Nyle’s eyes stared directly above him, tracing the swirls and vines of the detailed painting that adorned the dome ceiling. Perhaps it had been the thousandth time in his life that he had sat in that very seat and gazed at the metallic gold artwork, his mind always questioning how an artist had been able to keep such a steady hand while being so high up. Then again, maybe it wasn’t as perfect as it looked, and it only looked flawless because the painting was so high up from where he sat.

“Nylyrias, are you even listening to your father?” his mother, Asalei, called over to him. She had never been the best at masking her frustration, her tone pinched with annoyance.

With his Italian shoes still kicked up onto the Macassar ebony table, he rolled his eyes in the direction of his parents. His father sat at the head of the table, just a few seats down from Nyle.

Nyle raised a platinum white brow. “I thought it was evident that I wasn’t.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Nylyrias. This is serious,” Thalydias scorned, his eyes narrowed at his son.

“How many times have we had this talk?” Nyle retorted.

“Apparently not enough for you to comprehend the gravity of the matter,” Thalydias glared. “Son, you must stop playing these games. Staying out all night in the city, avoiding our calls, missing your appointments with the matchmaker. The fate of our kingdom is in your hands, and you're doing nothing to seal it.”

Nyle’s eyes went back up to the golden swirls on the ceiling as he mused in frustration. He had to keep a level head; the last thing he wanted to do was lash out at his ill father. His parents were making it hard, though, with their constant badgering and treating him as though he was a child. Although, he supposed for their lifespans, he was just a child; his father was one hundred-and-two, and he didn’t look a day over forty. Still, Nyle was twenty-five and didn’t need his parents dictating every move he made—or his future. His fingers drummed against the arm of his chair, his jaw clenching in a repetitive rhythm until he calmed down enough to form words.

“So, because you’re ill, I don’t have the right to meet my soulmate and fall in love?” Nyle questioned as calmly as he could, though his frustration was there.

“I’m not just ill, Nylyrias. I’m dying. You need to understand and accept that because there is no telling when my time will come and when you will have to take over. We cannot wait for you to meet a soulmate that may not come along for decades. You need to secure a union and make our bloodline look strong, my son. We have been going around in these circles for the last year, Nyle. It’s time to stop being a child and be the man I need you to be. Now, quit being selfish and start taking action for your family and your people,” Thalydias preached to him, burning holes into Nyle’s chin with his gaze as his son kept his face turned to the ceiling.

Out of growing irritation, Thalydias stood and slammed his massive hands down on the table, causing a loud bang to echo through the chamber. The loud noise made Nyle nearly fall out of his chair, catching himself with the edge of the table and sitting up straight.

“Do you understand me, Nylyrias?” his father boomed, his intense gold eyes narrowing in on his son.

With his own honey-gold eyes locked on his father’s menacing gaze, Nyle answered, “Perfectly.”

While still holding eye contact, Nyle rose from his seat and straightened the light gray suit jacket he was wearing. “As I recall, part of me acting responsibly for my family is to keep up appearances with the family company. If you excuse me, I’m going to go do just that.”

Nyle pushed in his chair before turning to walk out of the dining room. Really, he just needed an excuse to escape from their badgering.

“Don’t miss your date tonight, Nylyrias. A driver will pick you up at the office at six o’clock,” Thalydias called after his son.

Nyle offered a wave over his head to acknowledge he heard what his father said, but didn’t offer a verbal response. He pushed open the heavy door and quickly closed it behind him, a huff immediately leaving his lips. Never in his life had Nyle been so disrespectful to his father. Growing up, he thought Thalydias was god-like. A being that was all powerful, wise, and immortal. Hell, up until a year ago, Nyle had never spoken against his father or gone against his wishes. It wasn’t until Thalydias fell ill that the image was shattered, and at first, Nyle had bent over backwards to make his father happy and help him in any way he could, but then Thalydias and Asalei started trying to force him into an arranged marriage. It went against the very DNA of their kind. They had soulmates, and to marry anyone short of that… well, it just felt wrong.

He tried to force the thoughts from his mind as he made his way through the palace. Nyle’s eyes caught a glimpse of the elegant off-white swirls that covered his skin when his sleeve fell as he placed a cigarette between his lips. The markings almost looked like faded scars since they were so close to his pale skin color. Sometimes he envied the other Royal Dragons, those whose dragon forms were burgundy or gray. At least their markings looked like tattoos on their human shape. He looked like he got in some sort of freak accident at a wallpaper factory that left him scarred with a print. Refastening his cufflink so that they didn’t show, Nyle then brought his fingers to the tip of his cigarette. With a snap, a single orange flame flickered into existence just long enough to light the cigarette.

His lungs filled with the soothing aromas, smoking an ancient blend of organic herbs his people possessed. The taste had always reminded him earl grey tea, and it smelled like frankincense with a hint of citrus. The herbal cigarettes put traditional tobacco products to shame. They were safe—yet his mother still hated when he smoked them. Asalei despised the musk it gave him.

As he dragged on the cigarette, Nyle made his way through the halls of the palace and out the front door. He flicked his ashes on the steps as his eyes landed on the single black town car parked in the driveway. A driver he recognized stood next to it.

For a moment, Nyle thought about ditching him and driving one of his own cars, yearning to get a taste of freedom for the afternoon, but his father’s words echoed in his head. A driver would be picking him up at the office at six that evening, and he would be in deep shit if he didn’t show up. Letting out a heavy sigh, Nyle walked over to the car, giving the driver a nod before climbing into the back.

His head immediately leaned against the window, watching the tall pine trees go by in a blur as the car made its way down the long and windy driveway. The Flamme estate was in the middle of a forest, forty minutes outside the city. Nyle took a deep inhale of the cigarette, desperate to calm his nerves. The last place he wanted to go was to office. It wasn’t like he did much there.

Nyle was technically the president of the La Flamme Foundation, a non-profit organization created by La Flamme Corporation. In his position as president, Nyle was meant to oversee the corporation’s donations and communication with charitable organizations. Basically, the foundation hosted events and galas as a way to network.

Nyle’s daily work had been handed off to the employees of the foundation—his title was basically honorary and gave him a way to look like a productive member of society. He made an effort to go into the offices once a week to hold up appearances, but he certainly didn’t prefer to spend his time there. It was boring, and he despised having to interact with the humans who were corporately driven and always attempting to impress him. They all seemed soulless, despite the fact his team only handled charity work.

When Nyle first took the job, he figured the people he would be forced to deal with on a semi-regular basis would be decent because they chose to work for a non-profit, but he was wrong. They were all charming, but so insincere they could have been snake oil salesmen.

Nyle busied himself by playing games on his phone while riding in the back of the car and smoking too many herbal cigarettes to kill time. He despised the drive into town, especially when he wasn’t driving himself. Eventually, the car came to a stop outside of La Flamme Corporation’s headquarters.

Trying to wipe the look of dismay from his face, Nyle stepped from the car when the driver opened the door. Before he could take a step, one of his board members came marching outside with an artificial smile plastered on his face. His offices were located on the thirtieth floor, so he had no idea how anybody knew he had arrived. His father must have called ahead.

The man’s name was Ned Colfax, but he was so phony and pretentious that Nyle took solace in calling him by anything but Ned. It amused him to watch the man try and keep his resolve, but still, Ned remained determined to kiss Nyle’s ass. Ned wasn’t a part of the foundation to better the world; he was on the board to climb up the social ladder.

Ned paced over to him, extending a hand to shake. “Mr. Flamme, it’s good to see you this afternoon. So glad you could make it in today.”

Nyle reluctantly extended his hand. Even Ned’s voice grated Nyle. It was so chipper, and there was no way that he actually spoke like that. Why did humans feel compelled to make every person around them like them? It puzzled the hell out of Nyle.

“Nice to see you as well, Ted,” Nyle said flatly, withdrawing his hand as he walked toward the building. “So, what is going on today?” he questioned, wondering if they were planning an event.

“Actually, sir, it’s Ned. But it’s okay; I know you’re a busy man,” Ned grinned, hurrying to keep stride with Nyle.

Hah. Nyle wasn’t a busy man at all, unless avoiding his parents counted as business.

“You’ve actually come on a fantastic day. We just started working with a new organization that wants to clean up polluted rivers. We’re planning a black-tie gala to raise money. We’re actually in a meeting with the event planning company we hired right now. We would be so honored for you to join us.”

Event planners? Why in the hell was there an entire team of employees at his foundation dedicated to throwing fundraisers if they weren’t even going to plan the event themselves? It made the team unnecessary middle men, just so that the company could say they hosted the event.

“Sounds great, Tom,” Nyle called back to him as he stepped into the private elevator off to the side of the lobby.