Page 5 of Dragon Unleashed
My mother winces.
Leo, however, grins back at me. “You have the wrong brother, love,” he says then steps aside and gestures to me.
The woman’s cheeks flush crimson. “Of course, I was merely cleaning the dirt from your tunic.”
“Of course you were.” Leo winks then turns to me. “I’m off to train the next generation of Astronia fighters.” As soon as he’s behind our mother, though, he wiggles his brows at me.
The bastard.
“Very good, darling, see you at dinner,” she tells him. And then with her full attention aimed at me, she asks, “Were you planning on showing up at all?”
The fact that she’s willing to ask me this in front of a stranger shows just how angry she is.
“My apologies. I’d planned to be there, and then something came up. A security issue reported early this morning,” I admit. “I wanted to fly over and check the southern border. Ensure that the horde remains at bay.”
“You have a duty—”
“It’s quite all right, Your Majesty,” the woman interjects. My mother’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t correct her for her interruption.
Honestly, if I weren’t more than happy to miss the ass-chewing, I might have been offended on my mother’s behalf. No one interrupts a queen, or if they do, they haven’t met my mother.
“May I have a few moments with Aries?” the woman boldly asks.
“Of course,” my mother bows her head graciously then leaves me alone with the woman. So she got her way after all.
“Your Highness,” she begins, bowing. When she straightens again, the assessing gleam from earlier is replaced by a coy smile. She inches closer. “My name is Esma Oleander.”
“Lovely to meet you, but I really must—”
“It is truly not a problem that you missed our appointment. In fact, now we have the perfect moment alone to get to know one another better.”
I don’t bother to hide my grimace.
Interrupting my mother is bad enough, but the woman seems hell-bent on not allowing me to speak either. She loops an arm through mine and guides me toward the gardens. “I know how tiring your responsibilities are, and I, for one, am more than grateful you are training with your blade. Proficiency is far more important than punctuality if you ask me.”
I hadn’t, but she continues anyway, “What you need is a wife who can help balance your responsibilities. Someone who will be punctual on your behalf so you may tend to—well—the more physically challenging tasks.” She stops walking and faces me, not bothering to hide the innuendo in her words.
Surrounded by bright blooms, the woman looks as though she might simply blend into the topiary around us. She’s beautiful, there is no question about that. High cheekbones, an angled face, bright eyes—but standing here in her presence, I am lacking the one thing I am desperate for: connection.
“My grandfather’s mother was royalty,” she explains. “So, our children will have that on my side as well. Three, I think, is a good number for a royal offspring.” She grins at me, eyes sparking with interest. “Unless, of course, you’d be interested in more.”
“I appreciate your interest, Madame Oleander, but you are not my mate.”
She waves her hand as though dismissing me. “Let’s be frank with one another, especially if we are to be married.” Her assumptions know no limits, I see. “You and I both know your mother is little more than a figurehead.” I stiffen at that, but she presses on. “The horde will not wait much longer before they storm our borders. You need a wife to secure your place on the throne and to stave off this war. Not to mention heirs. And with my royal heritage and shifter blood, our union will be more than enough.”
“I need a fated mate to ensure the dragon line continues,” I remind her.
“Perhaps not,” she replies with an unconcerned lift of her shoulder. “My kind can fly as well.”
“And what kind is that?” I can sense that she’s a bird of some kind, though she’s not meek enough to be a sparrow shifter, nor is she fierce enough to be a peacock.
“Flamingo,” she tells me as she straightens. “Could you not tell?”
Fucking flamingos.Her bravado makes sense now. Her kind love to flaunt themselves and see no harm in doing so even when that flaunting is done by insulting others. “Of course, it makes sense now,” I reply with a tight smile. “I truly apologize, Madame Oleander. You seem like a kind woman, but you are not my mate, and I am unwilling to settle for less.”
Her expression cools, and if her forwardness weren’t bad enough, in this moment, her pouting reminds me a bit of my mother. “You would risk war for your petty heart?”
My smile turns razor-sharp. “My heart is not your concern. And you’d do well to watch your tone with your future king.”
