The Dragon Prince's Consort

Thirty-Six

Fang jumped as Tias's voice echoed around the training chamber. She stepped back and bumped into Benna, who set a steadying hand on her shoulder. Across the pitch the First Prince pounded over the mats pushing aside Wardens and toppling climbing-frames, leaving a path of confusion and alarm in his wake. Tias's eyes blazed like a forge, tail whipping, tusks bared and rings flashing as he gestured and pointed at Valen in fury. "YOU! You little shit!"

Valen fell back a step. Freya turned and the other Wardens stood, some moving to stand between Tias and his brother. In the front of the pack Freya clutched her 'lance', her tail nervously switching around her ankles.

Fang grasped Benna's deep red sash, "What's happening?"

"Stay behind me," Benna pushed Fang behind her. "Your Grace, what–"

"Shut up, Warden!" Tias bellowed, then pointed again at Valen. "You! How dare you! The very night my son is born, you have to go to Kitsara and steal his glory!"

"What are you talking about?" Valen shot back, raising the training-pole in front of him. "We left so you could have all of the attention to yourself!"

"Lies!" roared Tias. "You don't fool me, Runt, you went down the mountain so you could show off your whore!" Fang cringed. Not so much at the word Tias used, but more for the truth in what had happened when they'd arrived in the city – she and Valen had certainly attracted the attention of the bar patrons and staff, the presence of royalty and a human woman distracting them from the birth of a new Drassian. Had it been anyone other than Valen, Fang doubted Tias would have even cared.

Valen bristled, shoulders tensing and ears standing stiffly upright. "Don't call her that!"

"Your Highness," Benna advanced a step, "let's not do this, you should be with Lady Aisana and–"

"I ordered you to shut up, Warden!" Tias's nostrils flared, his fists clenched and rising. The training gymnasium had fallen into an eerie silence except for Tias's thundering fury, Wardens and trainers clustering in knots at the edges of the mats and watching with wide yellow eyes. Fang waited to see if anyone would do something, if they would restrain Tias or send for help, anything. But Tias continued to shout, flinging his hands about in grand aggressive gestures. "I am the First Prince, you are beholden to me! Stand down, this is between me and that little freak of a Drass!"

"I can't do that, Your Highness. My oath was to defend the entire Drassian family–"

"That aberration killed my mother, and now he has the balls to flaunt that pale-faced slut!" Tias bellowed, his rage seething off of him like an inferno. He pointed at Valen, "The Empress should have aborted you, you monster!"

"Tias..." The silence in the chamber grew heavy, and horned heads turned in unison at the colossal voice of the Dragon Emperor. Matias Tenurkhan Drassian entered the training pitch, dressed in soft robes and slippers, and rubbing the side of his head in front of his ear, eyes bleary and slitted against the harsh white lights. As he lumbered over the cushioned mats the floor shook, the mountain shivering with each step and rattling the replica weapons on their racks. Fang shrank farther behind Benna, the Emperor's presence more awesome than Tias's anger even as he squinted through his hangover; she started at the sound of Valen's training-pole dropping to the floor with a hollow clunk. His ears had folded back completely flat, his orange eyes huge and jaw clenched with anxiety – was it his brother or father who frightened him so?

"Tias," Matias said once more, "You should be with your Lady, bonding with your new son, and yet I find you here threatening your brother after I told you to leave well enough alone."

Tias turned awkwardly, the heel of one fine leather boot catching in the mat's canvas covering. He recovered quickly, though, and launched into another grievance. "Father! Did you see what they've done? That little cretin has taken my son's birth and turned it into a spectacle! He's been parading her around Kitsara–"