Page 10 of Daghel

“But not by a drehl,” he replies, ruthlessly reminding me of the stain upon my existence. “Never has a drehl been permitted to take a mate,” he hisses as he advances upon me. “You are a valuable gathol, for which you are now tolerated, but this was never within the realm of possibilities for you.”

“But it has happened,” I reply, and he gives me a grim nod.

“Do not make this more difficult for you… or for her,” he adds in our native tongue with a gesture toward my mate.

My resolve to fight fades in an instant as a sudden unease fills me. Would they retaliate against her if I fight back? Rage simmers deeply within me as I watch him through narrowed eyes before glancing over at Drisk.

“Wait at our rookery. We will join you.”

The wyvern grumbles with a litany of curses and dark suggestions pouring into my mind, but he complies with a sharp beat of his wings blowing cold gusts around us as he ascends to our rookery within the peaks. Ajek doesn’t move, but waits in stony silence. He is certain that he has won because he says nothing more and gestures for me to precede him into the palace.

Jaw clenching, I glance down at my female and brush a hand against her hair, briefly cupping her cheek. “Remain here. I must go, but I will return to you. Do not wander.”

She glances around but nods. “As if I have anywhere I immediately want to go in this place,” she mutters before settling on an outcropping of rock and squinting up at me. “Just don’t even think of leaving me here to freeze.”

My lips twitch beneath my mask at her demanding tone, another smile nearly startling out of me twice within the same day. It was unheard of, but my heart feels lighter as I nod. “Never.”

The single raw word draws her gaze back to me, and an emotion flits across her face too quickly for me to define before she resolutely looks away, leaving me to my duty. I resent that I must answer to the prince for this even more since it means leaving her here, but I can still feel the touch of the smile upon my lips as I step away from her side.

I am grateful, however, for the mask concealing my expression as I turn away to accompany Ajek into the palace.

Chapter

Six

CHAPTER 6

Daghel

The halls of the palace lack the usual seasonal cheer that has adorned them every year of the queen’s rule. A dark silence clings to them as I walk at Ajek’s side, the sound of our boots echoing around us. As the palace is built directly into the cliff face with its own rookeries, there is a special kind of resonance similar to the common rookeries but amplified by its vastness.

“This is not meant as an insult to you, Daghel,” the male growls. “But our laws and traditions exist for a reason and are not so easily ignored—least of all by you. The prince is concerned.”

I show no reaction to his words other than briefly meeting his eyes with a hard stare so that he knows that I have heard him. Ajek is a prick, but he is a prick with limited power. The prince is another matter. My jaw tightens, but I assume a neutral, if grim, expression as I follow Ajek into the throne room.

Fawning females, orc and human alike, surround the throne, hands caressing Prince Vorn and raising slivers of meat and fruit to his lips. His wives. He grunts deeply as the female kneeling between his thighs works his hard prick with her mouth. My lips twist faintly with disgust, but the expression is minute and fleeting so that neither male catches it. The prince dares far too much. According to our laws, no male or even a bond pair are allowed to have more than one mate, but he has been busy without his mother’s strict oversight and now is going as far as to allow his mates to service him on the throne that rightly belongs to his younger sister.

A throne she shall not inherit and rightly ascend to until the present queen dies. Until that time, the prince plays his games with his supporters under the illusion of a dutiful son—and he plays them well—while his mother has lain ill these past few winters with none but the healer and spirit speaker attending to her. Neither female has been seen since the day they were brought into the palace, leaving only apprentices to care for the clan, and no others have been admitted. And yet despite her grave illness, she continues to live… exactly as the prince intends.

He will not allow her to die. I know without a doubt that he forces every breath of life through her and traps the spark of her soul within her withering flesh. It is to this purpose that he has kept our healer and spirit speaker imprisoned with her. That knowledge crawls over my skin, and late at night I catch myself staring up at the queen’s quarters, feeling as if a struggling breath rakes across my skin, whispering a silent plea. It is maddening, and it carves like a black blade through my being as the prince luxuriates in his ill-gained power that is not his to have.

I do not share my thoughts freely with the clan, but I have heard hushed grievances among others within the Cold FangClan. They speak of sinister dealings within the palace when they think no one is nearby to hear them. Little do they know that a drehl male slips too quietly and too easily among them—and hears everything.

I am a wraith within the clan, and even now, standing before the prince, I feel even more so like one with a dark purpose boiling within me, one that I struggle to contain.

The male’s red eyes finally shift to me, and he acknowledges my presence with a deep grunt even as he pumps his hips into his mate’s mouth. His thighs tremble and he growls deep in his throat, his hand clenching the female’s head tightly, holding her in place as he deposits his thick load down her throat. It spills from the corners of her small mouth stretched around his length, and she visibly chokes as she attempts to swallow all of it. An obscene sight, and I pity the small human.

It is no wonder our clan is falling, increasingly scorned by our gods and ancestors as so many of the males begin to follow Vorn’s lead.

The prince settles back into his throne with a satisfied groan as two more of his mates drop to clean his softening cock with their tongues. He smirks at me as he caresses one dark head and plays with her long braid.

“Exquisite, aren’t they?” he rumbles.

My gaze drops dismissively to the females for only a moment before returning to him. Not one compares to my female, but I dare not utter such words while I am at a clear disadvantage within the clan. His eyes narrow on me, but he barks a loud laugh and pushes the females away roughly as he stands, drawing up the ends of his surc and fastening them once more at his waist as he does so.

“But I have heard that you have your own little delicious female. One that you abandoned your mission entirely to seize.”

He waits expectantly, and I realize that he wishes me to answer. Surprising. Vorn usually prefers to hear himself talk. He is in a rare mood and that makes me suspicious.

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