Page 60 of Ash

The thought caught him off guard. So much so that when his mother stepped away from the group to greet him, Tyrez barely responded to her hug.

“Tyrez!” The shrill cry echoed through the large room, as his youngest full sibling, Sirki, ran to him.

Dragons seldom hugged. The most common emotional bond between Dragons was that between caregivers and child, but it wasn’t always the mother that did the rearing. It was customary for Dragonas to raise their children communally.

Despite being Matriarch, Eriana had broken protocol and insisted that she have an active hand in raising her children. Tyrez grew up under her feet, and he’d formed closer than usual ties to his siblings as a result. The first ten years of Dragon lives tracked much the same as a humans’. Beyond that, the development slowed down. They spent much longer as children, not reaching adolescence until they were in their midtwenties, and then staying there for nearly two decades.

It meant that males had a lot longer to be stupid as hell. He and Razir had explored many possibilities while teenagers.

Fortunately, they both had been kept pretty busy. All young Dragons were trained to fight, but only the best were ever recruited for the Legion responsible for guarding and protecting Dragon interests across the realms. Tyrez and Razir had been two of the youngest warriors to be accepted into its ranks. Those that assumed it was due to their royal parentage changed their tune rapidly when they faced the brothers in practice.

Luckily, Dragons healed fast.

Eriana moved aside so that the Dragona with bright-red and gold-streaked hair could properly hug him. “I have not seen you in ages,” his sister scolded.

Ages was, in fact, four days. Sirki tended to be dramatic for a Dragon.

Eriana’s vivid-green gaze scanned her son’s face. “You are still troubled, my son.”

Still? His mother was far too observant. “I have come to seek advice,” Tyrez admitted.

The Matriarch turned to the group waiting silently by the table. “Bianta, gather the stats for the new coliseum—I want to be sure it is sized right for that population. I will return shortly.” His older sibling nodded and bent to the blueprints on the table.

Eriana then addressed Sirki. “Sirki, we need a moment alone.”

His sister’s mobile face fell. Her eyes reflected her hair with gold centers surrounded by reddish edges. “But he just got here.”

“Sirki.”

His sister sighed. She was thirty, which equated to about fifteen in human years, and as of late, she’d become very emotional. “Come see me at home?” she asked Tyrez. “Since Bianta moved out, I have been rattling around in there.”

“I will bring fried chicken,” Tyrez promised.

She gave him a wide grin and scampered off. Tyrez noticed she’d been put to work making fresh floral arrangements for the chamber.

Eriana took his arm and steered Tyrez toward the private alcoves.

“I can wait until you are less busy,” he offered.

“I am never too busy for my son.”

Tyrez glanced back at the group over the table. “It isn’t really that important—”

“The Archmage situation is much more important than planning another coliseum,” his mother insisted.

The Archmage was primarily the Emperor’s concern, but his mother had her fingers in every pie. And Tyrez knew how much his father respected her opinion on matters that most Matriarchs had historically not concerned themselves with.

The rules simply didn’t apply to his mother.

She led him past the privacy curtains and into an alcove decorated with flowering vines. As he seated himself on a well-cushioned chaise lounge, she reached to trace her fingers along his temple.

“You could have lost an eye. Do you know what did that?”

“No. Razir has the researchers at the palace library digging through references. Nothing yet.”

Her mouth pulled into a straight line. “Has this Dani said anything more about the Archmage?”

Tyrez shook his head. “She’s still asleep. I will push when she’s up. I spoke to Jacques. He’s been reluctant to pump the Dires for info, but I think I have lit a fire beneath him.”

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