Page 67 of A Kiss of Flame
Callum's amusement evaporated at his niece’s declaration. “I told you—Your mating contract is finished,” he said, pointing to a stack of papers in front of one of his harried advisors. “It was signed this morning.”
“It can be undone,” Barith countered, pointing at the array of papers. “All of this can be undone.”
Eithne's primal growl reverberated through the room. “Ye dare barge in here an’ threaten tae undo everythin’ we’ve worked for?”
Judith stepped forward, her voice unwavering. “Barith’s a McCroy an’ a member of this horde. He’s a right under our laws tae oppose any contract involvin’ his property an’ plead his case before his king or queen.”
Queen Eithne’s eyes flared with fire as she turned sharply to her daughter. “What property?” she spat. “His cottage an’ that pathetic house in London? Neither are even mentioned in this contract.”
Barith clenched his jaw, his voice low but persistent. “Iam the property.”
His mother’s eyes burned with fury, but Barith held his ground, his heart pounding at a nauseating pace. He thought of Levian—how she faced the Council of Mages’s withering scrutiny with unwavering determination, intelligence, and resilience. He had to channel that strength now and mindfully keep his tail from tucking between his legs.
“They’re right,” Flòra said. She spoke softly, but her voice carried. “It’s in our laws.”
Eithne’s glare snapped to each of her daughters before it landed back on Barith. “Iknowit’s in our laws,” she growled.
Callum slammed his hand on the table. “This is ridiculous! We’ve already negotiated?—”
Eithne raised her hand, silencing him with a single, withering glance. “It is their right,” she said bitterly, then turned back to Barith, her lips tight. “You’ve one minute.” What she didn’t say was that she was going to have him strung up by his wings for the birds to eat after he was done.
Barith glanced at Flòra, then took a deep breath, stepping forward. He’d spent centuries charming his way across the globe and out of trouble. Now, all he had to do was charm a room full of miserable dragons—Gods help him.
He cursed in his head before he began, “As leaders of two of the largest Sun Dragon hordes, joinin’ under one banner would make us formidable—But merging into one horde willnae dae anythin’ to advance our status in the eyes of the Folk.”
Callum scoffed, but Barith ignored him, keeping his focus on his mother. Her furious expression was unyielding.
“I’ve spent time amongst the Folk,” he went on. “I know how they see us. The hordes were once respected, but now we’re relics of a dying era. Beasts to be gawked like mythical creatures but dismissed because we’re too preoccupied with our squabblin’ to be of notice. We lost our lands in Sylthëa because the faeries knew if they broke apart the tribes, we’d remain broken. They were right.
“Yer agreement willnae change any of that. It’ll only allow two great dragon hordes to continue distractin’ themselves by arguin’ over scraps while the Folk continues to push us out of trade and commerce.”
“And what are you suggesting, then?” Angus Ceanadach asked gruffly.
“I suggest somethin’ different,” Barith elaborated. “We’ll show strength as allies, united under two banners—no’ conquerors, but partners. Together, we can begin formin’ a new tribe of dragons—somethin’ far greater than two hordes.
“Think what ye will of me, but I’ve seen how the Folk view us. We’re all bluster while they carve away at what was once ours. It’s time we prove to the faeries—to the rest of the Folk—that dragons are capable of more. United, as our ancestors once were.”
Callum let out a harsh laugh. “Your son is a fool,” he snapped, turning to Eithne. “I thought he’d come to ask for more cows.”
Barith growled low, stepping closer to Callum, his eyes alight with fire.“Careful who you call a fool.”
Callum rose slowly, his throat glowing with simmering flames. “Be careful yourself, boy,” he warned, menace dripping from his words. “You may be the son of a queen, but that doesn’t mean I won’t cut you open in front of your mummy.”
“Enough!” Eithne commanded, her voice slicing through the tension. “There’ll be no bloodshed in my house unless it’s by my hand.”
Callum glared at Barith a moment longer, then sat with a grunt, the tension slowly dissipating.
Eithne looked between them both, her gaze finally settling on her son. “So this is yer plea?” she asked, her voice full of exasperation. “To form a new tribe…to avoid matin’ wi’ Sera?”
Barith swallowed, his throat tight. “No,” he growled to be clear. “If matin’ with Sera would benefit the horde, I’d do it. But it won’t. This is about securin’ our future and what’s good for all dragons.”
Eithne studied him, her eyes narrowed as if seeking out every crack in his conviction.
“And you agree with this?” Callum balked at his niece.
Sera nodded. “I didn’t at first, but after I heard Barith’s argument, I began to see his points. We’re here because both our hordes are being pushed out of trade. The pixies have taken over significant ground in the last several centuries. Our ancestors built their troves by being clever and trading smartly with the Fae, but even the faeries of Sylthëa have evolved past us.” She looked to Barith, her gaze stern. “Our only chance is to adapt and stand together.”
Angus grunted and looked at his brother expectantly.