As I watched the draken glide closer, I knew it wasn’t Nektas. It wasn’t as large as him, and the draken didn’t…feel like him. I thought—or perhaps felt—that it was a draken I wasn’t familiar with, which made me think of something. Draken would only attack if the Primal they served was in danger, but instinct told me the rule didn’t necessarily apply to wartime. “What’s the draken situation with the other Courts?”

“Good and bad,” Lailah said. “Which one would you like to hear first?”

“The bad.”

A wry grin appeared. “Kolis has a legion of a dozen,” she said. “Kyn has about ten, as does Embris. The other Courts have five or fewer.”

I frowned. “Those numbers are lower than I expected.”

“The draken go through cycles that last about a century and can only conceive for a few weeks during that time,” Rhain explained, watching the soldiers on the field. “And from what I can gather, many of the draken have taken active steps to prevent conception since Kolis’s reign began.”

A knot of sadness gathered in my chest because I could understand why they wouldn’t want to bring a youngling into the realm under Kolis’s rule. Look at what he had done to Thad—the young draken who had served Kyn—Nektas’s mate, Halayna; Reaver’s parents…and only the gods knew how many others.

Ash’s chin grazed the top of my head. “Ready for the good news?”

“Yes. Please.”

“We have the most.” Ash dragged his thumb along the crease between my thigh and hip. “Fifteen, not including the younglings. And we have Nektas.”

The skin beneath my ear shivered. “Because…he’s the first.”

“Exactly. Most are not like Davon,” Ash confirmed, referencing Nektas’s now-deceased distant relative. “Or the draken who have always served Kolis. If the others come up against Nektas, they will back down.”

That was good news.

But not nearly enough.

We had Attes, and I was confident that Keella would join us. Maia, as well as Phanos and Embris, were up in the air. Kyn would obviously side with the false King. So would Veses. And if either Phanos or Embris stood with him? Or, worse yet, both?

We would be outnumbered.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I agree with what Ash said about keeping the address short and to the point,” Rhain said, referencing the discussion we’d had on the way back from the Valley of Blood. “That would limit the probability of something being said that shouldn’t be.”

My brows pulled together as I glanced over Reaver to where Rhain sat on the antechamber couch. Exactly what did he think I would say that I shouldn’t?

“And it also lessens the risks involved with going before so many people,” he continued, looking down at the bound parchment resting in his lap. Jadis had torn off and almost consumed half the pages before Nektas took the little draken outside to play and work off some of her energy before supper.

With the way my knee was bouncing, it should be me out there working off unspent energy.

Reaver lifted his head from the cushion and placed it on my knee, peering up at me as if he had read my mind. I grinned down at him.

“I also think sharing what you did during our meeting would be wise. That it is your decision and choice for the realms not to be ruled by one individual,” he said, drawing my attention to him. “I know we touched on that on the way back here but telling the people that it was your choice is important.”

I nodded, my mind flipping over our prior discussion. Ash and I had decided that we would first assure the people they were welcome and we were doing everything in our power to provide for them, then move on to the whole Queen and King business. We’d decided to tackle that part together during the speech.

“Will I have to walk the aisle again?” I asked.

Rhain looked at me as if he couldn’t believe that was a concern given everything we were discussing, but it was one long-ass aisle. “Do you not want to do that?”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay.” He scribbled something down. “I will announce you and then Ash. Once that is finished, you two can shadowstep onto the dais.”

“Wait. Why would I be announced first? Where I’m from, it’s always the King.”

“That’s because mortals operate in a very patriarchal society.”

“As if this one is any different?” I retorted.

His lips pursed. “You have a good point there, but in this case, it has nothing to do with gender and everything to do with your Primalhood. You are the true Primal of Life, and even when ruling jointly, your Primalhood asserts supremacy. You will be announced first.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound very equal.” I looked down at Reaver. “Does it?”

He chirped, and gods, it was still bizarre to hear his voice in my head. Even if it was one word, which was no.

“Moving on,” Rhain said, sighing. “You two will then take your seats on the thrones.”

I opened my mouth.

“And because I know you’re going to ask why,” he went on, “it is simply tradition.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

Rhain sent me a bland look.

“Whatever,” I muttered as Reaver huffed out a laugh.

“During this time, the people will have bowed. You will tell them to rise—and yes, it will be you.”

I was so bored with this conversation I didn’t ask why it had to be me. “Ash mentioned having wine provided for them. Will that be possible?”

“Yes.” Rhain checked off what I could only imagine was annoy Sera from his list. “We have many barrels that can be used for such. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough time to have food prepared.”

“What about this?” Aios’s voice floated out from the narrow hall adjoining the chambers. Gods, she had been going through the wardrobe for so long I’d forgotten she was even here. She appeared, holding a crimson gown draped from a hanger. “It’s really gorgeous, isn’t it?”

My gaze flicked over the dress as I idly stroked the top of Reaver’s head. The gown was beautiful, and the crushed velvet looked soft, but for some reason, the color was a turn-off for me. “It is, but it doesn’t feel right.”

Aios lowered her arm until half the gown pooled on the floor. “This is the fourth gown that doesn’t feel right. You don’t have many more options.”

“I know.” I winced, feeling like I was wasting her time. Which I was, especially considering she had spent the better part of the day assisting with the birth Kye had summoned her for. When she offered to help me find something to wear, I should’ve told her to rest, but I was glad she wanted to help after how our conversation had ended this morning.

Aios eyed me for a moment and then nodded. “I think I know what the problem is. I will be right back.”

I watched her spin on her heel and disappear back down the hall.

“I doubt she will be right back,” Rhain commented as Reaver lifted his head and stretched.

“True.” I leaned back. “Why can’t I just wear what I’m wearing now?”

Rhain appeared positively aghast. “You should dress for the role.”

My lips thinned. “And how should I be dressed?”

He gave me the most unsexual once-over I had ever received in my life. “Not like that.”

“What’s wrong with this?” I glanced down at my vest and black leggings. “Ash has no problem with it.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Rhain replied dryly, earning a confused head tilt from Reaver. “But it’s not appropriate.”

Aios reappeared, holding a dark gray tunic with silver embroidering that matched the design on the throne doors. Immediately drawn to it, I rose and went to her, passing the pillared dais.

Rhain sighed for what had to be the hundredth time. “That’s a tunic.”

“Never would’ve guessed that,” I murmured as I took the lightweight garment from Aios.

“You should wear a gown,” Rhain insisted.

My gaze cut to him as a wave of prickly heat swept over the back of my neck. I knew this was in no way the same as my time in Dalos, and none of the gowns Aios had brought out were even remotely transparent, but my skin still felt itchy and too tight. “A gown is not me,” I said as Reaver launched himself off the couch and came to my side. “This,”—I thrust the tunic out—“is me.”