. You tell me the goal at every point, and what we do if it goes wrong. I add anything we might not have planned.”

“You have excellent instincts.”

“And I’m going to have even better ones after I know the whole plan.”

“Knowing the whole plan isn’t the same as executing it.”

“You told Empress Horribus everything, Flint. I am the Empress now.”

“Right, of course. It’s just the time factor, and you need sleep—”

“Don’t worry!” Aeschynite called. “If it seems to go awry, you can always shift and rampage until your opponents are eliminated, just like you did when you won the heir battles.”

Ah.

Huh.

Galena bore holes into Flint with her black gaze. “Let’s avoid that at all costs.”

“Yes. Right. Let’s go over the whole plan, my Empress, as efficiently as possible so that you still have a few hours to rest before you face General Ragiosa.”

Flint led her to the board and began smartly. Because she was the Empress, no plan was perfect, everyone was involved now, and at the end of this all, Galena would be surfing on a thin shell over a thick, messy miasma.

This was their last and only chance to get it right.

Galena’s first requirement was to convince General Ragiosa to join their side.

Thanks to Flint constantly redirecting his long-winded, tangentially minded Scholar friends, they’d managed to get through the whole plan in enough time for Galena to take a five-hour nap, and then they’d thought of a few more strategic bits to share during docking.

She still wore her shredded, singed dress from the failed council meeting. Hunger squeezed her stomach, and sour bile lingered on her tongue.

In short, she was not in brilliant shape to make her insane case to one of the most celebrated senior military generals of all time.

And she felt it too.

Flint fidgeted behind her. He had called his siblings during her rest and secured their assistance for later parts of the plan. But those later parts required her to succeed here first.

He and the Scholars carried props in case General Ragiosa was amenable to a multimedia presentation.

Galena doubted it very much.

They lined up at the exit. A hiss of air depressurized the airlock. Galena raised her chin and lowered her shoulders to look strong and at ease.

The courier captain stood to the side with one hand on the emergency lever, as was protocol. They all waited for permission to open the courier and enter the main warship.

The courier captain lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think you’re going to do a great job. General Ragiosa likes people who are competent and bold. Good luck.”

It was funny to get reassurance from such a young female, but Galena took it where she could get it. “Thank you for your excellent piloting.”

The courier captain nodded and then stiffened, the smile wiped off her face. All business, she operated the door, which opened into the main military bay. “My Empress.”

A small group of five dragons waited below, all in beige military coveralls, bristling with tools and small weapons. Galena floated down to the metal floor to meet them.

The ship’s second-in-command greeted her.

Dragons formed an escort around Flint and the Scholars. They flew through twisted tubes. Galena remembered from her tour of the new warship that every choice was engineered to preserve pieces of the ship in the event of a catastrophic breach, which was a rarity, but still a concern on ships built for war.

“Where is General Ragiosa?” she asked.

“Waiting in the amphitheater.” The second cleared her human throat. “Normally, she would greet an Empress upon arrival at her ship, but you haven’t done the formal transfer of allegiance, and you can’t do that in Bay Five, so…” She laughed at the absurdity.

Galena laughed also, although she had no idea. “Of course. I see.”

“What a weird rule,” Apatite muttered.

“It relates to the chain of command during the Land War Era,” Erdite said. “Began by Empress Provokula, who—”

“Actually, it had its roots earlier,” Aeschynite countered, “in the pre-great-starvation dynasties, when the Empress—Quaterna was her given name, before dragons named themselves after minerals, and before commanders and Empresses chose honorary ancestral titles—was the leader, and there was then a disagreement between the forty-two ruling families about…”

They reached the grand indoor amphitheater of the flagship. In the center floated General Ragiosa.

She was a tall, midnight-black female with a bald head and high brow bones. Her lips and eyelids had a reddish sheen that disappeared when viewed straight on, but then reappeared when she cocked her head at an angle, as she did now. Her uniform was military beige.

“So, here you are.” Her voice boomed, and it wasn’t affected. Loud was her normal volume. “Galena Palladium. You come in here and you want control of my military.”

Galena gave the general a respectful pause and then lifted her chin. “Actually, General Ragiosa, I do not.”

The general floated around Galena in a circle. “No? Perhaps your advisers didn’t explain to you how it works. If you don’t control the military, then how are you going to get anything done? You can’t lead my warships, my soldiers?”

“We will share the same goals and the same idea of how to accomplish them.”

“You mean I do your bidding because you don’t know how the military works.” She stopped in front of Galena and looked her up and down. At a full head taller, General Ragiosa was intimidating, and her disgust wasn’t for the fainthearted. “Helvine knew.”

“I asked her to be my commander.”

“And how did that go?”

“I’m now here.”

General Ragiosa returned to circling her slowly, like a predator trying to understand its prey. “Because your ideas were insane.”

Flint and the other Scholars moved closer together to make a smaller target. General Ragiosa floated around them, unsettling and deliberate.

“I have been called idealistic for wanting to end the Colony Wars, yes.”

“Because it can’t be done.” General Ragiosa gestured at her entourage. “You’re not going to fly in all my warships and attack. We might win, and that’s a big might, but there will be nothing left. And then the Outer Tribes attack us for fun as part of their culture.”

“That’s not my plan.”

“Sure, it’s not yours, because you want me to execute it.”

“No.”

Silence.

General Ragiosa lifted her brows high.

Galena endured the examination. It was so different from how she had to command the advisers, but she could adapt.

“Okay,” the general finally said, “I’m ready for an amusement. Your plan is for me to assemble my military to…?”

“You’re assembled here just fine. I need to pass through this blockade.”

“Pass…through…” General Ragiosa frowned at the courier captain in the back of the room standing at stiff attention. “In what?”

“Hopefully, something a little larger than the courier.”

General Ragiosa looked at the ceiling with a satisfied smirk. “Sure.”

“Not the whole military,” Galena cautioned. “An escort would be nice, a tacit show of security since I had to leave mine behind, and I am not assured of a friendly welcome by the Kosmochlorians. History seems divided on their reception of past Empresses.”

“Past Empresses have been divided on whether to burn their cities to the ground.”

“Right.”

“So. You want an escort.”

“Yes.”

“Not a show of force.”

“Correct.”

“And once we get to Kosmochlor, you’re going to just, what, say you want to stop the fighting?”

“You’ve stopped the fighting for five decades. I don’t think there’s anything to be gained by asking to ‘stop the fighting.’”

General Ragiosa inclined her head as though Galena had said the first sensible thing since she’d stepped onto the warship. “But you want to stop the war.”

“We’ve invested heavily into containing the Colonies. Draconis does not need slavish pandering from its satellites. We have more to gain by an alliance and free-flowing trade.”

General Ragiosa pushed her lips out in thought, sucked in a breath, and released it. “Fine words.”

“Thank you.”

“And misleading. You’ve been run out by the council and are now looking for the Colonies to lend you their military to retake your throne. You don’t care about treaties. As soon as you’re back in power, you’ll try to flip us and get the second tower burned down.”

“I was run out for the ideas I’ve just told you.” Galena gritted her teeth to force herself to be brutally honest when every instinct said to lie and bluff and protect herself, Flint, and their unborn dragonlet. “And if I convince the Kosmochlorian fleet to put me back into power, then that accomplishes my goal.”

“And then you’d charge the Draconis military with routing the invaders.”

“But you still have control of the military, so that would be pretty stupid of me, wouldn’t it?”

“I never said you were smart.” General Ragiosa’s gaze traveled beyond Galena to the huddled Scholars. “They, on the other claw, have a reputation.”

“Well, if you can explain why I would do everything I want only to destroy it all at the end, that would be an enlightening thought exercise for all of us.”

General Ragiosa shrugged. “It’s not me you have to convince.”

“I am prepared to address the Kosmochlorian general assembly.”

She snorted. “Oh, are you? Then you must know the Kosmochlorians disrespect Draconians because we want to solve everything with a bigger fire, a stronger bite, a quicker claw. They conduct their business as humans and look down on any violence.”

“Yes, I’ve been told to expect that.”

“You can’t bully them. The moment you shift, your argument is lost.”

“I won’t shift.”

General Ragiosa snorted. “I know you’re doing this little theater, and you’ve had your Scholars whispering in your ear about what to do, but I’ve seen it before. I don’t let anybody cross the line. Not for five decades. And our peace has lasted. Kosmochlor practically forgets about us half the time, which is something I wish Draconis would do.”

Galena held her black gaze. “I vow on my mother’s honor and the honor of my line that I will not shift for any reason, not even to save my own life or the lives of my companions.”

No one moved.

General Ragiosa’s eyes finally narrowed. She sighed, looked at the ceiling again, and shook her head. “I’m going to regret this.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

“I’ve heard that line before.”

“Not from me.”

General Ragiosa snorted and produced a small communicator from her pocket. “Yeah, definitely not from you…”

The assembled dragons waited. General Ragiosa fiddled with the comm. The silence stretched.

“…definitely not…” the general muttered. “…betrayer…some sort of betrayal…”

Galena stiffened. “Despite what you’ve heard, I did not mean to betray Helvine. The official rules—”

General Ragiosa jerked her head up and held up a warning hand. “You’re not a fraction of the dragon Commander Incensia was. Is. Don’t think I’m doing this favor for you.”

Galena’s protest died in the surprise. “You’re not?”

“I’m doing it for him.” She nodded behind Galena to Flint.

Galena wheeled.

Flint’s gray eyes widened. The other Scholars gestured for him to explain. He shook his head, indicating he had no idea what the general was talking about.

Mysteries within mysteries.

“Consider a life debt repaid,” General Ragiosa said cryptically and then muttered again into the communicator.

Oh, she’d been communicating on it when Galena had misinterpreted her mutters. Now she picked out nothing of substance beyond General Ragiosa agreeing and signing off.

She pocketed the communicator. “All right, Draconis Empress, you’ll have your moment to present your insanity to the public. If you can end the Colony Wars, your chance is waiting in Bay Twelve.”

Relief cascaded over Galena with tingles.

The first hurdle was passed?

She’d managed to convince General Ragiosa?

The general took long strides past her and then floated, and the entire group floated after her. Not only had they convinced her, but she was personally going to join the escort to Kosmochlor while leaving the bulk of the empire’s military might here with her trusted, handpicked second-in-command.

Galena caught up. “General Ragiosa, you won’t regret this. We will forge a treaty on this historic trust. Thank you for the opportunity to—”

“Don’t thank me.” Harsh amusement transformed her blunt face. “Because you’re not going to thank me. Not after you’ve met Coltan.”

General Ragiosa assigned their group a room to themselves on a great command ship.

Erdite mentioned the battle class and lovingly detailed the statistics. They ate the usual military food, which was a big change from the textured and flavorful human offerings Flint had been feeding his mate, but she did not complain. He didn’t mind either, when the fate of the Empire was weighing on his shoulders.

After dining, Galena patted her belly and yawned.

“Should we go over everything again?” Aeschynite asked with kind concern.

“Yes,” she said.

“But not right now.” Flint ushered her to a more private corner. “You know what you need to do.”

She hesitated, then a new decisiveness filled her expression. She nodded once. “Wake me if you think of something new.”

“Yes, my Empress.”

She cocked a brow at him, and an amused grin flashed. “Mm. It sounds weird when you say it.”

“How awkward. I’ll practice.”

She nuzzled him and then collapsed.

He watched over her, listening in occasionally to the other Scholars as they traveled various mental pathways, and they drifted off task and into other problems. Which meant that they felt good enough about the plan, like he did.

It was exciting and interesting, like reinvestigating an old problem with new information. A solution seemed tantalizingly within his grasp.

He still wanted to steal Galena away to safety for a year or more. Her and their dragonlet. If it were up to him, he’d do so, but he abandoned those thoughts right now.

Galena would carry them with her raw talent, and Flint would do his best to protect her vulnerabilities and support her strengths.

He slept beside her.

They arrived outside Kosmochlor, entered a hovering pattern, and took a smaller shuttle down to the main planet.

From the upper atmosphere, the planet looked sludge green, unlike the red and blue of Draconis, the sere red of his mother’s estate in the Outer Rim, or the white-blue-green of Earth. They traveled over the planet and then toured the main continent to the capital city. His fellow Scholars took detailed notes. Flint stayed beside Galena and just watched. The landscape matched the maps he’d found in the archives.

They swooped over the capital city.

Wildness coexisted with order, and lush underbrush hid dangers only inches away. Overgrown thickets, tumbled stone in asymmetrical structures, and toppled fences were left where they’d fallen. Large sauropods roamed the streets, and strange insects erupted out of fields after their shadow. Everything looked both beautiful and poisonous.

They landed on a ruptured stone landing pad overgrown with slick moss.

Galena looked around with a skeptical expression.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Apatite minced from one bare patch of stone to the next. “But don’t say it. The placement of this moss is deliberate.”

“Deliberate?”

“Allowed, expected, and desired,” he clarified. “The imperfections and upheavals of nature are considered a sign of healthy life on Kosmochlor. And the Kosmochlorians—not Colonists, never Colonists!—believe that wear is a sign of endurance, newness a sign of inexperience.”

“I suppose it would be more economical not to restore some parts of the Palace.”

General Ragiosa spoke into her communicator and then led the way out of the landing field and into the city proper.

The streets bustled with a mix of humans and dragons, and no one glanced in their direction. The local garb was brighter and more colorful, with kimonos and bathrobes in wilder shades. Active interplanetary trade had reached Kosmochlor despite the containment by the Empire.

Children padded barefoot past a spear-leaf plant. Suddenly, a massive millipede fell out of its leaves and attacked.

The children shrieked and shifted to dragon.

The millipede hissed.

Five adult dragons converged on the millipede. Beating it with long sticks, they drove it off.

Hmm. Flint studied the other dense street plants.

“The Kosmochlorian philosophy is that what isn’t attacking you should be left alone,” Apatite said. “Even a deadly millipede deserves a life.”

This lack of structure was unsettling and, frankly, dangerous.

Galena raised a brow at Flint.

He hemmed her closer to the military escort. She must not be at risk when she couldn’t shift.

“There is chaotic artistry to everything that’s very Earthlike.” Apatite pointed out the designs on stone buildings and fabric. “The philosophy made the structures look like they are falling apart when they probably aren’t.”

They passed giant stone heads splotched with lichens, stone courtyards with grass pushing up between the jagged intersections, trees heaving over walls or seeming to have structures built around them. The alleys stank of rotting waste, but the food sizzling in the market smelled fresh and rich, and the very air seemed hungry.

Apatite narrated their journey, monologuing on the city and history for Galena.

Aeschynite commented to Flint with a lowered voice, “Can you imagine this disorder at the Palace? In the lairs of the five families, or on Draconis?”

Flint could not.

And yet the Kosmochlorians were vital and alive.

“And their leader, Coltan, is greatly respected,” Apatite continued to Galena. “He bears numerous scars from when his homeland was attacked and he was made a young widower, and from his later revenge campaigns. His weathering would be reviled on Draconis, but here, he is called handsome for having survived.”

They approached a squat, unassuming building, and crossed under a low arcade of stone yellowed with age and covered with green vines. The air smelled sweet from white flowers.

General Ragiosa led the group inside.

A chubby female in a red robe and yellow scarf confronted them. “What are you doing here?”

General Ragiosa stopped short. “The Draconis Empress has arrived to broker a peace.”

“Has she?” The female gazed over the group, across the other military officers, before finally settling on Galena. “Hmph. No standing on ceremony, I see.”

Galena pulled her shoulders back to her most imperious pose, a look that always made Flint also straighten his spine. “Whom do I have the honor of addressing?”

“It won’t matter if I tell you my name. You won’t have heard of me. And why should I tell you? You didn’t give me a proper introduction.”

Apatite narrated the encounter quietly, but everyone could hear. “Kosmochlorians are blunt and no-nonsense. Some see it as disrespectful.”

Flint shushed him.

Galena didn’t take her eyes off the female. “I am, as General Ragiosa said, the Empress of Draconis. And you?”

“You don’t look like any Empress.”

“Have you met many?” Galena’s tone lilted with a flash of wit before returning to politeness.

“A fair few.” The unnamed female eyed General Ragiosa. “So, as door manager of the capital, I have to decide whether to assemble the high muckety-mucks based on this sight. Four fops and a tattered female. Not an impressive lot.”

General Ragiosa shrugged. “They are what they are.”

“It’s the first moon-farm day, you know. Lots of work to be done. I can’t call in a quorum for no reason.”

Galena cleared her throat. “I assure you there is great reason. Our planets have been separated by the mistakes of our predecessors for too long. Instead of a claw of war, I come to reach out with the fingertips of friendship. My Scholars estimate the universe is infinite and expanding, which means that there are more than enough resources for all of us to fill our lairs. Return to Draconis as my honored guests, vow a pact of peace, and let us begin trade together to build up the strongest Empire we have ever seen.”

Her speech had a practiced ring, but it was heartfelt. Everyone who heard it must realize she truly believed in it.

The female’s expression didn’t change. She waited for a long moment as though testing to see if Galena would fill the space with awkward chatter.

Galena waited with the patience of an expert ruler.

“Hmph. That’s it, then.” The female backed up to an arched doorway and called down the inner arcade, “Hey, come listen to this.”

“I have things to do.” A second shorter and chubbier female huffed into the hall. “What’s this?”

“The Draconis Empress. She wants to sign a treaty.”

“Oh, another one?” The second female crossed her arms. “I have halls to mop.”

“I know, I know. You’re just a custodian. No point in calling in the whole lot, then, is there?”

“Indeed there is.” Galena stepped forward, leaving Flint behind and joining the other females in the mouth of the arcade. “Our mistakes—or those of our predecessors—have separated our great planets for too long.”

She went through the speech for the second female, who also couldn’t decide if it merited summoning the assembly, and called in the female who polished the hall fixtures for a third opinion. They continued deeper into the building to find a fourth opinion from the male who peeled fruit for afternoon snacks, and then his assistant, idly playing a game on the foot of the amphitheater steps.

Galena was repeating her speech for a fifth time when an old, scarred male dressed in dirty coveralls entered the covered amphitheater. He stopped beside General Ragiosa, crossed his meaty arms, and muttered something to the general. A small entourage of similarly dirty, unkempt farmers ranged behind him.

Apatite identified him to Flint in hushed tones. “It’s their leader, Coltan.”

Coltan was shorter and stocker than Flint had imagined, but otherwise looked like a male who’d spent nearly a century avenging his wife’s death. He was old but wiry, his skin a dull gray, and one eye was white from injury. Scars raked his broad cheeks as heavily as those that afflicted Flint’s brother Kyan. Once, Coltan, might have been handsome in a square-jawed way. Now, his was a visage of aged destruction.

There was a strange familiarity between the general and Coltan. General Ragiosa was decades younger, but bent her head to listen with trust and respect. They must be good friends.

Then General Ragiosa reacted to his inaudible comments by stepping back and shaking her head. “She’s different.”

He glanced in Flint’s direction. “We’ll see.”

Flint held Coltan’s gaze.

His good eye narrowed.

Galena’s audience turned to Coltan.

She naturally turned to follow their attention and broke off. “Leader Coltan. It is a great honor to meet you and speak of a peace our planets have long—”

“Yes, and no.” He waved a bent, scarred hand and talked over her, cutting her off. “Don’t talk to me like I’m your equal. They’re your equals.” He waved at the cleaning crew, farmers, chefs, and secretary that had gathered. “You have to convince them. We’re egalitarian here. Males can lead. There are no Empresses, no castes. No Palaces. All the things you hate.”

Galena forged a political smile Flint had seen her use on the Draconis advisers. “I came to address your assembly.”

“Assembly? In the middle of growing season?” He lifted both shoulders in a genial shrug and laughed. The others in the audience also laughed; only his fellow farmers remained stoic. “We can’t pull dragons in for this.”

“But Leader Coltan, this will be of great benefit for both our—”

“Just Coltan. Look.” He led her to a female she’d already spoken with. “Here’s a local farmer. Talk to her.”

He turned his back on Galena and walked away.

Her nostrils widened, her irises flared silver, and small spots of claws darkened her fingertips. She abruptly turned green and swallowed hard, shifted completely back to human, and caught Flint’s eye while she asked the farmer, “Do you have any questions about what we already talked about?”

“Well…” The farmer cast her gaze up at the broken ceiling. “I do wonder why we’re talking about this when the weather’s so nice out…”

“The weather will seem even nicer when you are enjoying uninterrupted trade with the rest of the Empire.”

“Yes, but…”

Flint tuned out the nonsensical conversation and grabbed Apatite. “Is this a joke?”

“It’s a test.” He watched in fascination. “One which others have failed. Kosmochlorians value patience and grace. I’d be surprised if these are simple farmers, though. I’m guessing this is the assembly.”

A new group of human-form dragons meandered in with stinking mud coating their coveralls up to their armpits.

Apatite gaped. “I could be wrong.”

Dragon after dragon arrived, all claiming to be nobody important, but interested in Galena’s speech. The hour grew late, and long shadows dimmed the amphitheater. Purple torches chased the darkness, and soon, the audience filled half the arena.

They were waiting for something, clearly.

But if it was for Galena to make the wrong move so they could turn on her… No. General Ragiosa was bored but relaxed, as was the rest of her escort crew. She wasn’t expecting trouble.

Anyone could get surprised…

“What are they waiting for?” Aeschynite murmured to Apatite, close enough for Flint to hear.

Apatite shook his head, still studying the crowd in fascination.

Galena’s voice was a little hoarse as she addressed the newest group of arrivals. “Imagine how much easier it will be to assemble when you don’t have to farm so hard. You can supplement with trade. You might even offer hospitality to guests.”

“Trade?” Coltan strode into the center of the assembly and laughed heartily. “You think we farm because of your trade restrictions?”

The assembled dragons all laughed.

Galena stared at him. “My council meetings are regulated by sustenance breaks. It’s amazing how efficient everyone is when a jelly-filled donut awaits.”

“If you are hungry, don’t whine at us. There is plenty of sustenance to be had. But Kosmochlor will have succumbed to heat death from the expanding sun before one of us serves you, Draconis Empress.”

She blinked at him, then rotated to Flint.

He followed directions to barrels of self-service food in their kitchen. The order seemed chaotic but, after a quick study, he returned with a heaping plate and a flask of pungent brown liquid that almost smelled like coffee.

His arrival touched off some sort of break. The farmers milled about, talking amongst themselves.

Galena shared a wide-eyed expression of frustration. She closed her eyes and leaned forward. They touched foreheads. Her hands shook. “Thanks.”

“You should rest.”

She nodded her agreement and ate aggressively from the plate. Around mouthfuls, she said, “I’ve got a little more. And I would stay up all night and the day after if they engaged me seriously. ‘We can’t assemble.’ Sure.” She bit the crunchy textures, gulped the flask. “Mm, tastes familiar, like the human food you served.”

He took a bite from some of her uneaten food. There were definite hints of lentils and spice. Sage? And chicken?

Galena sighed, fortified with food, and gazed out the broken archway at the starry sky. “We missed the sunset. It must have been beautiful. I wish we could have finished negotiations and enjoyed it.”

“Someday, we’ll come back and have a picnic.”

“Ha-ha.” The words were dry, but the lines around her eyes smoothed, and she captured his gaze with a sweet grin.

“Draconis Empress.” The door manager broke in a little more respectfully. “This is another farmer from the region of the kafe you’re drinking there. She wants to hear about your ideas.”

Galena swallowed her last mouthful, handed back the flask, and fixed her mouth into what Flint guessed was her attempt to smile. “Sure. Thanks, Flint. Let me tell you about my proposal…”

He finished her plate of food. It really was good. Was it native? He’d never bothered to ask his veteran brothers about their local experiences.

The amphitheater filled to three-quarters and grew loud. If the Colonists weren’t in mud-slicked farming coveralls, they’d almost look like the Draconis council at a divisive meeting.

His fellow Scholars had taken advantage of their general anonymity to huddle around one of their plates. They drew lines and debated. Erdite pored over supply notes as he crunched on an orange vegetable stick. The other two argued over a small green plant.

Flint gulped the last of the liquid so he could dispose of the empties and join them.

Hmm. The brown drink in the flask did taste like a form of Arabica. He’d tasted hundreds of coffees, and this had the scent of Madagascar, but a Peruvian aftertaste along with an unfamiliar wine-dark front note… He rolled the last sip around on his tongue. Where on Earth had exactly this terroir?

Leader Coltan sidled up to him and jabbed a stumpy index finger at Galena. “You with her?”

A bully. The way he crowded in reminded Flint of the bullies he’d faced in his life, most recently, Inspector Evansite.

It would be insulting to move back, so he put a chilling frost in his tone. “I’m the Empress’s consort, yes.”

“She seems real nice.” A cruel grin mocked his wrecked face and gleamed in his good eye. “What a shame she’s going to drop you for a better male as soon as she gets what she wants.”

Anger warmed Flint like the harsh bitterness of the kafe.

But he couldn’t stalk away. He was the Empress’s consort. A role model.

He took a moment to consider his words.

On the other periphery, Coltan’s somber farmer buddies kicked sand at the Scholars.

They closed rank to shelter their drawing, so focused they didn’t even notice the action was deliberate.

One farmer took a few steps back, then stumbled through the center of their group, overturning their plates and stomping on their drawings.

Apatite jolted to his feet. “Hey!”

Everyone fell silent.

The bigger male got in his face, chest out, pushing him. “You got a problem?”

“Be more careful. We’re working here.”

“Is that a problem for you?” the male repeated.

Erdite tugged Apatite. “Step away.”

“You talking to me?” the big male growled.

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no.”

Aeschynite gathered their materials. The trio hustled away, looking over their shoulders at the farmers who were being jerks.

The farmers milled around, shrugged at each other, and looked at Coltan directly.

Ah.

Flint had to snort at their failure. If they were trying to start a fight against a Scholar, they were going about it all wrong.

“You think I’m funny?” Coltan demanded. His aggression was not exactly forced, but, like the actions of his flunkies, it was calculated and slightly theatrical.

“Syllogism,” Flint replied. “Tautology. Assuming the premise. False equivalence. Do you want to ruffle a Scholar’s scales? That’s how you ruffle a Scholar’s scales.”

“So, you must be used to losing out to worthier males.”

Flint grinned and shook his head.

“Oh, no? You think you’re special? Some exception? She’s the Empress. You’re nothing. When she realizes she needs to marry some aristocrat to accomplish her next goal, you’ll be left crying. That’s how it always works.”

“An incisive analysis of the relationships of the previous Empresses. You should talk with Aeschynite. Trade theories.”

“You do think you’re the exception! Oh, no. You’re not,” Coltan sneered. “When she looks at you with those big silver eyes and promises she’ll love you forever, it’s only a matter of time before ‘the good of the Empire’ shoves you out of her life forever.”

Anger pulsed in his chest again.

But Flint would not alienate the other male. Galena needed every potential ally.

Flint transferred the empty plate and flask to one hand, using the physical distraction to cover his irritation. “My condolences.”

Coltan’s false smile hardened. “What?”

“For the loss of your wife.”

He didn’t react.

“It’s a nightmare—losing a mate, a mother of your future dragonlet—and one I could never really empathize with until Galena—”

Coltan’s expression didn’t change, and there was no warning.

His fist shot out, a blur at the lower right of Flint’s vision.

Smack.

That was the sound of his fist hitting the flesh of Flint’s unguarded throat.

Galena had been sensing quiet tension rising near her males at one side of the amphitheater, but she’d relied on the relaxed cues from the surrounding dragons. They were excited, interested, and some still actually listened to her worn-out speech about treaty benefits.

Then she heard the smack of flesh.

Flint collapsed. His hands clutched his throat.

Coltan’s fist was still extended.

He’d punched her mate in the throat!

Her heart stopped for one long beat.

Someone screamed

Not her.

Because she focused on levitating herself to Flint’s side.

He landed on the sandy ground and arched his back. Panicked eyes rolled in his head.

She landed beside him. “Flint? Flint, are you okay?”

His mouth opened and closed. Nothing came out.

“He can’t breathe.” She gathered him up to carry him to medical, wherever that was. “He can’t breathe!”

One of the military dragons grabbed her arm. “Put him down.”

“But he—”

“We have tools. Set him flat.” She guided Galena to return Flint to the sand, while another dragon—this one dressed as a farmer—unpacked an emergency medkit. The military dragon peeled Galena’s hands away. “Step back. Give him room to breathe.”

“But he can’t.”

He turned purple and then blue. His tongue poked out his mouth.

“We’re establishing his airway now,” the military dragon said soothingly.

Galena paced. The rest of the military pushed back the audience to a safe distance, and the flurry of activity from the medics did seem to bring results. A long endless hiss of air sounded, and his color finally improved. His tongue returned to the inside of his mouth.

Coltan stood at the edge of the crowd with a confused look on his face.

General Ragiosa smacked him on the back of the head. “What is wrong with you?”

He blinked, glanced at his fist, then uncurled it with a deeper frown. “I don’t…”

Rage filled Galena with frigid calm. “How dare you attack my consort?”

His head snapped up.

“How dare you attack my mate? The father of my unborn dragonlet? Unprovoked?”

“It was provoked. Mostly.”

“He said ‘my condolences,’” Apatite said bitterly. The other two Scholars nodded in an outraged huddle. “Flint said, ‘My condolences for the loss of your wife. It’s a nightmare, losing a mate,’ and how he never appreciated it until he met you. And then, bam. Coltan tried to kill him.”

Coltan moved his lips to the side of his face as though wishing to dispute it, but he did not.

General Ragiosa crossed her arms.

“My condolences…” Galena stalked in front of Coltan. Rage and the need to protect Flint burned so hot in her chest, she had to channel it into something. She couldn’t shift, and her scales shimmered against the need to bite, shake, toss the dead body of Flint’s attacker into a sun. Destroy him so he would never threaten Flint again.

But she couldn’t shift.

Her protective urge had to flatten into prickly cold anger.

“My condolences,” she repeated, louder, jerking his attention to her with a flare of matching rage. “For the loss of your wife, for the tragedies you’ve endured, and for the chance that you had today to end it. To turn an unofficial cease-fire,” she gestured open palmed at General Ragiosa, “into an official treaty with an adviser position, a trade agreement, virtually anything else you could ask for.”

She smacked her hand on her chest.

“I’m here. The Empress of Draconis came to you. My enemies call me crazy. Even my allies have their doubts. Crazy for having this idea, Flint and I, to end the war and change the entire Empire. Together, we have pushed open a window, and it flew open so fast, it almost broke. That’s our opportunity. And instead of going through it, ending this stupid standoff and flying into a brighter future, you attack my consort?”

“And harass your Scholars,” Apatite piped up.

“And harass my Scholars,” she continued, glaring at each and every one of the silent crowd. “Wasting the time that you could be enjoying your greatest triumph. No. It’s clear to me now that you have some other plan for your planet. For your dragonlets. And they don’t include the Empire. So, I’ll return to Draconis, and I’ll try to hold open that window as long as I can. Maybe you’ll want peace in another decade, or another generation, or another century. Because you’d rather hold on to the past than reach out for the future.”

Silence deafened the amphitheater.

The Kosmochlor dragons stared at her.

She would not stay another second while her consort was in pain.

Galena checked Flint’s condition. He recovered with every passing second, thank goodness. He sat up and pulled a full breath into his lungs. A dark bruise marred the gray scales protectively coating his throat.

“Can you move?” she asked.

He answered with a scratchy wince. “I think so.”

Galena glanced at the Scholars, mutely ensuring that they were with her, and turned imperiously to General Ragiosa. “We return to the ship.”

General Ragiosa dropped her arms. “I can explain.”

“I don’t require an explanation.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing!” Cutting rage flared in Galena’s chest. “You told me that the Kosmochlorians valued dispassionate reason over brute force. I believed you. And these dragons attacked my mate. In front of you. Without warning.”

General Ragiosa’s mouth snapped shut. Her head jerked back, and her spine stiffened.

“I vowed to you that I would not shift, and I will honor that vow. We are leaving now because if anything else happens to him, in human form or not, I will find a way to bring down this assembly and execute every one of you.”

She held their gazes again with the greatest intensity.

Then she helped Flint to stand. They were ready to move. “General.”

General Ragiosa pushed out her lips, shook her head at Coltan, and ordered her dragons into formation. They jumped to obey, a new efficiency about their movements. They’d arrived on a field holiday. They were leaving as a disciplined unit.

“Empress.” The door manager gently moved to intercept her with new respect. “I’m Norite, Secretariat of the Kosmochlor Assembly. Coltan is under my employ. I regret that he did not live up to the values that Kosmochlor does, in fact, esteem. The assembly intends to negotiate.”

Galena rested on her heels. Anger still pumped in her veins hot enough to sizzle. At this exact moment she could take or leave a treaty. “Negotiate?”

“Yes.” Norite waved forward the so-called fixture polisher. “Soapstone is Executor of Domestic Order. We won’t be brutalized or absorbed by any aristocrats.”

“No, you would have representation in the core council.”

“But the belligerence in your meetings is legendary.”

“I’ve instituted a human-only rule in the Palace. It’s cut down on the belligerence levels greatly.”

The secretariat called over the fruit peeler, who was actually in charge of interplanetary trade logistics. He spoke as gravely about trade as he did about fruit peeling. “You route all Empire-wide trade through Draconis, even goods that are intended for a planet’s neighbor. It’s an insurmountable problem.”

“Yes, I can see that a few hours’ delay is easier to overlook than several days’ delay. That will have to be worked out at the same time we review longer-distance trade along our new frontier, by Earth.”

Erdite abruptly began coughing in a loud and fake manner.

“Excuse me.” She left them standing in confusion and leaned toward the Scholars. “What is it?”

“They’re growing coffee,” Erdite said eagerly, eyes shining with discovery. “An Earth cultivar that takes five years to develop into a full tree. Aeschynite noticed the climate on the way down. They’ve already got trees and trade established, and if they are ready to export, the Empire will take it.”

After a brief discussion, she returned to the negotiations. “Sorry for the interruption.”

“Yes, I was saying that we won’t route all trade through Draconis,” the trade minister said.

“It sounds like you don’t already,” she said dryly. “What’s your export capacity for coffee?”

“Kafe?” The minister called over to another so-called farmer about internal production quotas. “Steady but growing. Why?”

“Because right now, it’s valued more highly than the most precious mineral. For now, we will only tax whatever you export to near-Draconis space, which includes the Outer Rim.”

“Well, that’s still a problem,” the minister said gravely. “Your dragons won’t let us land on Draconis because we’re not aristocrats.”

Various members of the assembly shouted out their long-held anger about the treatment by past rulers:

“We won’t suffer abuse by a Draconis family just to import trade you want.”

“Don’t you come to our planet, take our supplies, claim our lands—”

“No one forces us into a caste system! We never had it. We don’t need it. You don’t either, to be honest.”

Galena raised her voice to address their concerns. “I can’t dismantle the caste system overnight.”

“We can’t sign a treaty with you looking down your snout,” the secretariat told her, and the others emphatically agreed. “I’m sorry, Draconis Empress. You’ll have to shut that window.”

“Flint and my Scholars believe there’s another option.”

“Oh, there’s no other option.”

“What if I recognize Kosmochlor as its own aristocratic house?”

They blinked at her.

“But then you can’t lord your superiority over us,” one of the farmers called out.

“Correct.” Galena smiled for the first time in a long time. “I have a lot to do on Draconis, and you seem to be ruling yourselves just fine. All I want is a chance to develop a friendship. And to import many tons of that dark brown liquid stimulant you call kafe.”

Everyone looked stunned, and then they began talking in earnest.

Galena was no longer at her best, but with Flint healing in front of her and the engagement of her new allies, she dove into the work.

Some hours later, Coltan approached the group.

Galena placed herself protectively in front of Flint. His Scholars drew around him so he was guarded within guards. She glared at the leader. “What do you want?”

“You listen to your males,” Coltan said.

“I told you she was different,” General Ragiosa said from the side.

“It’s not common on Draconis.” He glanced at the secretariat and the others, who greatly respected him. “I am informed that you need our military to retake your throne. Your enemies have displaced you.”

“Yes, any Empress who prefers peace over domination is labeled crazy.”

“If you don’t know, I was once called the Mad General. Working together could secure your legacy. The ‘crazy’ one, I mean.”

“I will bear any name to end the war.”

He looked at the secretariat, who gave a slight nod. “Very well. Prepare your allies for your triumphant return!”

On the short return shuttle, while Flint received more extensive medical treatment and his Scholars huddled nearby, General Ragiosa sidled close to Galena. “You didn’t shift when your mate got attacked. That’s not exceptional control, that’s impossible control unless something else is going on. Is there something you want to say?”

“I did what was required,” Galena said stiffly.

“Uh-huh. And he’s the father of your ‘future’ dragonlet?”

She faced General Ragiosa directly. The female wanted blunt? Galena could be blunt. “What do you want?”

“To figure out if you’re even gutsier than I gave you credit for.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. Right.” She headed off to dock their small shuttle. “We rendezvous with the fleet in twenty-eight hours, then continue to Draconis.”

They all exited into the larger return ship.

Medics situated Flint comfortably in a body-contouring bed to rest and left. The Scholars set up their strategy board and dragged over supplies.

Galena flew to Flint. “General Ragiosa knows my condition.”

Her smart, steadfast, generous lover pulled her into a comforting hug. She balanced on the edge of the bed so as not to put weight on the soft material and change the shape. Flint pressed her full weight down so the foam contoured around the two of them.

“Aeschynite has a theory,” he said.

“Not that I’m saying I believe this,” Aeschynite cautioned. The others diagrammed battles and timelines behind him. “Because I have documented a highly credible alternative. But if Empress Horribus did have shifter sickness and bore a first secret heir, she could only have done so during her disappearance, which began at the Battle of Betrayal. It was the last time conditions were right to negotiate a trade treaty with Kosmochlor. Outer Tribe separatists bombed the treaty ship, and Empress Horribus lost contact with the fleet and the Empire.”

“Interestingly, this battle is where Coltan lost his wife,” Erdite said. “But while we don’t have access to the full archives, we have been utterly unable to find any information about his wife in any of our notes. Not a single mention. And unlike most Colonists—er, Kosmochlorians—he never erected a memorial until this year.”

“I documented it during our stroll to the assembly.” Aeschynite showed the bust in a view screen. “Look familiar?”

“No,” Galena said.

“The hint is in the claw.” Aeschynite tapped the curved nail appearing at the lower corner. “The only Empress regularly depicted with this ragged claw in Kosmochlorian iconography is Empress Horribus.”

“You think my mother disappeared for a year to have a secret heir with Coltan?”

“She did sleep her way across the Empire,” Flint said.

“But he was the leader of her enemies.”

“And yet, right before the treaty signing, she would have expected them to enjoy a long future together as trade partners.”

It was plausible…

Erdite took over. “After the Battle of Betrayal, the Draconian military conducted brutal, ongoing, and frenzied searches of the city. They occupied the capital. Flint’s grand-dragon was a first-level sergeant assigned to Coltan’s section of the city.”

“Everyone’s grand-dragon did military service in that era,” Flint said. “It was required to keep aristocratic status. I thought his service was negligible. A line in the archives.”

“Which I read, by the way,” Erdite said, “and it was, in fact, a negligible line. But it’s the only connection. The only possibility that makes sense of all the facts. Flint’s grand-dragon or his patrol found Empress Horribus during one of the city searches. She must already have been suffering from shifter sickness. Returning to a fractured Empire where she had to shift all the time to maintain order would have put her in a vulnerable state. Flint’s grand-dragon kept her discovery a secret until after she gave birth, and then she had a more public ‘first’ pregnancy later.”

“So that’s why Empress Horribus gave an audience to Flint and later agreed to offer marriage to his siblings?” Galena asked. “And that’s also why General Ragiosa said the military owed a favor to him, not to me? They were referring to how his grand-dragon had secretly saved Empress Horribus and never been recognized for his service.”

“Not for two generations,” Erdite agreed, and the other Scholars nodded.

“And you think Coltan sired one of my half-siblings… No wonder he was so bitter when you consoled him for his loss. He must actually have cared for my mother, and he would have had no idea what was coming because he would have been the first one she dumped. Oh, and then he invaded Draconis…”

“That may have been the act of a male trying to help rather than a bitter former lover,” Aeschynite said. “At the time of the attack, Empress Horribus was over nine months pregnant and had to put down an uprising. By the time the Kosmochlor fleet arrived, she’d mostly regained control, and although Coltan fought his way into the Palace, the Kosmochlor army up and left at her word to go. Of course, there was a bit of a backlash, and tempers were hot for another decade or so.”

“Huh. So there’s another heir.” Galena explored the complications. “One who never challenged me for the throne. I guess the heir could be male.”

“Or,” Erdite drew out the syllable, “the heir could have snuck into the military, rocketed through the ranks with unusual effectiveness at resolving conflicts with the Kosmochlorians, and become general of the largest fleet of the Empire.”

“Or…oh.” Galena studied their conclusions on the strategy board. “Hmm. She missed her chance to fight me for Empress.”

“She probably thought she was doing something more important.”

Galena loosed a long breath. “Is it better to retake the throne with a general who prefers Helvine, or a general who has a rightful claim to the throne herself?”

Apatite frowned as though she’d misunderstood. “He’s saying General Ragiosa is the secret heir to—”

“She gets it.” Flint snugged her against his chest. “And the answer to your question is that we’ll find out. I, for one, feel better for solving the mystery of why Empress Horribus ever allowed me into her cavern years ago. She didn’t know my reasons for asking to see her, only my name, and yet she allowed me in to tell her my whole plan. I dismissed it at the time, but it is odd.”

“You thought you got in based on your charm?”

“No.” He snuggled her. “But subconsciously, yes, I really did think something like that. Probably because, against all laws of nature, I managed to attract a female like you.”

Her heart warmed. She nuzzled him. “You are feeling better.”

“Much.”

“Good.” Galena was ready for what was to come next. There was still fear, but she accepted it and carried on. She’d always put trust in others, and now that trust was tempered by a detailed understanding of their plan. She wasn’t only confident in her team. She was also confident of herself.

They were going to defeat her enemies and change the Empire.

* * *

They met up with the fleet, finished the journey to Draconis, and prepared for landing.

Today, Flint did not hold a perfect plan in his head and execute it alone. He’d called in everyone.

Everyone.

Luckily, Helvine had kept the rule of humans-only in the Palace, probably to disguise her injuries that interfered with shifting.

It worked for him.

He donned a gray single-breasted notch-lapel suit, crisp black shirt with black tie, and folded a black silk kerchief into the pocket. Flint touched the fading bruise at his throat. Dragon medics didn’t waste medical supplies on small discomforts such as bruises except when the location could lead to life-threatening swelling. So, in a way, he’d lucked out that Coltan had tried to murder him instead of settling on, say, painful disfigurement.

Galena adjusted her gown. The loose, shimmery silver fabric disguised her bump, and diamond strings glittered as decorative straps. She tugged at one strap, a frown marring her satisfaction. “When I asked you for an outfit that minimized my human vulnerability and emphasized the potential of our shared galactic future, I imagined something more dramatic.”

“This is the base. The rest is coming.”

“The rest?”

General Ragiosa’s voice broke over the communicator. “Flint, your fast courier from Space Voyages Inc. has hailed us. They want to meet with the Empress before we dock.”

“That’s our cue.” Flint asked the general to accommodate the courier. In short order, his perfection-in-a-suit brother Alexandrite Onyx navigated a large, hovering trunk into their room.

Alex met the Empress with cold caution. His exotic teal-and-lavender eyes studied her critically, and in minutes, he expertly arranged her hair into a stylish updo that looked both effortless and casual.

“The sheer kaftan you requested Mal to make turned out well.” Alex draped the black gauze over Galena’s shoulders and arranged the sleeves. The long front and back panels interacted with the material underlayer to make the silver sparkle like gemstones.

Galena pinched it with a soft smile. “This is closer.”

“And this…”

Alex dragged a massive set of black gauze-covered dragon wings from the trunk. He unfolded them into a metal skeleton, then bolted the skeleton together and rested it against her shoulder blades. He affixed the front cage across her chest and studied the result with a frown.

“Problem?” Flint asked.

“Many. It was quite the request. We couldn’t get it done in time, and that’s why Jasper had to beg Space Voyages Inc. for their fastest courier.” Alex got out a mobile view screen.

Jasper’s face appeared on the small screen.

Alex pointed him at the metal frame. “Is it lying right?”

“The wings should blend in against the fabric of the dress like a long train.” Jasper bowed to Galena over the comm. “Hello, Empress. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you.”

“Flint, creating this with your specifications was nearly impossible. I promise you, it’s never been seen anywhere else in the Empire. Please take a video. I must show Rose why I’ve been pulling all-nighters.”

“You’ll see it,” Flint promised. “It will broadcast live across the Empire.”

“Empress, when you flex your shoulders as if to shift, do more of a shrug motion, and the wings will extend to their full capacity,” Jasper said.

She lifted her shoulders. “Should I try it?”

“No!” Alex and Jasper on the view screen both shouted at the same time.

“There’s not enough room.” Alex pointed at the low cathedral ceiling of the military ship.

“It’s quite a spread,” Jasper agreed. “In fact, for safety, make sure no one is to your sides by, oh, twenty or thirty feet. Just to be safe.”

She strode forward, dragging the wings as a train, and moved side to side. “They’re that big? But it’s so light.”

“Yes, well, if constructing ships no longer becomes lucrative, perhaps Space Voyages Inc. will turn to unusually engineered fashion.” Jasper smiled at Flint. “After they finish constructing effigies of you to burn, of course.”

“They’ll be happy with me after today,” he said.

“And here.” Alex handed Galena a small card. “From our resident Art Director.”

Galena took the small square. It had an illustration of a cute dragon wearing a sparkling black dress with small fairy wings. At her feet perched a proud Bengal.

She gasped. “Is that Kitty?”

“And you,” Flint said.

“This is… I’ll treasure it.” She flipped it to the back. Chunky letters spelled out, To the Empire’s #1 Empress, Love, Cheryl. “I’m going to commission a hundred portraits.”

“Of you?” Flint asked.

“Kitty.” She pressed the small card to her chest, then gave it to Flint for safekeeping. “Thank you. You have brought so many delights into my life.”

Alex bowed. “The Onyx Corporation thanks you for your business.”

“Of course.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Of course.”

“This is your final warning.” General Ragiosa’s announcement filled the room. “We are arriving on-planet.”

They closed the call with Jasper and floated down to the ship’s main exit. The military dragons lined up behind Galena in parade beige.

Flint gripped Alex’s elbow. “You could join the audience.”

“A low-caste dragon from the Outer Rim? How could I endanger my pretty face?” Alex’s exotic irises gleamed with cold amusement. “Nicole will kill me if I take unnecessary risks now, of all times. We’ll tour the Palace after you’ve restored the Empress, spread intergalactic peace, and also abolished the caste system. Mal’s still waiting on that, you know.”

“Ask me to do something hard next time,” Flint replied with a grin.

Alex returned his smile, bid him farewell, and flew to a safe place.

If this all went wrong, Alex would escape off-planet, either with the military or a courier. He knew his options because Flint had shared the information.

Flint joined Galena.

The military dragons in the giant bay quieted in anticipation.

Galena held out her hand. “This was your idea. You should be with me.”

He remained firmly behind her. “This was our idea, and I am with you. Always.”

She closed her hand into a fist, her last doubts replaced by rare nerves. “You know I’m never going to leave you, right? I’m not my mother. Even if it’s politically expedient, the only male I’m ever having my dragonlets with is you.”

His chest tightened.

“You’re my mate, Flint. I’m never leaving you.”

He tried to disguise how much her vow affected him with a quick smile. “That’s good, because I will always be right behind you.”

She blinked and then matched his grin. The doors cracked open. She blew him a kiss and turned to face the next challenge with a confident smile.

* * *

The giant bay doors opened to reveal the main port.

Port security had assembled in force. Weapons were trained on them.

Galena floated forward. “Lower your weapons. I am your Empress!”

“Empress.” The head of port security bowed. “You cannot lead a foreign army on Draconis soil.”

“I’m—”

“She’s not leading a foreign army, you brimstone belcher, she’s leading the Draconis army!” the general snarled from behind Galena.

“General Ragiosa!” The security head stiffened, and everyone snapped to attention. “We heard—”

“You heard wrong because you didn’t answer my hails! And that’s the last time you ignore me on a secure channel.” The general floated in front of the white female and shouted, “Do you understand?”

The security head cringed. “General! Yes, General!”

“I’ll have you polish the outside of my ship with your tail scales! Every one of you!”

“General! Yes, General!” the rest of security echoed.

Although port security was theoretically run by the Palace, all had done tours in the military, and their unconscious allegiance to the first authority figure—General Ragiosa—was what Galena and the others had banked on.

Flint caught her eye and smiled.

First hurdle successfully passed.

Galena floated through the cleared, empty port. The rest of the Draconis fleet streamed behind her.

“Cavern-bound land dragons,” General Ragiosa muttered.

No one stopped the subsequent landing of Kosmochlorian ships, and the Kosmochlorian armies that fell in beside the Draconis soldiers. Coltan floated up next to General Ragiosa and Galena. His soldiers intermixed in a sequence the Scholars had recommended to make it impossible to pick off one side or the other.

Coltan sucked in a deep breath and let it out with a gust. “Disgusting! Just like I remember. Barren as your mother’s heart, huh?”

“I didn’t really know her,” Galena said, and then realized that he was looking at General Ragiosa when he’d spoken.

“Nobody did.” He awkwardly nodded at Flint and turned to the plains separating the port from the Palace. “Your triumph awaits. Come.”

Galena rose and flew out of the port. General Ragiosa and Coltan flanked her, and then their dragons—Flint and the Scholars, General Ragiosa’s seconds, and Coltan’s unsmiling farmers now wearing hardened battle gear—and then the vast intermixed armies.

In front of them spread an army of the five houses, led by House Palladium.

Her house’s army was a good size, well equipped and trained, and could possibly have defended the Palace from the Kosmochlorians or the Draconis military. But it could never stand against the combined forces.

Her father floated in front.

He was no warrior and never had been. The defensive garb looked puffy and inadequate on his scales. He flapped his great wings. He towered over them in dragon form, but his dominance was an illusion, and they all knew it.

“What have you done?” He growled in impotent rage. “Your insanity has brought the enemy to our soil.”

“Glaucodot Palladium,” Galena called formally. “You stand before the Empress of Draconis. We can speak as allies or die as enemies. But if all you have to offer is insults, get out of my way.”

He abruptly shifted to human. The battle gear dangled off his body. He shrank into a male younger than Coltan, and certainly less hardened. He looked at General Ragiosa in particular with betrayal. “How could you do it?”

“Serve the Empress?” General Ragiosa clarified his question in a way that made him flinch. “Doing my duty wasn’t hard.”

He flew back to Galena. “Your ideas. Crazy has a dangerous kind of contagion. What did it cost us? The future? The Empire? Everything?”

She smiled. “I love you, Father. I always will.”

His brows drew down.

“And now you will respect the Empress.” Galena plowed forward, forcing him to leap out of her way. “Armies of the five families! You serve the Empire. Join us!”

General Ragiosa and Coltan both raised their fists and echoed her scream. “Join us!”

The combined military echoed it with a roar that echoed up the craggy mountains all the way to the Palace. “Join us!”

Her cousins led the first line of combatants. They saw her determined flight spearing them straight through the center, wavered, and then dove to the sides. House Palladium’s army split down the middle. Galena flew between them unopposed.

The other five family armies also split, and then, almost as an afterthought, joined the back of hers into a mega-army.

Not a single weapon fired and not a single claw slashed.

Galena led the way to the Dragon Gate.

Palace guards sealed the entrance.

The weight and energy of the combined armies behind her couldn’t be stopped. They were like an avalanche and would crash against these walls hard enough to crack them.

Galena did not come to destroy the Palace today.

She flew up the walls into the sky.

The armies flew behind her.

She soared over the heavily guarded parapets and startled the circling low castes over the open air grand amphitheater. “Listen, everyone! We hold the full council meeting. Inform your matriarchs and houses!”

The low castes and overwhelmed guards scattered.

Galena descended into the grand amphitheater.

The air swirled with chaos. Aristocrats claimed their tiers. Kosmochlorians filled the center arena. Low-caste dragons flocked overhead.

She claimed the stage and approached the guarded entrance. “Tell my half-sister and the rest of the dragons hiding inside we are signing a treaty today with or without them. And if it’s without them, I will appoint their representatives.”

One peeled away with the message.

“And tell Linarite I need her right away!”

Linarite pushed through. “My Empress, I am here.”

“Good.” Galena clutched her forearm. “How is Kitty?”

Linarite’s face clouded.

Galena’s heart dropped. She couldn’t breathe. “Don’t tell me. During my absence she expired?”

“No, she is alive. But is she meant to sleep for hours every day?”

Galena let her breath out in a gust. “Yes.”

“And then run from one end of a room to the other and back again? Over and over? At night?”

“Especially at night.”

Linarite’s face returned to its normal impassivity. “She will be happy to return to her matriarch.”

“Yes, thank you. Flint told me you had been replaced.”

Her gaze fell. “Due to a question of my allegiance…”

“You are reinstated. Flint has work for you to complete before we finish today’s treaty. Speak with him.”

“Yes, Empress!”

Galena let her security dragon go and stepped back to watch. The guards still regarded her with impassivity. But the advisers of the council and the five families streamed into the amphitheater and took their places. The armed factions swelled, but her human-only rule had been sustained.

The advisers and five families knew they were at a historic crossroads.

She would push through today.

The Empire would change forever.

And one wrong move would shatter this alliance for untold centuries.

Flint finished his instructions to Galena’s security dragon, Linarite, and then waved to Galena.

They had to succeed today.

Even though, in these final moments, there was little he could do to change the outcome, he trusted that he’d placed all the pieces correctly. Now they would find out if he’d done enough.

She seemed to be looking for a crier.

Usually, a dragon would begin the “Empress! Empress!” chant and there would be a silent, respectful viewing of her as the Empress. But there was no crier, and the chant didn’t start. Just as Flint had predicted. No one would run this meeting for her. They were on their own.

She glanced at him.

He nodded slightly. They were ready.

Galena flew up from the stage and floated in the center of the amphitheater.

The Kosmochlorians, led by Coltan, gave piercing whistles that abruptly cut off. It was effective. Silence fell across the amphitheater.

“My dragons of the Empire,” Galena called, her clear voice echoing across the space and reaching every dragon, “you witness a historic moment that will never be forgotten. The day the wars ended and all dragons united into one Empire!”

Her audience listened intently to her impassioned speech rehearsed ad infinitum on Kosmochlor and now executed with exquisite precision on Draconis. Her dress shimmered, a subtle reminder of the scales beneath her human skin. She was radiant, and yet so herself as she spoke to them from her heart.

Flint had changed so much since beginning this journey.

But Galena only claimed her destiny. With her last doubts burned away, she looked fierce.

“Today I have brought before you a treaty of friendship.” She gestured at a stone monolith the military had placed in the center of the amphitheater. “We end the long war and welcome the adviser from noble House Kosmochlor.”

“Noble?” The matriarch of House Adamantine rose. Even in human form, she was a dominant female with great bulk and aged cunning. “They are the descendants of our outcast low castes. They will never be fit to rule!”

Disgruntled aristocrats shouted in agreement.

“If the Empress elevates those low castes, then what about the rest of us?” another demanded. “Everyone’s going to want the privilege that aristocrats earn with superior worth and cold, hard coin.”

“What an excellent question,” Galena boomed, shocking everyone. “How many aristocrats currently are earning their ‘worth’ with cold, hard coin? Let’s ask my newly appointed Ambassador of Off-Draconis Business.”

A massive view screen ascended overhead, filling the center of the amphitheater.

The view screen flickered, and Mal’s square-jawed visage filled the screen. “I already told you, I don’t want to be an aristocrat! The Onyx Corporation is the number one business outside of Draconis, again, and we got there by hard work alone. Nothing to do with aristocrats!”

“Except we had to use the Carnelian ports on Draconis because we’re not aristocrats,” Amber reminded him. She sat at a conference table behind Mal.

“Well, anyway! Flint sent me the fiscal reports of the top companies on Draconis. My chief financial officer took a look.” Mal gestured to the demure Amber.

She organized her neat pages of spreadsheets. “According to the last quarter’s records submitted to the Palace, if you combined the lists, the top company on Draconis would only be number eighty out of all businesses on or off the main planet.”

Growls of disbelief filled the amphitheater.

“Projections for next quarter place them even lower. The top company on Draconis specializes in luxury experiences for aristocrats at the ice baths and spas. They are somewhere below the Earth company that exports three types of cheese.”

Mal grinned with all his teeth. “So you see, we are eighty times better than all of you so-called aristocrats, and you can keep your meaningless titles while I hoard mountains of wealth for myself and my dragonlets!”

Amber lowered the spreadsheets. “We are not eighty times better. More like seventeen times.”

“Close enough!” He snarled at the screen. “I wouldn’t be an aristocrat if you paid me eighty times over either.”

“Mal—”

The connection cut. The view screen automatically descended back into its storage space beneath the stage.

“Eighty times?” one adviser repeated.

“Who cares about coin?” an aristocrat shouted. “Coin can’t buy history or legacy. We have estates to run. Low castes are mud-scales who stink!”

A great uproar followed, the Draconians protesting and the Kosmochlorians roaring.

Into this chaos, Flint signaled.

His second-oldest sibling, radioactive Pyro, bellowed out the start-of-meeting chant. “Empress! Empress! Empress!”

Alex hadn’t risked entering the amphitheater, but Pyro had jumped at the chance to stir up trouble with any self-important aristocrats. His wife, Amy, was home on Earth with their daughter and had stunned Flint by being supportive of her bad-boy husband’s rebellious streak.

“He’s not flipping tables and lighting up cars just for destruction,” she’d said when Flint had pressed. “He’s always had a strong moral code. This is breaking your laws for a just reason. I support him, and his daughter is going to grow up proud of her dad for standing up for what he believes in.”

Right now, what Pyro believed in was maximum volume.

His gung-ho roaring, from where he was standing, disguised, next to a somewhat mortified Sard Carnelian, caught the attention of the rest of the dragons.

The Kosmochlorians and military picked up the chant. “Empress! Empress! Empress!”

And that was when the guards on the stage parted and Helvine entered.

Cleverly, it now looked as though the chant was for Helvine instead of affirming Galena.

Their enemies were clever.

Flint signaled to Galena.

It took critical seconds for her to notice, during which the rest of the dragons focused on Helvine.

“You are not Empress,” Helvine said. Dark shadows still haunted her face, and she clung to human form with the angularity of recovery, but her claws were steady when she held them out in accusation. “You abandoned the Palace.”

“As planned.” Galena landed on the stage. Her arms spread with warmth. “Helvine, thank you for watching over my Palace while I forged a long-desired peace with Kosmochlor.”

“You haven’t forged a peace.” Venom riddled her sharp tone. “You’ve let in an army.”

“An army of the Empire, bound by friendship, to ensure a vast and profitable future.” They faced off against each other like two titans, a repeat of their last encounter, but this time, Galena was favored to win. “It is a dream you and I both shared.”

“A dream,” Helvine repeated, “that you abandoned when you left the Palace.”

“To bring the first signatory of the treaty,” Galena insisted and turned. Her flowing dress sparkled. “The first adviser of House Kosmochlor, Coltan.”

A shocked gasp whipped through the amphitheater.

Coltan flew to the stone monolith. “I solemnly promise not to blacken your other tower.”

Galena raised a brow as though to ask if he were serious right now.

He pushed his index finger up to the correct hole of the monolith, extended his claw, and used the ceremonial dagger to slice off the tip. It glittered with his colors, a dot in the monolith. He examined his claw, now missing the tip, and stepped back. “I could conquer you, but I’d rather sell you coffee. Your Empress seems to think you want it. And if she can get you to agree to anything logical, rather than bluster for foppish importance’s sake, I won’t be embarrassed to call her my Empress too.”

The Draconis dragons growled.

“Thank you,” Galena said dryly.

“That’s a big ‘if.’” He eyed the Adamantine matriarch. “See you in the council meetings.”

The rumblings increased.

“There will be a period of adjustment,” Galena noted, uncompromising in her announcement. “But three of the five matriarchs have already pledged their support for this treaty. The next signatory should now sign.”

The houses moved with unrest as they tried to guess which of the three had already pledged support. Whoever pledged support last would be disfavored in future dealings.

But if Galena was bluffing and she didn’t have the support, then whoever signed would look like a weak, mindless follower.

Flint had made bets with the other Scholars about whether and who would fall for her bluff. It was a bluff, but it was a good one. There was a nice Earth wine riding on the outcome. He bet that Iolite of House Ironstone would figure out a way to sign third.

Helvine took the attention again. “You can’t do this.”

Galena answered. “It’s already done.”

“Not the treaty. You abandoned the throne.”

“This has been a trying time for you, Helvine, with your health and your brain injury, so I forgive you for being confused.”

“I’m not confused. You left!”

“Never happened.”

“No, it did happen!” Aunt Realgar huffed from below the stage where she’d been hovering in a shadow. “You left, and Helvine is the Empress now. The core council affirmed her right.”

“Then that was irresponsible. An Empress is allowed to visit any planet in her Empire. She isn’t removed for stepping claw outside the Palace.”

“I challenge you.” Helvine’s voice wavered.

A low murmur sounded over the crowd.

Galena tipped her head. “Out of respect for your ongoing recovery, I will pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“She challenges you!” Aunt Realgar shouted. “You must answer. Helvine, attack!”

Helvine flexed her fingers. Her scales shifted forth with agonizing slowness.

Lavendulan, the matriarch of Palladium, flew to the stage and rested a kind hand on Helvine’s half-scaled forearm. “I can’t let you do this.”

Tears filled Helvine’s eyes. “But I was supposed to be Empress. I deserved it. She stole it from me.”

“Fight!” Aunt Realgar insisted. “You can beat her with nothing but a well-placed slash of claws!”

Lavendulan frowned at Aunt Realgar. “House Palladium isn’t composed of hot-blooded idiots. Our adviser must be the same.”

“But you must see it! She’s the same as Horribus. Galena has shifter sickness.”

Galena paled. Silver shimmered under her black skin. The accusation was so dangerous, the winds could be heard whistling above the mountain.

“Another stupidity,” Coltan said in a conversational tone easily audible in the silence. “Half of them have it and like to pretend they don’t. Foppish vanity.”

Lavendulan dropped her hand from Helvine’s forearm. “Is it true?”

Galena lifted her head high. “It’s true that I am pregnant.”

The dragons leaned in to hear.

She sucked in a deep breath. “And it’s also true I cannot fight. If you force a formal challenge, I will appoint a dragon to fight for me.”

Silence greeted her not-confession.

The dangerous tension extended.

General Ragiosa floated forward. “I will.”

Flint’s tension released. This was the one move they hadn’t predicted with certainty. He’d had backup plans, but this was the best outcome.

The uproar grew loud again as the Draconis dragons who hadn’t realized they were among greatness now discovered that Galena essentially ruled the military.

But for Helvine, the betrayal on her face meant she took it more personally. “General!”

“Sorry, Commander. I disagree with how we got here, but I can’t deny this is the future of the Empire. All flights lead to Draconis. And it’s time to open up all flights.”

Behind Flint, one of the advisers panic-announced to another, “She secured the head of the military!”

Advisers rushed the stone monolith, determined not to be the last to sign, and the house matriarchs swiftly jostled to the front. Iolite conveniently reached between dragons in line and plucked the dagger to make herself the third signatory. Erdite was going to owe him a bottle of red.

General Ragiosa flew to replace Lavendulan at Helvine’s side.

Helvine collapsed on her arm, but tried to stiffen in the proper military salute. “I will not fight if Galena has earned the respect of a dragon such as you.”

“Smart choice, Commander.”

Galena caught Flint’s eye.

He nodded to let her know that all the necessary dragons had signed.

She flew to the monolith and added her claw. The different tips of all colors sparkled like jewels. She flew over the center of the amphitheater and thrust out her arms, shoulders hunched in the shrug.

“For the Empire!”

Her dress wings unfurled.

Black gauze stretched tight. Silver stars spattered the fabric in the constellations of the Empire, and three planets glowed: Draconis, Kosmochlor, and Earth.

Flint smirked. One of his siblings had snuck that third planet in.

But it was the right choice.

They had gotten this far because of Earth.

Because of coffee, and art, and true love, and family.

Galena’s wings sparkled with iridescent diamonds. Each star glowed, and the rest of the planets of the Empire stood out, one after another. The Outer Rim, the Outer Tribes, the mines and asteroids.

The dragons roared.

They were now one Empire.

In the aftermath, his mother swooped down to meet him.

“Flint!” She regarded him with noble bearing, her towering human form covered in a thick gold bathrobe. “I am so pleased you will soon give me another grand dragonlet. You have done me proud.”

His chest lifted. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Is there any chance it might be twins?”

“No.”

“Hm.” She frowned. “Then there is still some time until I overtake Ferocia. Treasure your mate, Flint! Just because she’s the most powerful being in the Empire, that’s no excuse not to shower her with every gesture of love.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Of course you do.” Her face, stiff with the unfamiliarity of taking human form, cracked into a pleased smile. “You were always my wise dragonlet. One thing does surprise me, however.”

“What’s that?”

“I recently received an invitation to speak about your youth at the Flint Onyx Fashion Society.” She clutched her hands to her chest. “Did I not tell you that you were the most handsome dragon? Now, finally, you receive the recognition you deserve!”

With that surprise, she left him to go find and brag to her closest friend, Ferocia Carnelian.

Shortly afterward, while still reeling with the news that he was likely to be more famous for his gray suits than for his meticulously planned theories, Flint found himself near Iolite. They exchanged pleasantries.

“My adviser passed an invitation to visit the Palace archives,” Iolite said, looking much more like a Scholar and much less like a regal matriarch. “I will take you up on it. I have many private areas of research I wish to pursue once my duties ruling the House have settled into routine.”

“If they ever do,” he said. “I hope your adviser now understands we’re on the same side.”

Adviser Malicia crossed her arms. “You can’t say you’ve brought peace to the Colonies until you’ve dealt with the Outer Tribes.”

Flint turned to Iolite. “It seems your adviser would like to volunteer to our task force on how to forge peace with the Outer Tribes—without violence.”

Iolite eyed her adviser. “Mm. That’s funny. I thought she wanted to occasionally see her husband and dragonlet.”

“Hey! Without violence? That’s not possible.”

“Our Empress forged peace without violence,” he reminded her. “She forged peace without even shifting.”

Adviser Malicia considered Galena with new skepticism, then the Kosmochlorians. “Is that really Leader Coltan? I always thought he was wilder.”

Galena folded her wings and sank to the stage, where she was surrounded by a surge of dragons all pledging their loyalty.

Flint went to her.

There was still one thing left to do before they could call this a triumph.

Galena waded through the aftermath of the historic treaty signing.

After days of planning and hours of execution, she was ready to rest.

But instead, she listened to the logistics of installing Coltan as an adviser, how he would live in the Palace, and the details of moving Helvine and her family back to House Palladium under the care of matriarch Lavendulan.

Passing advisers talked themselves into accepting the new situation and made her smile.

“There’s only one house for the Colonies versus all of ours,” one adviser told the other. “We still have the advantage.”

Flint, who was making his way to her, also overheard and caught her eye with a smirk.

How little they knew.

She eased away from the Adviser to the Palace and snuck toward Flint.

Adviser Baryte stopped her partial escape. “Expect to hear complaints from the low castes, Empress. It won’t seem fair that the lowest dragons on Kosmochlor get to be aristocrats while the richest dragons in the Outer Rim can’t achieve that rank.”

“I empower my consort to hear the cases.” She grinned at Flint. “He’ll give priority to anyone with a stamped metal crest.”

Adviser Baryte blinked at the pair of them. “It will be done, my Empress.”

“Very good.” Galena swayed to Flint and lowered her voice. “Linarite said our chambers are ready.”

He linked their hands. “I’m ready too.”

They lifted off in unison and flew through the caverns of the Palace. After so long of it being only the core advisers and whoever she could assemble for security, now it overflowed with military, Kosmochlorian soldiers, and houses filled to the brim with dragons all respectfully in human form. The buzz and hum of excitement filled the caverns with new energy. The future was bright.

Galena yawned. Her metal wings dragged like the rest of her. “When this is over, I’m going to sleep for a week.”

Flint jerked his gaze from the corridors and centered on her bump. “Are you well?”

“Fine.” She relaxed in their private chambers, the only quiet area in the whole Palace. She really needed to get on hiring security now. Flint’s half-packed trunk still rested by an odd burn mark.

Flint peered around the room as though seeing it for the first time.

“Linarite’s bringing Kitty over shortly.”

“I know.”

Galena curled her arms around his neck and pressed her belly to his suggestively. “We could make other uses of our time…”

“Sure.” Flint helped her out of the dragon wings. “You look tired.”

“Exhaustion is normal after what we’ve been through.” She began to shimmy out of her dress.

He tugged the dress back on. “And you shifted.”

“Just one nail.” She examined the missing tip of her ring finger, then wiggled her stunted claws. “You know, I had to use up one tip on the coronation, one on taking possession of the Palace, and one on making you my consort. This is why dragons don’t sign many treaties. I’m running out of nails. How long will they take to grow back? It looks odd.”

“Earth humans sign treaties with ink.”

“That could lend itself to abuse. They must sign for absolutely everything.”

He tilted his head, acknowledging the risk. “Amusing story. The day we signed the Dragon-Human Treaty of Earth, no one had mentioned our practice to the secretariat of the newly formed Federated Countries of Earth, and he had recently undergone a human ‘manicure’ to remove the dead portion.”

“What was he thinking?” she laughed.

“Surprise, I believe. It took some effort, but he was able to shave off a small bit and pasted it to the stone. It now rests in the safest location where the least amount of atmosphere will disturb it.”

“Oh? Isn’t Earth covered in thick, breathable atmosphere? Where’s that?”

“The Earth moon.”

“Fascinating.” She melted into his arms and lifted her lips for a kiss.

He stroked her cheek. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Later.”

“It’s about—”

“No.” She rubbed her breasts against his well-cut sexy suit. “Love me. I order you. I’m the Empress.” And she followed it with her deeply held, totally devoted, sexy-hot kiss.

He resisted.

She slipped her tongue between his lips, then teased his lower lip with her teeth.

He opened to her with a groan.

She triumphed, sweeping his mouth and claiming every bit of him. He was her consort, her male, her mate. She had let him stick to his plans for a long time. And she loved his plans. But sometimes she just wanted hard, rough, hungry sex now. It didn’t bother her that he lost control. Because she did that to him. It was hot.

Something made a noise behind her.

She pulled back.

Had she been wrong and Kitty was already here? But it was nothing. Nothing was behind her.

Huh.

Flint breathed hard. His gray eyes lost focus. He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. And his cock pressed insistently against her waist.

She curved her hand around his length. “I want this.”

“Yeah… No.” His tone changed from moan to sharp denial, and he froze.

A brittle human emerged from the shadow of the entrance, her black gun pointed at them.

“Aunt Realgar!” Galena tried to push Flint behind her and elongated her nails to claws. Adrenaline surged. “What are you doing? Guards!”

Her aunt lifted the gun and pulled the trigger.

Flint shoved Galena backward.

The laser made a black mark on the wall behind them.

Galena’s breath stopped.

Her aunt refocused her aim.

Flint pushed Galena into her bedchamber and pressed the emergency button. Polarized glass covered the entrance, sealing her inside.

“No!” She pounded on the glass. “Flint!”

He turned to race away.

Her aunt shot him in the back.

He collapsed.

Galena screamed.

Aunt Realgar shot the glass. The laser dispersed with a red light.

Galena mashed the emergency call button inside her chamber. It should already have triggered the warning system for the entire Palace. But no alarms sounded.

No one was coming.

Her aunt strolled to the secret control panel hidden in the wall. It was designed in case an Empress was injured and passed out behind the glass. A trusted security guard was supposed to be able to open it to let in medics after the danger had passed.

Her aunt aimed the laser and pressed the button. “Goodbye, Galena.”

The glass remained in place.

Her aunt frowned and tapped, then mashed the button. “Hm.”

Galena put her weight on the emergency call button. “How could you? I trusted you!”

“Like the foolish, spoiled dragonlet you always were.” Her aunt strolled to Galena and tapped the glass with her claws. It was too thick to be scratched. “Hm. I suppose I should just have flamed you both. It seemed more fitting to execute you with a Kosmochlorian weapon the night you all signed a treaty.”

“And so you were going to what, frame them? Restart the war with the death of an Empress on their heads?”

“As a convenient victim, but it will be so easy to restart the war. I hardly need to put in an effort. A single insult will set them off. It doesn’t even have to be well placed.”

Galena released the call button and stalked the glass. Her aunt couldn’t get in. She couldn’t get out. They were at an impasse.

Flint had collapsed in a heap. Had the laser grazed him or been a direct hit? She raked her gaze over and over his back, unable to see the black burn mark of the laser shot.

“Give up and call the guards,” Galena ordered. “Save my mate, and I won’t have you executed.”

Her aunt dropped her arm and shot Flint again absently.

Galena screamed.

Her aunt shook her head. “Such a dragonlet.”

Galena bashed the glass. She needed to destroy her aunt, rend her to pieces, and protect Flint. Dangerous scales lifted to her skin. Nausea welled, but she focused on her anger to overcome it.

“Ooh, that’s good.” Her aunt curled her upper lip in a sneer. “Go ahead and shift. If I can’t get in, you might as well kill yourself.”

Galena took a deep breath and forced her scales down. Her heart pounded. Her hands shook.

She needed to think.

Only then could she…

Flint’s hand twitched.

No, his index finger.

He was pointing up. At the ceiling.

She looked up.

In the hidden escape ledge, a human coated in shadowy black material floated. He trained a gun on Aunt Realgar’s back.

And following the line of the ceiling around, two more dragons floated in human form, weapons aimed.

Flint wasn’t dead.

He had no black marks from a laser shot even though Aunt Realgar had shot him twice. He was faking it.

She shuddered with new emotion. Relief buckled her knees. She swooned and caught herself. Anger followed, hardening her. How dare he plan this and keep it from her? How many more secrets was her consort keeping?

His index finger twitched again.

She was supposed to do something.

Okay.

Galena took a deep breath and held her head. She had to think.

“Perhaps I’ll shoot your consort a few more times.” Aunt Realgar fired off several shots.

Black marks appeared around him. They were actually fired from the weapon of the hidden black ops dragon hovering overhead. The last laser burned his suit at the shoulder. Flint flinched.

Shock and anger made her desperate. That was too close.

“You’ll never get away with it.” Galena put all her loathing and sneer in her tone. “They’re already scrambling in the security office to get you.”

“No, they’re not. One of the first things I did after moving Helvine in was find and disable all the security measures for just this occasion. But it seems I missed one.”

“Then you probably missed more.”

“I cut the outside feeds. No one will disturb you on this momentous occasion. We have all kinds of time for me to puzzle out how to murder you.” Her aunt jabbed her claws into the stone around the emergency glass on her side. “This opened it last time…”

“How long were you against me? From the beginning? You didn’t have to involve Helvine.”

“You were too headstrong. I couldn’t guide you.” Her aunt stepped back and studied the whole outside of the bedchamber. “At first, you were so inexperienced, there was no reason to have you replaced. But now this treaty… How can House Palladium assert its prowess? You’ve ruined everything. And don’t think I’m ignorant to your true goal. You’ll forever be known as the Empress who ruined the aristocracy.”

“So an assassination attempt? Aunt Realgar, why? You’re smarter than this.”

A black wave of scales shimmered under her red skin. Red veins stood out in her white eyes. “Because it was my turn! I waited so long. Horribus lived forever. Then Helvine came along, perfectly shaped as my prodigy. I could never be Empress myself, but as General Ragiosa found, there are better ways to rule the Empire than to be its regent. This was my chance, and you ruined it.”

“You were the one who tried to have me killed before. You undermined me at the first full council meeting and had dragons attack me and Flint, driving us out of the Palace. But we survived.”

“I admit there is some strange spell around you. You turn disaster into benefit through blind luck. But not this time. You will tragically die on the night of treaty with this Kosmochlor laser, and Helvine will avenge you. Under my expert guidance, of course.”

“Lavendulan will never let you manipulate Helvine in this weak state. And General Ragiosa won’t let you either. Helvine has friends, Adviser Enmity. Just like I do.”

“Everyone has their price.”

So, they were innocent after all. Aunt Realgar had planned this assassination alone.

“And what will it matter to you? Your luck’s run out.” She pinched together two exposed wires. The glass began to lower. Aunt Realgar lifted her gun, poised to shoot Galena.

Flint stood and stretched. “I wouldn’t call it luck so much as logic and planning.”

Aunt Realgar wheeled in shock.

She fired the laser. A red light flashed on Flint’s chest. It was the harmless indicator light for a training laser.

Flint tapped his chest. “We switched guns.”

She dropped it. “Arrogant low-caste mudrock. I’m going to murder you!” She hunched to shift.

Black ops dragons landed on her.

Her aunt roared, and her throat glowed red.

A massive scarred male jumped onto her neck and forced her head away from Galena and Flint. Another lassoed her mouth and cinched it closed.

She clawed at them.

Others immobilized her feet and tied her neck. She flopped helplessly in the middle of the floor. The red coloration of her neck cooled to normal.

The black ops dragons hopped back.

Flint beamed as he led over the largest and most scarred dragon. “Galena, I want you to meet my brother, Kyan—”

Galena threw her arms around Flint. “How dare you?”

“Uh…”

He was alive, unhurt, and fine.

She shook. “You were supposed to tell me your plans!”

“We only just made them.”

He waved over her shoulder at Kyan. The black ops dragons handed Aunt Realgar over to Linarite and the rest of the Palace security force, and they all carried her aunt out.

“They audited security during your speech and discovered the sabotage. We set a trap. I tried to tell you.”

“You should have.”

“You did fine.”

“Flint!”

“I did try to tell you. I got distracted.” He squeezed and nuzzled her and proved to her that he was very alive. “You can be a little demanding.”

She demanded a searing kiss.

Somehow, by the time she surfaced, all the security guards and black ops dragons had melted away. Her aunt would be dealt with by Lavendulan. Another adviser would soon be chosen.

Flint breathed hard. “The, uh, guards have to come back. They have to reestablish the security alarms and safety measures. If you can wait—”

“I can’t.” She flew him up to the secret terrace, not caring who might just have vacated it, and wrapped her arms around him. “You always have a plan, Flint. So bring me in. Tell me everything.”

* * *

They made love beneath the stars on the ancient stone terrace. New and old, mixed together, bathed in starlight.

Flint kissed his gorgeous wife on the cool stone as if it was their first kiss, their last kiss, their only kiss of all time.

She’d been shaking when she’d grabbed him.

And he’d seen the black mark on the wall when Adviser Enmity had taken her first shot. He too had experienced a fleeting moment of panic. Had all their plans been undone? It wasn’t until he’d seen Kyan gesture from the shadows to fall that he’d realized another black ops shooter had made the mark, lining up shots in tandem so the attack had been utterly seamless. They weren’t called Black Shadows for nothing.

Now Galena begged him to bring her in. He’d meant to, and he’d really tried, but she’d kissed him. He had to work even harder to include her.

“Tell me everything,” she begged.

“You want to hear my plan? First, I’m going to get you naked.” He tugged her dress over one shoulder and followed the loose collar with sweet hot kisses.

She moaned.

“And then I’m going to tease you senseless.” He undid the fastenings and bared her breasts, sucking first one silver nipple and then the other.

She writhed. “Oh, Flint.”

“And then I’m going to lose control and thrust my cock into you until you scream in ecstasy.”

She canted her hips. “Do it.”

He wedged his knee between her thighs. “Not yet.”

She squeezed his thigh and arched her back. “You make me so crazy.”

He peeled off her dress, describing what he was going to do just before he did it. His tongue caressed her nipples, teased her hard points with his teeth. She panted, hotter and more desperate, and for the first time, he enjoyed being able to lose and regain his senses by describing and executing a short, sweet plan.

“I’m going to worship your body.” He kissed between her heaving breasts and over the swell of her belly, where she carried their dragonlet safely. “To the damp curls between your legs and taste your liquid honey.” He lapped and laved her soft folds while she trembled with building pleasure.

His cock throbbed, hot and ready. Her scent and taste filled him with her sweet arousal.

“Flint, please. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

He jerked free of the spell and kissed up her body until his cock grazed her inner thigh.

“Got you.” She clamped his cock in her hands and rolled upright, sucked his head into her mouth, and stroked her wet, slippery fingers up and down his shaft.

He lost his mind.

Abandoning any formula, plan, pattern, he thrust into her slick palms, her mouth, her tongue. Lost himself in her taste, her scent, her softness.

She released him and smiled. “Good?”

“Amazing.” He shuddered. His gray scales leaped just beneath his skin. “Where did you learn about that?”

“Your educational book. It’s supposed to make you extra hard.”

He wrapped his fingers around his wet cock and stroked it. “Success.”

“But…” She frowned and touched her inner lips. “I didn’t expect it to make me wet too.”

“Perfect timing.” He flipped her onto her back, rested her ankles on his shoulders, and drove his cock deep into her channel.

She canted her hips to meet him, her moans rising with the heat, thrusting wetness, rough and needy, tangled fingertips, liquid sweat. She was so hot. So beautiful. So perfect.

Galena whimpered with each thrust, higher and hotter, until release shook her. Not the screaming he’d predicted, but a shudder of soul-deep pleasure as she relaxed into a total-body orgasm.

He lost himself in his own foaming release. They danced, a weightless flight, beneath the green-streaked sky. Heart to heart, soul to soul, mind to mind.

She flopped on her back.

He collapsed beside her and rested his hand on her curved belly.

“Oh, hey.” She cleared her throat and pressed his fingers firmly to a point just above her belly button. “I thought I felt something. Human skin is so thin, you can feel the baby kick, right? I thought maybe…or it could just be a flutter…”

He enjoyed the hunt with her, pressing therapeutically, seeking the first clear sign that the life they’d created together was real. It was wonderful and incredible, and he’d never been happier.

They’d waited five long years apart, and now spent almost a full year together, and somehow, his life had changed so fast. For so long, he’d felt stuck, and then the avalanche of life had overwhelmed him.

A hard lump formed in his throat.

Yes, everything was changing fast for him, for her, and for the Empire. But they would face it together. And they would make new friends, future allies, and grow a family all on their side.

What would happen in another five years?

With his little one, and the dragonlets of his siblings?

Could they abolish the caste system across the Empire so that all males could be with their beloved females without the control of any matriarchs?

Could Earth fully join the Empire, humans seeking their destiny among the stars?

Could he and Galena rule over a new era of peace and prosperity?

It had all begun when a Scholar itching to get out into the world and test his ideas had tutored a bored heir with withered ambition. In each other, they’d discovered the keys to unlocking a brilliant future.

A feverish night of dreaming had led to this.

“Hey, Galena?”

She sucked in a breath and cracked her eyelids. “Hmm? Flint? Did you feel her?”

“Not yet.”

But he could wait. They had forever together. And the next day, and also the next. The future was being born every moment all around them. It all began with a simple phrase.

“I have a crazy idea…”