The room went silent as twelve figures separated themselves from the massed members of the court and walked toward the throne. Sawyer, as always, was in the lead, his tall, broad-shouldered form flanked by that of her cousin, Calan, his long hair flowing over his shoulders. His expression, recently all smiles due to his new mate, was as grim and forbidding as Sawyer’s. The other blacks arranged themselves behind the two; Damian and Zac were flanked by Saul and Alex on one side and Ilarion, Joey and Victor on the other. Ari and Nik took the center, either side of the lone female in their midst, Adra. Their trainees, all blacks themselves, amassed behind the twelve.

“A most impressive display indeed, but they do look a little…plain?” Henrick paused as he gestured toward his own group of guards to one side of the throne room. In sumptuous fabrics with brightly polished and totally useless armor, they stood out like peacocks against the twelve who, apart from Calan and Sawyer in court dress, wore utilitarian black combat clothing.

“One could be forgiven for mistaking them for humans…” He frowned as he looked at them. “Not champions of the throne. Were I to sit on the throne, I would ensure that my champions looked the part and were feared by all.”

Cadeyra held on to her smile through sheer force of will. “As long as they do their jobs, I do not force my blacks to wear costumes or perform like monkeys. They are not feared. They are respected—a respect that they have earned time and time again.”

“Really?” Henrick’s eyebrow winged up and then he laughed. “But you have a woman amongst them. Bowing to political correctness because of your gender, I suppose. Does she hold the armor for the rest when they go into battle? Or maybe operates as a distraction?”

He didn’t give Cadeyra a chance to argue, laughing uproariously as though he’d made the best joke in the world. Again, he missed the fact that Cadie and indeed, no one else in the throne room laughed with him. “I know… bring out your greatest fighter against my champion and we’ll see who is the best. Kalos! Attend!” he ordered, clapping his hands. Instantly, the biggest of his guards marched forward, executed a neat right turn and snapped to attention, the heels of his shiny boots ringing like gunshots with each step.

“Yes, sire!”

“Indeed, that would be a worthy test of skill.” Cadeyra inclined her head, lip curling slightly as the devil on her shoulder nudged her, and looked down at the assembled dragons.

“Adra?” Cadeyra’s tone was silky as the female dragon’s chin lifted in acknowledgment. Cadie easily read both the anger and amusement in the other woman’s eyes. “If you would be so kind?”

The female dragon strode forward, her petite figure dwarfed by the men around her as she wove through them to stand in front of the dais. Unlike Kalos, her well-worn boots made no sound on the highly polished floor. “Your Majesty,” she murmured, with a small bow. “As always, I am ready to serve.”

“What?” Henrick’s jaw dropped for a moment, making him look again like a guppy. Then he laughed, the sound a little nervous. “Please, Your Majesty, be serious. Kalos will kill her. “

Cadeyra looked directly at the prince, her expression deadly serious. “Adra is a black, as highly trained as the rest and one of my deadliest fighters. If your man would prefer to cede now, I would totally understand it.”

“No,” Henrick shook his head vehemently. “But there is no way she can win.”

Cadeyra inclined her head. “We shall see. Clear the center of the hall!”

The blacks did as she bid, ushering everyone back toward the safety of the walls. Only Adra remained in the center, turning to walk away from the throne after checking that both Calan and Sawyer had taken protective positions in front of the dais. Cadie’s heart warmed with approval at how they always worked as a team.

“Your Majesty, I must protest—” Kalos broke with protocol and addressed her directly, which earned him a growl from Henrick.

“If the bloody woman insists on going up against you, then offer her no quarter!” he ordered, his voice rising to almost a squeak.

Kalos bowed his head immediately in deference. “Yes, sire.”

He turned to face his opponent. Adra stood in the middle of the hall, feet shoulder-width apart and thumbs hooked loosely in her belt as she watched him. There was no fear on her face and the set of her body was relaxed as she watched him approach.

“This is really gonna hurt, little girl,” he growled, winding a fist back.

The blow didn’t fall. As soon as Kalos threw the punch, Adra moved. Sliding gracefully to the side, she ducked under his fist and moved in. Her hands moved in a flurry of blows, landing on unprotected parts of the big guard’s body with loud slaps.

He grunted in pain and tried to move away, to back up and give himself some room to launch another attack, but the female dragon wasn’t having any of it. Easily, she moved with him, dancing around his larger figure as she took him apart with fists, knees and elbows. Rather than a dance of lust and sensuality, it was a tango of violence and pain, but was no less hypnotic for it.

Kalos roared, managing to break away, and Adra let him. It was obvious to everyone that Henrick’s man was massively outmatched.

“FIGHT, FOR GOD’S SAKE, YOU USELESS IMBECILE!” Henrick screamed, his face nearly purple with rage. “SHE’S JUST A WOMAN!”

Adra looked over her shoulder at Cadeyra, who nodded, unspoken communication flowing between the two women. The next time the female black attacked, she didn’t hold back. Launching herself at Kalos, she slid to the side, swiping newly manifested claws along his side. He roared and part-shifted to slam a tail into the granite where she had been a moment before. But she was already gone. Running full tilt at one of the columns, her opponent in hot pursuit, Adra planted a foot in the middle of the pillar and launched herself from it. Spinning in mid-air, her dark hair a cloak around her, she slammed a small, booted foot into the side of Kalos’ jaw.

He dropped like a stone to lie in a crumbled heap at her feet.

Adra poked at his heaped form with a foot, and then stepped over him to approach the dais.

“I trust that was sufficient, Your Majesty?” she asked, performing a small bow. Before she could straighten up, though, there was a tremendous roar behind her.

The entire hall watched in horror as Kalos’ dragon erupted from his fallen human form. He wasn’t a black, but a dark blue-green with scales reminiscent of an oil slick. Makdorian blue. Cadie’s breath caught as the dragon thundered toward Adra, murder in its red eyes. They were supposed to be extinct, along with the other berserk lines.

A woman screamed, Sawyer and Calan throwing themselves toward Cadeyra to protect her as Kalos launched himself. They needn’t have bothered. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, Adra shifted. Her massive dragon form exploded from the tiny, slender human figure to blot out the light from the windows above. Her wings snapped out wide, filling the hall as she roared in challenge. The sound was loud enough to split eardrums and rattle every pane of glass for blocks.

Kalos hit her in mid-air, wrapping his heavily armored body around her slender, more serpentine one, massive jaws punching out as he bit into every surface he could reach. The snap and screech of teeth on hardened scales made Cadie wince internally but she kept her expression level.

Adra, however, barely seemed to notice the bites. Reaching around, she latched on to the wing joint where it emerged from his shoulder and hauled him off her. Shaking her huge, wedge-shaped head, she shook Kalos like a dog shook its prey, and threw him at the opposite wall. He hit the pillar hard, the stone cracking under the weight of his body.

Before he could slide down it, Adra was on him. Launching herself through the air with strong beats of her wings, she hit him in the center of his chest with all four of her taloned feet, rising above him with her mouth open as her throat glowed with her fire…

Cadie surged to her feet.

“ENOUGH!” she commanded, giving voice to her dragon. Even in the midst of her battle rage, the female black obeyed. She didn’t lose eye contact with her prey, but no fire emerged from her open mouth.

Cadeyra turned to look at Henrick, who looked shell-shocked.

“She was holding back,” he murmured. “All the time, she was holding back. If your female is capable of that, what are the rest like?”

Cadie spread her hand, inviting him to look to the assembled blacks, their expressions as grim and forbidding as her own.

“Most pray they never find out.”

* * *

He shouldn’t have kissed her. Really shouldn’t have kissed her.

Sawyer warred with himself in his head as he escorted Cadie to her suite after the ball had ended. After that little display in the throne room, even though Adra had won, he wasn’t taking any chances. Even if Cadeyra was more in danger from him than anyone else.

“You’re very quiet,” she commented quietly as they reached the top of the staircase to the south wing of the palace. Her suite was on the top floor… the entire top floor.

“Thinking about our guest,” he said carefully. “I don’t trust him.”

He shouldn’t have kissed her.

All it had done was ripped away the bandage he’d slapped over his heart, leaving him open and raw to the world. To her.

She snorted, a tiny, inelegant little laugh totally unlike the one she used in public. No, this was a true laugh… from the real woman behind the legend of the White Queen.

“Yeah… you think I trust him either? That’s why we’re in this mess, pretending to be engaged.”

His heart almost stopped at her words. He closed his eyes as they walked along the corridor toward her bedchambers.

“Mess? Is that what you think we have here?”

Drawing to a stop, he looked down at her. Her face was turned up, the moonlight from the large windows of the corridor playing over her face. Something lurked in the backs of her large, golden eyes, but before he could pin it down, it was gone.

“No…” Her voice was soft, a breathy admission as she leaned into him. “I don’t know what we have here.”

Slowly, so as not to startle her or frighten her off, he slid a hand around her waist and pulled her into him. Her back arched a little as she settled against his broad chest, her small hands spreading out over the front of his jacket.

Instantly, he wished the fabric gone, wished… needed to feel the touch of her soft hands against his skin. A shiver worked its way down his spine.

“Neither do I,” he admitted, pleasure the like of which he’d never known filling him at the feel of her in his arms. It was sublime, easing the loneliness in his soul. “But I don’t want it to end.”

She shook her head, the curls that had escaped her elaborate updo dancing over shoulders bared by her ball gown. He reached out to capture one, wrapping it around his finger. The silence stretched out between them… her eyes searching his as he bent his head.

This time he kept control of himself, and the kiss was light and gentle…a mere whisper of skin against skin as he kissed her softly. She was a delight to the senses, his mate, and for a moment he could pretend this was all real, that she wasn’t a queen and he could claim her for real. The memory of her soft skin under his questing fingers when he had her pressed up against the wall tormented him. She hadn’t argued about him never letting her go, his dragon reminded him, pleasure at the closeness of their mate placating the big beast.

With reluctance, he pulled away. Soft little kisses—lingering caresses of his lips against hers—softened the separation, but he wasn’t quite ready to let her go yet, resting his head against hers.

“Neither do I,” she whispered softly, reaching up to brush her fingertips against his stubbled jaw. He nearly lost the ability to think straight.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he rumbled in a low voice, even though all he wanted to do was take her up on the offer, kiss her until she couldn’t think of anything else and get her to agree to be his mate.

But if he clouded her reason, didn’t allow her to think about the ramifications of such a decision, he was being an asshole. Worse… he could trick her into making a decision that would not only affect the two of them but their race as a whole. The reason they were pretending to be engaged in the first place wasn’t lost on him. She couldn’t marry for love… any marriage for a monarch was far more complex than deciding who sat next to whom at the wedding reception.

“I do…” she protested, clutching at his collar as she closed her eyes. “I want to stay here, with you. Forget all about the court, about everyone else. About bloody Henrick.”

He smiled, but the expression was bittersweet. Her words confirmed this between them had an expiry date. Determinedly, he locked away the agony at the thought that one day she would marry, and he would have to see her in some other man’s arms. Right now, she was in his. It would be enough. It would have to be enough.

“Just for a few minutes,” he murmured, smiling as she settled against his chest with a soft sigh. She was so tiny, her head tucked easily under his chin. So tiny and delicate in human form, which made the strength and magnificence of her dragon form all the more surprising. Scaled, she was easily as big as he was. Magically, she was much more powerful.

“Thank you,” she breathed, her hand smoothing over the fabric of his jacket. Sawyer closed his own eyes, the better to savor the moment of closeness before he had to let her go.

Because he had to let her go.

He would let her go because it was best for her.

Even if it killed him in the process.