Page 33 of The Forbidden Dragon King
The guards don’t react. Of course they don’t because these eavesdroppers are the top two commanders in the army. They are also my best friends who spend most of their time lurking around my tent, pretending that they’re not protecting me.
They’ve been my secret bodyguards since I was a teenager.
I have four people who I trust in the entire kingdom, and these are two of them.
Imperial Legate War Varus, a ruby Alpha, and her silver Omega, Tribune Lucius Atticus.
I roll my eyes. “Only if you want to be scratched, Luc.”
Lucius is lean and small; his armor looks like it’s too heavy for him. He wears it, as if he’s dressing up in his older brother’s gear as a joke and will throw it off when he gets bored at any moment. He has silver eyes and honey curls that tumble to his cheekbones.
Lucius is the prettiest Omega in Bael. It was a scandal when he bonded with War, the older, roughest of the military career Alphas.
What the fuckers don’t know is that Lucius is just asdangerous a weapon at court for me, as War is on a battlefield.
He’s a genius.
“He does enjoy being scratched.” The larger woman tightens her arm around the smaller Omega, possessively. “But I don’t share.”
“Keep up.” I stride away from the tent through the bustling camp, which is busy with preparations for the campaign.
There is an excited anticipation in the air.
War manhandles Lucius (in a way that I know he loves), after me down the straight Main Street away from my tent, then through the meticulously planned camp and toward the central Forum. The camp is loud with the sound of marching feet and clanking armor.
Flaming torches on stands line the street.
Soldiers salute as they pass me in neat ranks. I narrow my eyes, inspecting them.
They must be perfect. Nothing must go wrong tonight.
This is the final campaign in the war.
The killing blow.
The fae will never see this ambush coming until it’s too late.
Above me in the starry sky, the largest and fiercest dragons who are most skilled at breathing fire, the Alpha ruby dragons, circle with their Omega riders.
The dragons trail like spilled blood acrossthe milky moon.
“Eavesdropping on your king is treason, you know,” I say without looking around.
“Then execute me,” War replies, gruffly, “but after the battle, yeah? I have some faes to fucking destroy first. If you hurt my Omega, however, then I’llbiteoff your wings, cock, and balls and use them as target practice.”
I smirk.
War is feared by both fae and vampires.
There are legends, songs, and cautionary tales written about her. She’s the winged nightmare that parents tell their children about.
She’s on my side, however, and the trick is to make sure that as many of the nightmares are devoted to you and not your enemies.
Finally, I glance over my shoulder. “I’m pretty certain that threatening your King is also treason.”
War is stony faced.
She’s a foot taller than the man who is currently nuzzling her neck, as if he’s sprawled on a bed and not being dragged through an army camp hours before a campaign.
