Page 142 of The Forbidden Dragon King
He’s looking queasy, however, impacted by all the pheromones. His hand is lightly laid on the arm of the pompous council member, who is talking to Lucius like he’s an idiot, at the same time as the Alpha is leering at him.
Lucius is simpering, even though I can see the sharp smile in his eyes.
Whoever this council member is, I give him a week at most, before Lucius finds a way to gut him.
Lucius looks over, catching my eye. Then his gaze darts significantly to Aurelius.
I know what he means.
Protect our King.
It should be ridiculous.
I’m a lowly pet, a wolf shifter servant in the middle of a crowd of the most powerful dragons in the Shadow Court.
Aurelius, on the other hand, gleams in his armor, looking out over the court that he rules. His pheromones are the strongest in the room.
Then why does it feel like he’s the sacrifice?
Something in me softens. Aurelius’ brother was murdered on this day. How is Aurelius managing to hold himself so calmly?
I nod at Lucius, and his eyes crinkle in a secret smile just for me, one between Omegas.
My chest warms.
I lean forward, refilling Aurelius’ gold and ruby goblet with wine.
“Stay close to me,” Aurelius murmurs, too low for anyone else to hear. The first words that he’s spoken to me. “Whatever happens tonight, don’t interfere.”
I startle.
He does know something.
He sits back from me, however, raising his wine to his lips like he hasn’t said anything.
I notice that he only takes the smallest sip, pretending to drink. He’s been doing that all night.
I straighten, shuttering my expression.
Where is Daire? Why isn’t he here yet?
The banquet is almost over.
Instinctively, I reach to touch the glossy pinion feather, which I have woven into my hair. I instantly feel more connected to him.
“You couldn’t have cleaned yourself up, boy? No one would know that you were a king and not some rude soldier who’d never learned etiquette.” Maximinus leans over from the couch next to Aurelius’, sounding like a typical indulgent but disapproving uncle.
Except, I know better.
The nearby shifters laugh.
My hands tighten on the pitcher.
Aurelius twirls the goblet between his strong fingers, face impassive. “I flew back all day straight from the battlefield to make sure that I was here as requested, Uncle. I didn’t have time to be bathed in rose petals.”
A dragon in his fifties with short gray hair, hooked nose, and hard gray eyes, chuckles. “Maximinus isn’t the type to pamper himself or anyone else with luxuries like rose petals. I always imagined that he could simply wave his hand and scare the sweat off himself.”
“Whereas you need at least three servants to lick if off, Quintus,” Maximinus replies, dryly.
