Page 8 of Heart of the High King
Chapter 4
1807 AD
Draconis Court of Kestle
Abattle had started inside Rafferty the day he embraced his dragon, and there was a constant tug of war—a daily struggle between what man and beast wanted. Rafferty had to fit in with his people, and he was praised each successive day he went without shifting, which had him pushing it until he was left with no choice. His last one was forty-five days ago, and Rafferty was restless and irritable as he filled his plate from the sidebar.
“Paunchy, you might save some for the rest of us,” Duke Nollan Kestledraconis taunted from behind Rafe. Nollan and his twin, Neil, had been born in 1432, and though their parentage was very much in question, Charlton had claimed the pair. The moment they’d shifted, they were given titles despite being hardly medium brown. Recently Charlton had mentioned that a daughter had been born, but she would remain with her mother, and Rafferty didn’t even know her name.
“There is plenty left,” Rafferty replied, shuffling over to the table. Although he didn’t like the nickname his siblings had come up with, it was impossible to hide his rounded belly. As he’d feared, the benefits of being a shifter were lost to him. Rafferty caught illnesses, he gained weight, his face broke out in spots, and his moods were mercurial, though he kept a tight rein on them so he didn’t upset his father by being snappish.
“Has Paunchy allowed anyone else to have a meal this morning?” Sullivan asked, strolling into the dining room, immaculately dressed.
“Just a bit, to be sure,” Neil observed while Rafferty ignored them. Rafferty would not apologize for enjoying Molly’s tasty treats or his love of food.
“For Fate’s sake, Rafferty, what the devil are you wearing?” Charlton asked, walking in after his eldest son.
Glancing at his waistcoat, Rafferty saw only a tan pattern of slightly varying colors and a few yellow dots he quite liked that matched his jacket, but his brother’s snickering was testament to him being played for a fool again. “Sullivan has my clothes made for me at your order, Your Highness.”
Charlton grabbed a seat at the head of the table and bellowed for Molly. “Son, I understand you like to play jokes with Paunchy’s inability to see color correctly, but keep in mind that I have to look at him too.”
“I thought the bright green a nice touch with the truly abhorrent fabric I found for his waistcoat,” Sullivan responded with a guffaw.
Molly bustled in and put a plate in front of Charlton. “You don’t have to yell, Your Highness; I know when you take your meals. Haven’t I been serving you forever?”
“Yes, dear Molly, forgive me. Did you see Rafferty’s new waistcoat?”
“Your Grace, do not torment Rafe so. You know he can’t tell when you’ve had something garish made,” Molly admonished Sullivan.
Sullivan was still laughing. “I simply could not help myself.”
“Did you get enough to eat, Rafe?” Molly asked.
Neil’s eyes widened in shock. “Molly, if he eats any more, the rest of us will starve and he’ll be so fat he won’t be able to ride his horse.”
“Your Grace, do not be so unkind. Your Highness, a note has arrived from His Majesty.” Molly reached into a large pocket on her apron and produced an envelope, which she handed to Rafferty’s father.
“I do hope he’s not chiding me again about some silliness like before,” Charlton muttered, opening it and yanking out the letter. They didn’t hear from Emperor Chrysander regularly, and most often it was to place a small fine or other such punishment on Charlton. Fate had chosen many kings, and not everyone liked to play fair—it was when they whined to His Majesty about being outwitted by an honest businessman that Charlton found himself with biased penalties. “You boys will not believe this. The fool wants to ally us with sorcerers, of all things.”
“Sorcerers?” Molly asked.
“If it was not bad enough that the buggering idiot wants us to lower ourselves to deal with other shifters, His Majesty not only wishes for us to join a council with magickind, he expects us to leave our ancestral land and go to North America. I tell you I will not do it,” Charlton roared. The dragon slapped the letter onto the table, and Sullivan swiftly snagged it to read.
“Your Highness, he is the emperor chosen by Fate. Are we not to honor that?”
“I was chosen by Fate too, Molly. Does my judgment not matter? I would tolerate another trade agreement, but I refuse to leave my land.”
“I have never liked the man,” Sullivan remarked, setting the letter aside. “I do not trust a man who would willingly choose to bed another man. It is not only unnatural but disgusting and perverted. This only proves my instinct is quite correct. Fate makes mistakes; we’ve met plenty of kings not fit for their titles. Perhaps she has lost her touch. I fear should I ever meet my mate. How will she wreck my life?”
Charlton glared. “I do not wish to speak of mates. You know what happened with mine. The woman went mad. Threw a servant down the stairs, killing her instantly, and Sullivan hardly out of nappies. I had to raise him alone.”
It was a tale Rafferty had heard many times, but rarely did Charlton choose to discuss the reason she’d acted so rashly. His other half, Agnes, had discovered by Charlton’s announcement at supper that a servant carried his babe. When she’d destroyed the unborn child, Charlton had argued fiercely with Agnes. By the next morning, she was gone from the castle and no one knew what had befallen her or if she lived on.
“I daresay you did a fine job,” Sullivan commented, toasting his father with his teacup.
“I’ve done a fine one with all my sons…even Paunchy.”
“Do not anger me this early in the day, Your Highness,” Molly threatened on her way out of the dining room.
