Andon, representative for Clan Sillas and dragons in direct opposition to the Mad Queen, held himself stiffly and ignored the chaos going on around him. His honor guard stood just as stiffly on either side and two steps behind him.

A cage was being constructed in the center of the cleared warehouse and all the mutts and inferiors were running around in high excitement. But Andon chose not to see the little mice scurry. He focused on the man in charge of them all.

Eoghan Gilchrist had been human the last time Andon had been allowed in the warehouse where the man held his pitiful court. Allowed. As if the human Don of a weak Shadow Mob could control a dragon. But the man had access to the rough sort of shifters who didn’t mind throwing claws around for cash, so Andon held his tongue.

Gilchrist never stopped touching the woman at his side. A hand on her knee, an arm over the back of her shoulders, fingers tracing her fingers.

The human had become dragon and the dragon had taken a mate.

It was puzzling. Gilchrist was too old to have gone into his first Heat. It happened when men were half his age. The scent of dragon should have been on him from the start, even if he had somehow delayed his natural process. The only known method of delay? Raise a dragonling away from his kind so there was never a chance for his shifter genes to spark. With decades of war and the dragons confined to Patomas- and the court keeping a tight rein on all its citizens, there was only one explanation for how an unknown male dragon could have been raised away from his clan.

There were the stories, of course. The famed Lost Princes. Five were born and five were stolen away. The Mad Queen went mad after her children vanished without a trace.

Andon thought he had found one.

Favors would be lavished on him if he returned a prince to Patomas. Not by the Mad Queen, of course. She and the Pythian would surely end their vicious war to buy back such a valuable hostage.

And if they didn’t, more clans would join with Sillas and unite against the Dragon Court. The islands embroiled in war would finally have some peace and the ill-fit rulers would be torn down. Andon would welcome his role as hero.

The woman next to him was intriguing in her own right. Dragon, too, if his nose wasn’t too filled with the stink of Gilchrist. Why would another dragon be in his court?

Lenore hadn’t mentioned that fact when she lured Andon back to the filthy city. Did the woman think he would be averse to killing another dragon? He would be paid well for killing Lenore’s rival. But something even more thrilling had fallen into his lap when he agreed to take the job.

He would need to inform his superiors. Both Gilchrist and the female would need to be run through the Department of Powyrworld Affairs. Gilchrist, in particular, would need a blood sample to confirm his true lineage. Andon was already forming a plan to get it.

“I deeply regret how our talks ended last time but I was gladdened to hear you were willing to hear my requests.” Andon kept any stray emotion out of his voice. He was there on official business, after all. His side projects would need to remain hidden until his trap was ready to spring.

Gilchrist titled his head and whispered something into the female’s ear, not taking his eyes off Andon.

Andon would kill them both if he didn’t need to keep Gilchrist alive.

“Frankly, I just don’t see why ya had tae see me. The answer is the same as before. I won’t back the losing side of a war I don’t even care about.”

Andon wanted to grind his teeth. The man had given no answer before. Gilchrist had cut off negotiations without warning. Andon left after being told one time too many that the man was otherwise occupied. The disrespect was astounding.

“If I may suggest—” Andon began.

“Speak up, man. Ya can see there’s work going on,” Gilchrist interrupted.

Andon cleared his throat and tried not to glare at all the scurrying shifters around him. They should be put to better use than hammering away at bleachers and fencing. He should have been seen in a quiet place without all the activity.

“If I may suggest, Don Gilchrist, you and your… mate are welcome to tour our lands. I would extend you all the courtesy of Clan Sillas and you could see the strides that have been made in our conflict for yourself. We have made many alliances. We are not a losing side.” Andon himself had made many of those deals. Only half-bloods or those without the ability to shift were able to leave Patomas. He had orders to travel with his meager entourage and cajole and pay for mercenaries to supplement the troops.

Gilchrist spread his hands wide. “It isn’t in the signs, my friend.”

“Frankly, Don, your signs are wrong.” Andon struggled to keep the growl out of his voice. “We barely spoke when I was last here. I don’t see how you could formulate a proper decision with such little time or focus.”

“It didn’t need any time or focus. The answer was always going tae be no. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a reservation tae meet.” Gilchrist stood and pulled his female to her feet. He slung his arm over her shoulder and they sauntered away several steps, utterly ignoring Andon. Only when they neared the door did Gilchrist turn them both. “Stay the week, if ya choose. The fights are a big draw. Ya can see the strides we make in our conflicts.”

Andon snapped, “I don’t care what you think of me or my Clan, but the courteous thing to do would have been to invite me and hear out my proposal.”

Gilchrist dropped his arm and tongued his teeth before crossing the warehouse. He stood within inches of Andon. His face sharpened and his eyes turned to ice. “We’re not in yer false court. Do not try tae school me. Yer here by my courtesy alone. Test me again and see how far that takes ya.”

Andon bit his tongue and held his words. He ground his teeth together until he was locked behind thick doors in the dank hotel room the Don set aside in his blasted courtesy. Andon didn’t even bother to unpack before he dug out his phone and dialed his next option.

There was no answer, of course. Mariko liked to use secure lines. It was only a few minutes before Andon’s phone rang.

“Yes?” Mariko’s clipped tone reached his ears.

“I understand you are seeking new lands.”

“Andon, what a pleasant surprise. I have been eyeing some property to the north, yes.”

Andon appreciated Mariko’s take on business negotiations. He felt the anger in his chest start to release. “I also understand you have been unwilling to release workers for my business.”

“This is true. I have concerns for their safety.”

“I think I have a way for you to gain the land that holds your interest.”

The line was so quiet that he thought Mariko had hung up on him. Andon waited. She likely had silenced the call and conferred with her underboss.

The Yakuza were hesitant to strike any deals. They were more organized than the Shadow Mob and seemed to strike with one goal in mind, never the fractured goals of individuals. But if Andon could give them what they wanted—territory—then they would be willing to give him what he needed—mercenaries and a Lost Prince—as payment.

“We will meet and discuss the details. It just so happens I have a prior engagement in your area. I should be free after sunset.”

Andon paused. It was suspicious she was already in the city. Perhaps she was just setting her people to watch the cage fights. She would want to be prepared for anything with the brewing conflict with Gilchrist’s family. “I would add one more request. I want Gilchrist to return to Patomas with me. Alive.”

Mariko didn’t hesitate. “He’s of no concern to me as long as he makes a home elsewhere.”

A timid knock on the door alerted Andon to the arrival of his next meeting. He opened it with a wicked smile. He would have Gilchrist in hand soon enough.

“Hello, Lenore.”