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

  With that signal, he straightened. “Let it be known,” the king said, his eyes flashing the flowing glitter of a mature dragonmate, “that the Queen and myself have decided to abdicate and thus relinquish the Dragon Throne.”

  The crowd gasped and collectively drew back.

  Math was as stunned as the rest of them, though he didn’t show it.

  Wow, retirement.

  Leading the clan wasn’t a job that you quit. Kings and queens didn’t retire.

  Until now.

  Most dragon monarchs reigned well into their old age, as was their duty, until they died or became too feeble. Some reigns lasted a century or longer.

  Well, the world was changing, and the New Wales Dragon Clan needed to change with it.

  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.”

  Another wave of shock rolled through the room.

  Three months.

  In the few instances when a monarch had retired due to declining health, they had usually given five years’ notice of the change, not mere months.

  And yet, a cold energy flowed down Math’s spine.

  Within Math’s flesh, his dragon soul uncoiled, intrigued by this new possibility, the opportunity to become the alpha dragon of the clan.

  But Mathonwy Draco wouldn’t be the new king. He was too young, untried, and just beginning his career. The Dragon Scepter had always chosen older monarchs who were over a hundred and thirty or so. Even though he had lived more than forty years, a natural human wouldn’t have guessed he was over twenty-five. The coupled dragon soul slows aging and extends lifespan in dragon shifters.

  The Scepter wouldn’t choose him to be the Dragon King.

  Not this time, at least.

  Maybe in a century or so.

  His dragon watched restlessly out of his eyes, sizing up the other shifter souls that might stand for the monarchy.

  Math wasn’t sure how much of his ambition was his own aspirations, which had driven him to graduate at the top of his classes from university and business school, and how much was his dragon’s desire to metaphorically crouch atop the clan’s hoard and declare himself the alpha.

  It didn’t matter, really. His two souls—the human one and his supernatural, dragon anima—were twins and reflections of each other. Both strove for more and worked too hard to achieve. Math had inherited the dukedom, which some might think marked him for greatness, but Math knew better. The days of inherited power had been over for decades. His father had made sure he knew that before—

  Math cleared his throat, staring down at his shined shoes that poked out below his pants cuffs and the gold-embroidered robe for a moment before he looked up at the King and Queen again.

  His father had made sure that Math knew that the world owed him nothing.

  Math had little desire to be the King, anyway. He had earned an MBA from a top-tier business school and was deeply involved in the business and civic duties. His talents were better suited for Dragons Den, Inc. and the Nobles Council’s committees that got the work done, not as an autocrat in a monarchy that was rapidly becoming a figurehead. He was excellent at managing projects for the company and building consensus in meetings, not to mention that he had sniffed out several thieves who had been pilfering from the company’s and the city’s accounts. Finance had been his best subject in B-school. He could read spreadsheets like some musicians read music, hearing the patterns in his head as he scrolled.

  No, surely he wouldn’t be chosen.

  Not this time.

  Perhaps not ever.

  His friends Arawn and Cai, though, they both had a chance at winning the monarchy.

  Arawn Tiamat was as dependable as they come, a solid choice who would rule with a steady hand, fairness, and an eye toward the clan’s security that no one else could equal.

  And Cai—

  Well, Cai Wyvern would be the most interesting monarch since Mad King Guorthigern, who had mated and married Good Queen Ceridwen. Queen Ceridwen had summarily locked Guorthigern in the High Tower of their castle to live with his howling madness and carried on with a succession of lovers while she ruled the New Wales Dragon Clan, leading the clan to greater prominence in dragon society and increasing their territory seven-fold. Ceridwen had been a model queen, except for the part where she imprisoned her mate, probably.

  King Llywelyn extended his hands and waited for the room to settle down. 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 titter ran through the audience around Math, and Queen Bronwyn pressed her lips together in a thin smile. She touched her hair, which shone regally silver, and adjusted the gold and diamond diadem on her head.

  Her eyes were a glittering, molten blue, which matched both her dragon and her temperament. Math had met her on many occasions, as Bronwyn was his godmother. Her personality wasn’t icy but calm, cool, and breezy.

  “As is traditional,” King Llywelyn said, gesturing to where two men had entered the throne room near the throne dais, 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.”

  If the scepter selects a new monarch, Math mentally added.

  The last time the scepter had been called upon to choose a new ruler, over two decades before when Math had been twenty years old, 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.

  Still, it was better than succession by combat. At least the dragon clan didn’t do that anymore. Legends were still told of The Bloody Succession of 1631 that had decimated the clan nearly to the point of non-viability.

  As the two dragon shifters lugged the long scepter between them toward the dais, King Llywelyn announced, “The Dukes of the New Wales Dragon Clan will now approach the scepter, if they should so choose.”

  Some of the older dukes stepped back or glanced down at their shoes, not willing to take on the enormous responsibility and packed schedule of the monarchs. They’d had their chances, and they’d built their own lives, instead.

  Math hesitated.

  As did Arawn and Cai.

  “We should do it,” Math said.

  Arawn sighed. “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—

  Math blinked, shocked but relieved he wouldn’t even have to risk lifting the scepter.

  But, Cai, really? The scepter was going to choose Cai, out of all the accomplished and distinguished dragons in the room, Cai?

  —and sputtered.

  And went dark.

  False alarm.

  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 floor.

  Math had almost expected him to crowd-surf to the exit.

  Arawn ascended to try his hand next. He grasped the scepter in the center, his blond brows furrowed, and he tested his fingers around the rod before steadily raising it over his head.

  Sparks again.

  Math tensed.

  The orb glowed.

  Math stepped backward.

  And the scepter popped like a burnt light bulb.

  This was weird. Usually, the scepter usually eit
her stayed dark and had no response or else it illuminated when it made a selection.

  Still frowning, Arawn settled the scepter back in the waiting men’s hands.

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

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

  The scepter sprang to life, fountaining magic sparks and shining with golden light.

  The crowd didn’t step back this time because they expected the show. No one in that crowd was afraid of a little fire. Their garments were saturated with flame retardant in case of an unfortunate argument or overindulgence in the bean dip.

  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 said, “It seems to be in order. Next!”

  She handed it back to the two pages.

  Mathonwy Draco stepped up to the Dragon Scepter. As he stretched out his hand, magic and internal fire from the scepter warmed his palm and fingers. He grasped it, wrapping his fist around the warm gold, and hoisted it above his head.

  Sparks!

  Glow!

  And—

  And the damn thing fizzled out again.

  Dammit.

  Mathonwy placed the scepter back in the outstretched hands of the pages, bowed to the monarchs, and exited, yielding the stage to the Earl and Countess of Fafnir. Countess Morgana had steel in her eye as she ascended the steps and stared down the scepter.

  After he sidled his way through the crowd, stopping at the open bar in back for a spot of day-drinking, Arawn and Cai were waiting for him by the door to the roof.

  Cai asked Math, “Are you kidding me?”

  Math raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

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

  Math turned in time to see Maredudd, the heir to the Earl of Tarragon and a twerp who thought he had been Math’s high school nemesis, yank the scepter over his head. A lone, green spark popped out of the end and died on its way to the floor.

  Math turned back to Cai and Arawn. “Looks like it’s working fine to me.”

  Audience with His Majesty

  AFTER everyone who tried the Dragon Scepter was found lacking in some way by the magical instrument, the Queen announced that they would reconvene in three months to try again because the monarchs did, indeed, want to get started with learning to golf and snorkel.

  Royal duties were such that the King and Queen really could not indulge in such leisure activities. They had important jobs to do, taking care of the clan and the clan’s business, and such frivolities were beneath their dignity, at least until they retired.

  Dragons had very high expectations of their monarchs.

  Just as Math 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 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 said, “There are concerns I need to attend to.”

  Cai shook his head. “I need coffee. A lot of it.”

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

  He spun on his heel and stalked away.

  As Llywelyn was the king, they followed him deeper into the palace, the gorgeous mansion with wide windows that caught the sea breeze blowing off the Pacific. Gauzy curtains flowed as they walked past a long music room, silent but for the ocean waves crashing against the cliffs far below.

  He held the door to his office as they filed in. Cai and Arawn sat in the chairs. Math leaned against the wall beside them.

  King Llywelyn settled into the chair behind his wide desk and regarded the three of them for a minute before he spoke. “You three will never find mates hanging out in the dragon dens all your lives.”

  Math reared back, shocked.

  Cai laughed out loud and braced his hands on his knees so he wouldn’t fall out of his chair. “I’m out. This conversation just got too kinky for me.”

  Arawn stared at his shoes. “It’s not something 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. Clans get inbred, and the magic loses its power.”

  Math said, “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 scepter almost chose one of you.”

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

  “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 left with an apologetic glance. Arawn, with not so much as an eye flicker toward him.

  The King said, “I need you to go to Las Vegas.”

  When the door closed behind them, Math said, “Seriously, I don’t care how low dragon birth rates have fallen, you’re not putting me out to stud.”

  “No, no.” With lines gathering between his brows and a stiff frown, the King looked irritated. “Dragons Den, Inc. has a property in Las Vegas, a casino that should be opening in three months, but there’s a problem. It’s behind schedule, and there’s something wrong with the finances. I need you there. I need you to figure out what the hell is going on. We have a walk-through scheduled for angel investors in a month, and it’s got to look good if we’re going to get the money we need to open on time.”

  Math shrugged. “As long as this isn’t a mission to find me a mate.”

  “If you want to look for a mate while you’re in Las Vegas,” the King said, shuffling some papers on his desk, “do it after you’ve figured out what’s going on with the finances. Someone is stealing from the clan. And get that place ready for the first round of angel investors that are going to show up in a month.”

  Three Witches

  BETHANY stood on her toes and craned her head, trying to see through the crowd and find her friend Willow, who should be weaving her way through the throngs of students arriving at Las Vegas International Airport for their spring break. “Why didn’t she call us? We don’t even know if she’s off the plane. Intercontinental jets can carry hundreds of people. She might be stuck way at the back. She might not even get here for an hour.”

  Beside her, Ember was also ducking and peering around people, trying to get a clear view of the people coming out of the tunnel. “I’ll just send up an air elemental to see if she’s in the gate area yet.” Ember cupped her hands together and began to blow gently into her fingers.

  Bethany slapped Ember’s hands down. “Don’t. The last thing we need is a bunch of naturals freaking out because they saw something they shouldn’t have.” Or a whirling air elemental raising chaos and dust in an airport. Even the plants were dirty.

  “It’ll only take form for a second. No one will even see it.”

  Bethany held her hands over Ember’s
. “We can’t chance it. Besides, who knows what will happen?”

  Ember snatched her hands away. “I’m just going to look. It’ll just take a second.”

  “Ember, don’t!”

  “You are such a mouse. Our magic will never improve if we don’t work at it and take chances. It’s like a muscle. If you work harder at it, it will get stronger.”

  Bethany shook her head, frowning. “We keep saying that, but it never gets any better.”

  Between her cupped palms, a tiny tornado took shape, the funnel glistening pink. Its bright blue eyes blinked up at Ember, and then it glanced at Bethany.

  Ember said, “See? It’s going to be just fine—”

  The semi-transparent air elemental grew within her palms, growing to the size of a cat.

  “Uh-oh.”

  Bethany gasped, “Ember, what have you done?”

  The air elemental expanded around them, whipping a newspaper into its vortex and grabbing at people’s clothes. It reached out with playful, shimmering hands, sank its fingers deeply into Bethany’s hair, and gave her a noogie that Bethany knew was tying knots in her long, dark strands.

  Ember swung her fingers through the air, trying to control or minimize the air elemental with her spellcasting hand gestures, but the towering tornado took off through the airport, careening through the crowd. Shrieks followed the whirlwind as people stumbled or were tripped by the whipping air. A man yelled, “Hey! Somebody close that door!”

  Bethany tried to comb the rat’s nest out of her hair with her fingers while she chased the elemental, trying desperately to clean up its mess. “Dang it, Ember.”

  Ember kept trying to control the air elemental, pantomiming throwing lassos at the half-invisible, giggling dust devil that bounced through the crowd. “I’ll get it under control. I promise. Why can’t we be like other witches? Other witches our age can control their magic. We studied hard. We took extra lessons and private tutoring. What is wrong with us?”

  Bethany shushed her, even though none of the naturals around them would have believed their ears even if they had understood what Ember had said. She stacked papers and threw debris in the dustbins, but she couldn’t keep up with the raging elemental. “Just make it go away.”