Page 61 of Betrayed By Dragons

I wish Jianyu were here, but that's foolish. He and Rafe are always at each other's throats. He's more likely to push Rafe off the edge than pull him back from it. And that's if he doesn't start an international incident of his own.

I still can't help the tingle of wrongness in my gut that tells me we shouldn't be doing this without him.

It's not like I have any choice about it, though.

Swept along in Rafe's wake, I enter a room that's technically the Fire King's study but is basically the library of my dreams. I have to work hard to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor. Shelves of books extend to the ceilings, and there are even a couple of those awesome leaning ladders on wheels that I've always fantasized about flinging myself around on. The books housed on the shelves radiate powerful energy, and I recognize the same bold sigils I spent so much time studying, back when I was helping Rhiannon sort through her inventory leading up to the peace summit in Unity.

It seems like a million years ago, but it was barely a month.

I furrow my brows. The energy coming off of the books has a soft aura to it that is at odds with the Fire Magic contained within the volumes.

I blink as the answer comes to me--protection magic. Of course. A giant library is essentially kindling for Fire Dragons. A person would have to be a fool not to ward the precious, flammable pages.

And the Fire King is no fool.

He's sitting at a desk in the very center of the space. My pace slows. Even from a distance, King Aeden radiates as much power as his entire library combined. He's a big man, with broad shoulders and a muscular physique that's shown off to good effect in an immaculately tailored, charcoal suit. Much like Rafe, he was warm olive skin and thick, golden-brown hair, though his is peppered with gray. His beard is half-white, too. If he and his son share the same eyes, I can't tell. Mostly because the king has yet to lift his gaze from his laptop.

Smoldering anger fills my chest, and I can't tell at first if it's mine or if I'm getting it from Rafe. It was one thing when Rafe's siblings ignored him, but his own father?

Then it hits me. This anger? It's mine. Because Rafe expected nothing else.

Stunned, I blink at Rafe. He projects a confident image--casual and irreverent and unassailable. But beneath it all, there's always been this hurt. These little bits of self-deprecation, and this bitterness I've never entirely understood.

They all make sense to me now.

My dragon hisses behind my ribs. We both want to curl around our mate. To protect him and remind him that we see him for everything he is.

I start to reach for him. I can't actually take him in my arms right now, but I can brush my knuckles against his. I can lend him some tiny amount of comfort and strength.

But before I can actually make contact, King Aeden's booming voice fills the space. "No, I won't raise your allowance again."

He still hasn't looked up.

Rafe's jaw flexes, but otherwise, he remains determined and undeterred. "That's not why I'm here, and you know it."

"Really." King Aeden finally lifts his gaze, but the utter indifference in his eyes when he looks at his son is almost worse somehow. "Because that's what happened the last three times you stormed in here." He pauses for effect before saying his son's name. "Rafe."

Rafe bristles so hard I can practically feel the sharp edges of him. I'm singed by his heat.

"I'm here about this." Rafe tosses the folder Dorran passed to him in the dining room on his father's desk.

"Don't touch it," a voice says from out of nowhere.

Rafe, Cael and I all flinch as one. Over in the corner, behind the king, stands a man in a dark suit. A dragon for sure, only he's...wrong somehow.

"It could be poisoned," the man advises.

Rafe laughs. "Why would I?"

"One can't be too careful, Your Highness." The man steps forward, and I blink hard. A headache threatens to form behind my eyes, watching him.

The man uses a handkerchief to pick up the folder. He sets it aside.

"Right as always, Gethen," King Aeden says.

The advisor--Gethen--looks at Rafe, and then Cael, and then me.

The instant his gaze meets mine, my bracer burns. I clench my hand into a fist to keep from clutching it. The fire isn't painful, exactly.

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