Her jaw went slack as she realized that this was one of the royal princes. A direct descendant of Lycaon, the Arcadian king who’d founded their race.
But before she could bow to him, Illarion snorted disdainfully. So-fucking-what, Fang? You’re a Kattalakis, too.
Sebastian arched an arrogant brow at his rude dismissal. “Yes, but my grandfather was the king’s son. The original Apollite heir born from his queen, Mysene.”
Well la-di-da, Mr. Fancy Pants. Aren’t you special? You want a hero cookie to go with that title?
Blaise feigned a coughing fit. “Excuse me. I’m having a weird Kerrigan flashback. Should I leave now before lethal things start flying?”
No, I’m the one leaving. My brother needs me and the air in here is suddenly stale.
“Wait!” Sebastian ordered in a tone that left Illarion with a soured expression on his handsome face. One that said Sebastian was about to be in serious pain.
Or in a burn ward.
“I came here to warn Fang about what was happening. A few minutes ago, I received a summons from my cousin to attend a harrowing for the Dragonbane he’s captured.”
Seraphina gasped at his words.
Why did you come here?
Sebastian shrugged at Illarion’s belligerent question. “I thought you might want to get word to Savitar to stop it. As a limani, Fang has the ability to contact him. I don’t. And having been harrowed, myself, I don’t condone it against another. Ever. I find the whole practice of it distasteful and beneath both our species.”
Seraphina couldn’t agree more.
Illarion glared at each of them in turn. What did you people do? Take out ads? For thousands of years, Max stayed hidden and safe. He pinned that hostile glare on her. You come back into his life for five minutes and it starts falling apart again. Everyone now knows who he is and they’re all attacking him. Why do you have to ruin his life every time you come near it?
“That’s not fair!”
No, it isn’t! He never did anything to you, except try to protect you. I wish you’d do him a favor and get out of his life before you kill him.
Blaise gasped. “Illarion…”
Don’t, brother. It’s the truth I speak. We’re all thinking it. I just said it. I’m sick to death of watching my brother bleed for her.
Seraphina took a step toward him, intending to make him eat those words, but before she could, a loud thump sounded on the other side of the curtains.
All of them froze.
In unison, they turned toward the unexpected rustling. An exasperated sigh was punctuated by the curtains parting only enough to launch a round object from between them. It shot across the room and landed with another wet, squishy thump on the floor before it rolled a few feet.
Edena shrieked and danced toward her brother as the object came to rest near her and turned out to be a disembodied human head.
An instant later, a huge, spiny dragon poked his head out from between the curtains to offer a lopsided grin. “Sorry, love. Didn’t realize anyone was here.”
Seraphina gaped at the sight of Maxis lying there as if nothing unusual had happened.
He arched one dragon brow at Sebastian. “Hope that’s not a friend of yours. And if it is, tough shit. He was an asshole. Anyone got some extra-large dental floss on them? I’ve got a chunk of Arcadian dragonslayer stuck in my teeth. Nasty-tasting stuff, that. And Illarion, you’re wrong. It does not taste like chicken. More like three-day-old rotten ass.”
Blaise and Fang burst out laughing. Sebastian looked offended. Hadyn and Edena gaped.
“If I said that, I’d be on restriction forever,” Hadyn mumbled to his sister.
“Yes, you would. And don’t forget it.” Shaking her head, Seraphina closed the distance between them so she could check on Max and make sure he was all right.
That she wasn’t hallucinating his sudden appearance.
Max didn’t move as he watched his dragonswan walk toward him with a slow saunter. He waited for the condemnation he was sure would follow for his having killed one of her people.
But honestly? He was too tired and in way too much pain to care. Let her hate him. The bastard deserved it. They’d tried to skewer him.
Next time, they should bring more men. Larger spears. And marinate themselves in some soy sauce.
Gah, what kind of piss-poor diet were they on? Rotten cat meat? Cabbage wine?
Yet instead of condemning him, she sank down on her knees by his face and fell against his snout. And when she threw herself, weeping, to hold him close, he wasn’t real sure what to think or do. It was so unexpected that for several heartbeats, he was rather certain he was dreaming.
Or dead.
“Sera?” he said from between clenched teeth. The way she had him held, he couldn’t open his mouth without harming her.