So this was why they’d ignored his grumbling and his tantrums when he’d protested against them calling for a damn Claiming; all along, he’d had a choice. They’d simply wanted a Queen so that the females may have their rulers, their Alphas - Kings didn’t rule women as well as they might - but they couldn’t have cared less about whom he chose to share his den with. He could have her. He could have his Rider. Alexandria was to be a Vasili, regardless of the results of a stupid tournament.

The world didn’t seem to care about the fact that his life had just changed, or started to make sense; it carried on. There still was an entire undefended entrance to his Kingdom, and evil plans at work.

Before he could bring himself to return to these matters, he dropped his head to his mate’s ear and informed her, “I’ll marry you before the year is out.”

He wouldn’t do it in the middle of the Claiming - he could see how it would be bad form - but he’d be damned if he waited longer.

“Was there some sort of a question there?”

No. There was no question.

“Do you want a big or a small celebration?”

She chuckled against his chest.

“We don’t know each other. I don’t know why it’s happened - why I’ve been fixed on you from the very first time I saw you, in those dirty rags, but I knew then what I know now. You’re mine.”

He’d noticed that his advisors had stopped talking, done pretending that they weren’t paying attention to his whispered words.

“And you’re mine,” Xandrie repeated, holding on tighter to his hand. “So, yes, I’ll marry you before the year is out. And I’ll also win this Kingdom of yours, if I can.”

* * *

The King’s kitchens did not do things by halves. The spread laid out on the forest floor included game pies, roasted venison. Rhey dug through the kitchen hampers and handed Xandrie a small, ornate box. “From Chef.”

Xandrie lifted the lid to find a nest of dark chocolate bon-bons. She’d told Chef they were the meltiest magic she’d ever tasted, but it never crossed her mind he’d do anything as sweet as sending her a private stash when she was out with the hunt. All eyes were on her. “Nope. Not going to share,” she said and popped one in her mouth.

“Just a little?”

Rhey’s eyes, so cold sometimes, apparently could turn to molten skies and hypnotize her when he wanted something.

“I’ll remember this weapon of yours,” she grumbled, reluctantly handing him a sweet.

The laughter ricocheted off the tree trunks and filled the forest, but Xandrie was suddenly on alert. It wasn’t much – just a rustling of leaves in the general direction of the King – but her rune burned her hand and she felt something rise in protest inside her. She drew Laria from its sheath, and readied herself. Her tiger’s ruff stood on end, his growls only audible to her. Something approached, she was sure of it. But just in case she was being a weirdo, she kept her mouth shut.

Without warning, a dragon – if indeed that’s what it was – towered over the King, gnashing and frothing. Something wasn’t right: its scales were tarnished, its eyes bloodshot, and its tail foreshortened into a spiked club.

The vile creature reared up, its slobbering jaws wide.

Xandrie launched herself high over the guards, who scrambled for their weapons, hands greasy and mouths full, and plunged her knife into the beast’s chest. The dragon thrashed and roared, claws grasping at his assailant, who yanked her knife from its bloody home and eased it under his bib, then into his trachea.

The dragon slumped and sighed, all fight drained from his frame. An evil stench filled the clearing, as the dying dragon’s blood flowed from the gash Xandrie had made across his throat.

Rhey was at her side, rebuking her and thanking her and checking her for wounds.

“The Ferals are evolving, perhaps even experimenting with new forms,” said Vincent. “I’ve not seen the like, before.”

Strange Ferals roaming their lands only added to their uneasiness.

By nightfall, they’d reached the guard post of Norda, a tall, dark tower that didn’t look like it had been built by those who’d created the Golden City. It was higher than any building in Telenar, and the curves and figures sculpted on the walls couldn’t have been anymore different.

“This is Elf-made,” Nathos said, answering to her creased brows. “Long ago, we had an understanding with the Elves of Aryn. They used to guard this post, and we, their borders past the western falls.”

“What happened?”

No one was guarding Norda now.

“They had their own wars to think of. We have no problem defending our own borders, but without a wall, we can’t do very much.”

He pointed to a tower she could barely make out in the distance, on top of a high peak.

“There’s the Western post, and here,” he said, pointing to the other direction, “is the Eastern one. The Aether shield made the ten miles between these forts practically impenetrable to foul creatures, although some still came through. Lesser ones. Anyone who couldn’t just waltz past had to go through our gate - here. This was feasible, guard-able. But ten miles of land?”

She nodded her understanding. That shield was necessary for their safety.

“And no one can redo it?”

Nathos shook his head, but Vincent, riding close, told her, “Well, you might, some day. With the proper training.”

She turned and grimaced at him, wondering what the hell he might be talking about.

“The wall was made by a Rider and her dragon - Rhey’s mother, if I’m not mistaken. Right, Nathos?”

The Advisor yelled, “How many books did you steal from me?”

“A few. Am I right?”

“Yes,” he relented. “She did. But you may also have read that using that much power did kill the Queen.”

Silence reigned for a time after this, as Xandrie turned that knowledge around her mind. She’d never been very fond of the idea of dying before her time but a lifetime ago, in the dungeons, she didn’t have anything to live for. Now it was different. But still - if she could ensure that the whole kingdom was safe?

“Don’t think of it.”

That came from Demelza. Lifting her head, she found multiple pairs of eyes staring at her, bearing the same expression. No one wanted her to even consider this.

“I’m not- not really. I was just… wondering how the wall may be rebuilt. If it could be done in small parts, perhaps, with enough time, I could…”

They all felt it. The sudden, potent, brutal force that told them all that they had no time.