Dragons and Mayhem Read online

  “The roof is going to be a madhouse with people trying to take off,” Math said, grimacing. “Have you seen Cai?”

  “Not yet,” Arawn said, looking around the crowd. “He texted he’s coming in, though.”

  “Always has to make an entrance.” Math looked over the heads of the crowd, searching. He was taller than Arawn by less than an inch, but he liked to stretch his neck and show it off. “Is that him, over by the doors?”

  Arawn’s phone buzzed again. The text from Cai read, GOM, WTF is this? R U here?

  Sounded like Cai was getting close to losing his temper. He was a volatile lad, and in dragons, volatile meant something rather dangerous. “He just texted again. That’s him.”

  From over by the doors, their childhood friend Cai Wyvern waved at Arawn and Mathonwy and began swimming overhand through the tightly packed crowd, grabbing shoulders and pushing them behind himself.

  Arawn watched the people whom Cai was shoving out of his way in case he needed to call one of his sentries to bring a fire extinguisher.

  Cai stepped between a dragon and his mate in his haste.

  Arawn held his phone, ready to intervene, but Cai showed them something on his phone. They all laughed before Cai resumed his crawl through the throng toward the dais and thrones.

  Behind Arawn and Mathonwy, trumpets played a brassy flourish to announce the entrance of the Dragon Queen and Dragon King to the throne room.

  Cai finally reached where Arawn and Math were standing, tugging his dark red and gold ducal robe back into place from where it had dragged over people. “Hey, guys.”

  Mathonwy told him, “I cannot believe how close you cut arrivals. It’s why you’re late half the time.”

  Cai slugged Math’s shoulder. “The party doesn’t start until I’m here.”

  Arawn scowled. “What did you show Sileretti and Eurig?”

  “Oh, I was at a natural’s party in the Hills last night, and these ladies showed up.” Cai showed Math and Arawn a photo of himself surrounded by three of the hottest new singers in California. One had her arm around Cai’s waist. Another sat on his lap. The last had her tongue in his ear.

  Arawn flinched and stepped back. “Jeez, Cai.”

  Math chuckled at him. “And yet you never invite us to these parties.”

  Cai laughed at them. “You grinds schedule business meetings before noon. You can’t stay out until daybreak like I do. I have to attend these parties because that’s where I meet the talent to book into DD’s casinos and arenas.”

  Arawn noted the truth of this but did not approve of Cai’s methods. Business meetings should be conducted in conference rooms, and the agenda should be distributed at least twenty-four hours ahead of time. New hires should be vetted and approved by the proper channels unless there was a dire reason to circumvent those safeguards.

  Perhaps he should see Cai more like an intelligence officer developing assets, Arawn considered. His methods were irregular but did produce results.

  Perhaps that was more charitable.

  Arawn said to Cai, “And I needlessly worried that you were showing Silveretti a picture of your girlfriend.”

  “Never,” Cai laughed. “I shy away from women after two or three dates. Girlfriends are for chumps who want to get mated.”

  Grief speared Arawn, and he shook his head. “Sometimes it doesn’t work that way.”

  Cai elbowed both of them. “Shut up. The Royal Ones are about to tell us why they dragged us here in the middle of the week, practically at dawn.”

  It was fifteen minutes after two o’clock, but Arawn supposed that was close enough to be considered dawn in Cai’s life.

  Queen Bronwyn and King Llywelyn settled onto their thrones, smiling serenely at the crowd as befitted dragon monarchs.

  The King stood and looked down at his mate, who nodded at him.

  With that signal, he straightened. “Let it be known that Queen Bronwyn and I have decided to abdicate and thus relinquish the Dragon Throne.”

  The crowd gasped and collectively drew back.

  Because King Llywelyn had called Arawn that morning to arrange security for the ceremony, he just watched.

  Math and Cai nearly stumbled, however. It was quite shocking.

  The king continued, “We will retire to live out our remaining days in peace and quiet and to give new blood a chance to lead the New Wales Dragon Clan into the future. Our retirement shall commence three months from now, assuming that the Dragon Scepter chooses a suitable new monarch.”

  But Arawn hadn’t known the timeline. Whoa. King Llywelyn and Queen Bronwyn were serious about this retirement thing.

  King Llywelyn extended his hands and waited for the room to settle. He said, “As I said, Her Excellency Queen Bronwyn and I wish to retire to Florida, because evidently, Los Angeles isn’t quite warm enough for aging, cold-blooded reptiles.”

  A chuckle ran through the audience around Arawn.

  Queen Bronwyn pressed her lips together in a thin smile. She touched her hair, which shone regally silver, and adjusted the gold and diamond crown on her head.

  “As is traditional,” King Llywelyn said, gesturing to where two courtiers had entered the throne room, holding a barbell-sized scepter between them, “people of noble rank will approach the Dragon Scepter first, followed by those invited by the queen and myself, and then anyone who wants to try their hand, until the scepter selects a new monarch.”

  Arawn drew in a breath, but he had felt this day would be coming for a while.

  The king continued, “The Dukes of the New Wales Dragon Clan will now approach the scepter, if they should so choose.”

  Arawn hesitated.

  If he put himself forward and touched that thing, he was morally and magically bound to take the throne. His whole life would change, and not necessarily for the better.

  Because he was unmated, supernatural women of every variety would arrange to meet him. Assuming that his fated mate was still out there, she might see him on Dragonbook or Twitwyrm and find him fascinating, and then she would find him.

  And then he wouldn’t be able to help himself.

  He sighed. His heart pulled in his chest.

  Mathonwy and Cai hadn’t moved yet, either.

  “We should do it,” Math said.

  Arawn nodded, though he would have preferred to walk away. “Yes, it’s our duty.”

  “Why the hell not?” Cai said, stomping up the steps. He grabbed the scepter first, his fist tight around the center, and lifted the long rod capped by a crystal orb and gems above his head.

  The scepter’s magic sparked, illuminated the transparent globe, and—

  Hope lit in Arawn. He might not even have to walk up there.

  —and the scepter sputtered.

  And it went dark.

  Negative. That was a negative.

  Though it was a very interesting negative.

  If this selection process went through multiple rounds, Lord Cai, the Duke of Wyvern, had just established himself as a contender.

  Cai laughed and dropped the scepter back into the pages’ waiting hands. He bowed to the king and queen and leaped off the other side of the dais to the ground.

  It was time.

  Arawn intended to lift the scepter because there were worse choices than himself. No one understood the scepter’s power or reasoning, except perhaps the witches and mages who had assembled it.

  Since it had been crafted, everyone had accepted its judgment, thus preventing trials by combat and civil wars due to disputed inheritance of the throne, which had doubtlessly saved many dragon lives.

  He slipped through the tightly packed crowd and neared the dais with its empty thrones and the scepter. Since he was obligated to try the scepter by the virtue of his ducal title, he might as well get it over with early so he could talk to friends or fly out of this madhouse.

  He wove through the crowd, approaching the line to the dais.

  The Earl and Countess of Fafnir encroached on Arawn
’s path, so he slowed.

  Countess Morgana extended her hand, smiling and crinkling her face into a happy map of wrinkles. “Duke Tiamat, Your Grace. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  “My Lady Morgana, the pleasure is mine.” He brushed his lips across her swollen knuckles while she chuckled at him. “Am I right in thinking you plan to try for the throne again?”

  Countess Morgana of Fafnir pursed her lips and drew herself up to her full height, which was a little shy of five feet tall now that arthritis was beginning to shrink her. “Of course, I will.” But more quietly, “I’m not a laughingstock, am I?”

  “Oh, my lady,” Arawn said, “no one would dare.” He wasn’t kidding.

  She retracted her hand. “Perhaps I should let younger people have a go at it.”

  “Anyone can lift the scepter and try, so you’re not taking anyone’s spot. The scepter has responded to you at every one of these selections. It would look odd if you didn’t. People might talk.”

  She seemed mollified. “You always know the right thing to say, Arawn.”

  “Only with you, Great-Aunt. Is your wine good?”

  Her dark eyes took on a twinkle. “Very. And you’re going to try your hand, are you not?”

  “It’s expected for the higher nobility if one can’t make an escape.”

  “I—” she paused for effect, “—have wagered a hundred gold pieces on you.”

  “You—” Arawn paused, too, “—are going to lose your money. Bet it on someone who wants it.”

  “Oh, my shiny, blue-flamed boy, I think you’d make an excellent Dragon King.”

  “I believe your chances are better than mine, Countess. Good day.”

  Countess Morgana had tried the selection process the last three times the scepter had been called upon to choose a new ruler, with the last being over two decades before when Arawn had been twenty years old. That time, four ceremonies like this one had occurred before the scepter had finally selected Llywelyn and Bronwyn to be successors to King Cadfael and Queen Tiwlip.

  Of course, his great-aunt Countess Morgana would try for the throne. She would be an excellent queen if the scepter chose her. If she didn’t go up there on her own, Arawn would start the chant to force her up on the dais.

  It wouldn’t be the first time Morgana had faked reticence to hear her name chanted by the crowd, but she would rule well as the Dragon Queen.

  Many choices would be worse.

  Which was why Arawn strode up the steps of the dais.

  He grasped the scepter in the center. The gold was warm under his hand, and a tingle of magic flowed into his flesh. He flexed his fingers around the rod, testing its weight, before steadily lifting it over his head.

  Sparks again.

  Silver and blue sparks, the colors of his house.

  The orb glowed with an iridescent, silvery light.

  Arawn held it over his head, staring it down and readying himself if it did choose him.

  The scepter popped like a burned-out light bulb and went dark.

  Relief flooded through him, but he maintained his demeanor.

  He settled the scepter into the waiting pages’ hands.

  The Dragon King walked over to where he stood. “Is it broken? Let me see that.”

  Arawn stepped away, ceding the scepter, and Llywelyn lifted it.

  Just as when Llywelyn had been crowned, the scepter sprang to life, fountaining magic sparks and shining with golden light.

  Arawn stepped off the dais and began to break through the crowd to leave.

  King Llywelyn tossed the scepter to Queen Bronwyn, who caught it with one hand. It continued to pour magic from both ends and pulse with a golden glow.

  Queen Bronwyn announced, “It seems to be in order. Next!”

  Mathonwy Draco stepped up to the Dragon Scepter.

  Arawn looked back, anticipating the ceremony’s end.

  The Dragon Scepter sparked dark and jewel-toned fire, and then it coughed and fizzled out again.

  That was surprising.

  As Arawn stepped through the crowd, he passed dozens more people lined up to take their turns with the scepter. He made his way to the door to the roof, where he found Cai laughing with a beautiful young woman, who was definitely flirting back with Cai.

  He leaned against a wall and rested, perfectly content to wait until Mathonwy made his way through the throng to them.

  Cai asked Mathonwy, “Are you kidding me?”

  Math raised an eyebrow at him. “About what?”

  Arawn shook his head. “Obviously, it’s broken.”

  The three of them turned in time to see Maredudd, the dragon who would have liked to use Arawn’s personnel to threaten a business partner, yank the scepter over his head.

  A lone, green spark popped out of the end and died on its way to the floor.

  Arawn rolled his eyes. Figures.

  Math said, “Seems like it’s working fine to me.”

  Audience with His Majesty

  ARAWN hung around the perimeter of the room, skulking near the walls with Mathonwy and Cai, until the Dragon Scepter had spit a few sparks and gone dark for everyone who tried it.

  Arawn wasn’t sure if he were more embarrassed for his clan or the magical instrument. Both seemed lacking in something.

  Finally, after the scepter had coughed up its last pathetic spark spit, Queen Bronwyn announced that the clan would reconvene in the Royal Palace in three months to try again. The monarchs did, indeed, want to get started with learning to golf and snorkel.

  The Dragon King and Dragon Queen really could not indulge in such leisure activities while they ruled. They had important jobs to do, taking care of the clan and the clan’s business, and such frivolities were beneath their dignity.

  Arawn understood this devotion to duty and pragmatism. It suited him, too.

  Then, the three of them stood in the ridiculously long line that led to the rooftop terrace, where they could take off and fly home. Arawn should have had the Ways and Means Committee turn the tennis courts into an auxiliary landing pad.

  Just as Arawn and his two buddies had reached the front of the line to climb the steps to the turret where they could release their dragons and fly away, King Llywelyn huffed up the last few stairs and caught up to them. “Your Graces, if you could attend me for a few minutes.”

  Math said, “I really have to get back to the office for meetings.”

  Arawn shook his head. “There are concerns I need to attend to.”

  Cai laughed in the king’s face. “I need coffee. A lot of it.”

  King Llywelyn raised one gray eyebrow at them, shifting his crown slightly on his head. “Come on.”

  He spun on his heel and stalked away.

  As Llywelyn was the king, Arawn looked at his two compatriots, and then they sighed and followed him deeper into the palace. As they walked, wide windows caught the sea breeze blowing off the Pacific Ocean outside. Gauzy curtains flowed as they walked past a long music room, silent but for the ocean waves crashing against the cliffs far below. It looked like a nice day for flying.

  The king held open the door to his office as they filed in.

  Cai and Arawn sat in the chairs after a quick staring contest. Math leaned against the wall beside them.

  King Llywelyn settled into the office chair behind his wide desk and regarded the three of them for a minute before he spoke. It was almost long enough for Arawn to start to fidget, but he managed to sit still.

  The king finally announced, “You three will never find a mate hanging out in the dragon dens all your lives.”

  Arawn looked down at his hands, gutted. He did not need to think about this right now.

  Cai laughed out loud and braced his hands on his knees, nearly falling out of his chair. “I’m out. This conversation just got too kinky for me.”

  Beside them, Math startled but didn’t go running for the hills.

  Arawn continued staring at his clenched hands. He said, “It’s not s
omething that can be forced. You can’t decide to go into mating fever so you can mate on some sort of a timetable or because you think you know better than your biology.”

  Math said, “There’s nothing wrong with working in the dens. We’re all busy with our careers and the business of the clan.”

  The Dragon King said, “Of course not, but you need to go out into the world and meet other supernatural people, and natural ones, too. There has been too much of dragons marrying dragons the last few generations. It’s not good for anyone. It’s not good politically. It’s not good magically. Families get inbred, and the magic loses its power.”

  Math told the king, “Look, I’m not going to go out and target a witch or another type of shifter to marry just because it’s good for the dragon population’s magic levels. Besides, I wasn’t even planning on getting married, or at least not yet. I always thought I would work on my career until I was in my late fifties or early seventies—you know, have a life—and then I’d find someone practical to settle down with. I’m only forty-two. I have decades before I’ll even begin to feel the mating fever.”

  The king scowled. “The scepter almost chose one of you.”

  Arawn muttered, “Something’s wrong with it.”

  The king agreed, “The Dragon Scepter has been losing its luster, but I think it’s good for another few monarchs. Anyway, we don’t have to worry about it for three more months. In the meantime, may I speak to Duke Draco alone? We have some committee business to discuss.”

  Cai and Arawn left Math there. Cai looked behind them as he and Arawn walked out, but Arawn strode out of there as fast as his long legs could carry him.

  It felt like a storm was gathering in his chest with shocks of lightning, thunder, and thick rain soaking his lungs. He needed to get the Hell out of there, right then.

  Behind him, Cai called, “Arawn? Hey! Where are you going?”

  He sprinted up the stairs, bypassing everyone in line, and leaped onto the launch pad just as the Dark Other blasted through his skin and soared into the air.