Page 51 of Her Tortured Beasts

I step away from her, that darkness in me rearing its head. “Take your seat, Mother.”

She turns away, nodding, a maid rushing forwards to assist her. I wait a beat, looking around the hallowed halls of my forefathers. I share their blood, and yet I’ve never felt more set apart from them. But doing my duty, marrying and having hatchlings would surely make them proud. They all did it and I am honoured to continue the tradition. Rubbing my temple, I stride towards the open doors of the back of the castle, and through to where the aisle is set up in the back garden.

It’s going to rain this evening, with clouds already gathering in the eastern sky. The guests are seated in near twenty rows of black and gold seats, casting a wary eye on the rich and influential people around them. I nod at the lesser guests, distant family, friends, and business partners. Near the front, I stop to shake hands with the human Prime Minister and some of his senators, as well as the regent of each major court: the avian queen, the feline king, the wolf queen and Mace Naga, sitting at the end of one row, looking smug. An impartial tiger stands at the front of the wedding as celebrant and I shake his hand.

It sours my mood further.

The last time I saw this particular tiger was at Aurelia’s farcical wedding to Halfeather. He’s the celebrant of choice amongst the elites of our kind. Mostly because he turns a blind eye to our…more unsavoury Old Laws.

I turn and survey the crowd. They all stare back at me curiously, especially the Hellfire family. They are small, as most dragon families are these days, but she has at least one aunt and uncle, and her cousins have two hatchlings between them.

An unfamiliar, heavy scraping sound from the entrance hall makes me frown. I recognise my father’s steps, but?—

Unbidden, a chill runs down my spine. The people closest to the door turn around and gape.

Because on the golden leash, my father drags a fully grown great white shark anima behind him.

Whispers and gasps break out amongst the crowd and the celebrant lets out a long-suffering sigh. Father has a smirk on his face, his chin held high as he drags Aurelia behind him, the heavy body of the shark pulling up the carpet behind her. Servants rush forward and straighten the carpet as he goes, so he doesn’t ruin the entire aisle.

Mother turns around to see what all the fuss is about, and her hand flies to her mouth as she audibly gasps.

Has he forgotten there arehumanshere? Shit. I exchange a look with Rebecca, our publicist, sitting in the second row, and her face is pale as a sheet as she stares at the display.

Father gets to the altar, where I give him a blank look.

“The fucking Prime Minister is here, Father,”I growl into his head.

“Watch your fucking tone,”he replies just the same.“They’ll all love it after what ScytheKharkorous has done to the serpent court.”

I risk a glance at Mace, and sure enough, there is a fell sort of gleam in those sociopathic black eyes as he looks upon his daughter as she’s dragged up to me, gills uselessly expanding and contracting as she tries to gain breath.

“It’ll die without water. The ceremony will go for too long,” I murmur as Father comes to stand next to me. We both look down at her.

“Oh, she’ll be fine for a bit. She’s a Boneweaver, remember?”

A few in the crowd shift uncomfortably. I know this is a show of power for my father. Probably something he’s been fantasising about since she arrived.

But great white sharks suffocate without water. Even Boneweavers need oxygen to live.

“Father, I don’t think?—”

His eyes flash, and I shut my mouth, knowing I’ll pay for this later.

“Boneweaver,” Father says in a voice everyone can hear. “Shift into your human form.”

No doubt desperate for air and hungering for water, she has no choice but to obey. My ears pick up the crunch of her cartilage, the scrape of her skin, and when she crouches there, in human form, she wheezes, sucking in air so loudly that the entire room can hear the struggle. The skin of her side is red and bleeds from being dragged. Eyes watering, she looks accusingly up at me.

I look away, and with the knowledge that everyone is watching us, I keep a smooth, unemotional face.

“When the shark king hears about this,”Father says into my mind. “He won’t know what to do with himself.”

There’s nothing I can say to that, so I remain silent until the pianist strikes up Wagner’s March and everyone gets to their feet. I would have preferred Pachelbel’sCannon in D, but my father insisted on tradition.

My bride appears at the flowered archway, beautiful in a dragon’s wedding gown. It’s linen woven with gold, strong enough to take the weight of the diamonds and rubies that stud the bodice and full skirts. A gold and ruby diadem, loaned from the Drakos treasury, sits atop her head, and a veil of jewelled silk trails down her back in a long seven-foot train.

Francesca’s eyes widen when she steps up to the altar and sees Aurelia crouching naked by my father’s knee. Lord Hellfire raises his brows but says nothing as he hands his daughter to me. My bride’s eyes flick to mine, but all I do is take her hands like we’re supposed to.

My headache suddenly returns with a vengeance.

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