Page 4 of Ancient Promises

“Then it will be easy enough to take them out.”

“There’s no reason to go after them,” Eivross said, knowing he risked infuriating his brother and his hair-trigger, usually-kills-quickly, temper.

“Their resources are worth it,” Zihndyr said, his eyes narrowing.

“Resources or the king’s daughter?” Eivross asked. He was really one of the few who could get away with talking to his brother like this, questioning his authority or decisions. But it was a tightrope no matter how you looked at it.

Zihndyr let out a low growl, his eyes flashing to the yellow-gold of his dragon. “Do you have something to say?”

Eivross straightened and pushed away from the wall. “Clear out,” he said to everyone in the room. There was a heartbeat where they waited for Zihndyr to agree or not, and when he waved his hand, they split like their tails were on fire.

“Speak,” his brother said.

“You have a mate. You don’t need to kill King Lindra and take his daughter as a second mate. Their territory has no real value.” Eivross walked over to the screen and pointed to the other nest’s territory.

Both nests called the Smokey Mountains home, with several miles and treacherous terrain separating them. Their own nest neared fifty, and while Lindra’s nest was far smaller, there were zero reasons to take it over. Except that Zihndyr had set his sights on the king’s daughter because his own mate, Osteria, had failed to give him any children in the last two years of their mating.

“I’ve heard their treasure is worth more than ours. Lindra’s hoard is jewels.”

Dragons hoarded treasure; it was in their nature. But each dragon hoarded something precious to them, and it could be anything. Their mother, Emelda, had hoarded silver spoons. When she’d passed away when Eivross was eleven, her treasure had been several thousand spoons, all perfectly polished and shiny. He’d saved a handful of her favorites, but his own treasure wasn’t spoons.

“Your treasure isn’t jewels,” he pointed out.

“No, but there’s nothing wrong with having more treasure.” Zihndyr’s gaze narrowed further. “Stop questioning me. Gather the guards.”

“If you want to have a child, spend more time with your mate instead of your side-pieces and maybe she’ll get pregnant. It’s not worth killing dragons to take a female who may or may not want to be with you, just so you can have another woman to bed.”

In a heartbeat, Eivross was against the wall with Zihndyr’s arm across his throat, pressing hard.

Eivross was older than Zihndyr, stronger and faster, but his brother was vicious and didn’t hold family in any kind of esteem.

He’d killed their father for his throne, after all. And then their uncle, who was the rightful heir. Eivross had seen Zihndyr begin to pick off the staff who were loyal to their father, so he’d pledged fealty to his bloodthirsty brother to save their lives. And his own.

And he hated every second.

Zihndyr pressed his arm a little harder against Eivross’s throat and then took a step back. Eivross gasped in a breath, his dragon pacing in his mind. He didn’t think his dragon had ever gotten over him not avenging their father’s death, among other things.

Like how he would never take a mate. Because Zihndyr had gotten his current mate by killing her truemate. His brother wasn’t above killing innocents to get what he wanted, and Eivross didn’t trust him.

He stared at his brother. Once upon a time they’d been friends, but Eivross wasn’t sure he even thought of him as a brother anymore.

“I’m not going to help you do this,” Eivross said. His dragon sat up in his mind, letting out a grunt of agreement.

His brother waved a dismissive hand in his direction and Eivross stalked away. His brother couldn’t really be reasoned with. Not in any meaningful way. Once he set his mind on something, he went after it until it was his. Or destroyed.

Something had to change. Eivross couldn’t stand looking at himself in the mirror. He might not be part of Zihndyr’s plotting and conquering, but as the captain of the guard, he was ultimately responsible for every loss of life.

This was no way for a dragon to live.

* * *

In his room, Eivross closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Just being away from his brother helped ease the tension, the knot in his gut that made him want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

He walked to the bookshelf where he kept some of his treasure, running his fingertip gently along the edge of the wooden shelf and staring at the book spines until his eyes watered and everything went hazy. He blinked and inhaled sharply, taking a step back, and then another, before he turned and dropped to his knees at the storage ottoman at the end of the bed. He lifted the lid and pulled out one of his mom’s spoons. The heavy silver spoon had a dragon-shaped handle with real ruby eyes.

He leaned against the end of the bed and tilted the spoon back and forth, remembering the happier times of their youth, when their mom was alive and their dad hadn’t been so caught up in grief that he didn’t realize his youngest son had gotten tangled up in a greedy web of power, looking for ways to rise swiftly within the nest.

Eivross had buried himself in school after his mom passed away, practically living in the nest’s library, often falling asleep with his head on an open book. Even he’d been in the dark about just how power-hungry and crazy his brother had gotten. The day his brother had killed their father still haunted him.