“Mother.” Ari frowned. “You of all people should know better than to ask me that.” He drew me close and put an arm around me. “Kaitlyn is the only one for me and my Drake—we have marked each other and she is my L’lorna. I will never give her up.”
Ari’s mother looked sadder than ever but she nodded.
“I understand, son. But if you force your father’s hand in this, it will cause trouble throughout the kingdom.”
Ari frowned. “Mother, surely you’re exaggerating.”
She shook her head.
“I only wish that I was. There have been murmurs against him ever since he abolished the practice of leaving deformed babes upon the rocks before their seventh day comes. Some say he is trying to dilute the Drake bloodline and I am very sorry to say that you breaking the Edict and bringing home a female with no Drake lineage at all will only add to the discontent in our lands.”
“The Edict is no more,” a voice from the doorway said.
Everyone’s head jerked up and I looked over to see a tall boy about Ari’s age standing just inside the entrance. He had jet black hair and flashing black eyes which seemed to be emphasized by his choice of clothing.
Rather than the formal, flowing robes which everyone else wore here in the Drake palace, he was wearing tight black leather trousers and a black leather vest that left his arms bare. Tall black boots completed the look.
He looked like he was dressed for fighting rather than the niceties of the Drake court, I thought. But rather than his clothing, his bare arms drew my attention the most.
He seemed to have some kind of intricate tattoos running up and down the backs of both arms. In fact they almost looked like dragon scales—black ones with a crimson-red sheen to them. I frowned, wondering if they were to indicate what his Drake looked like. If so, it would have to be most unusual. In all the tapestry portraits I had seen in the long gallery hall, none of the Drakes depicted had black scales.
“The Edict is dead,” he said again, coming into the room. “We all felt the ripple of power when it died. There is nothing now to keep the various breeds of Others from intermingling. Well, as long as they have equipment of the correct configuration,” he added cryptically.
I frowned—what was he talking about? And who was he?
“Hello, cousin,” Ari said evenly, nodding at the new boy. “It’s good to see you again.”
Jalli had a completely different reaction.
“Cousin Saint!” she cried, and ran into his arms.
The dark face, which had been devoid of emotion, suddenly broke into a reluctant grin as he swung her up in his arms and gave her a tight embrace.
“Hello, Jalli—it’s good to see you again,” he said, before setting her carefully down again and making sure she was well-balanced before he drew his hands away. He made a deep bow to Ari’s mother. “Aunt, I hope I may trespass on your hospitality for the night. I promise I’ll be gone early next morning.”
Ari’s mother gave him a tired smile.
“You are always welcome here, Santiago—you know that. I hope everything is well at home?”
“As well as can be expected.” His black eyes flashed red for a moment—a strange and unsettling sight. “My Sire and I had another disagreement and Mother thought it would be best for me to take a little time away from our domain.”
“Another?” Ari’s mother sighed. “Oh, Santiago—what will we ever do with you?”
He shrugged, his black eyes flashing red again.
“That’s a good question. If you find the answer, please let my Sire know.”
“Saint’s father is the younger brother of our Papa,” Jalli explained to me, looking up at her tall cousin with worshipful eyes. “He runs the Western Province.”
“So he does,” Saint muttered, frowning. “With an iron claw.”
“You’re coming at a rather unsettled time, Cousin,” Ari remarked.
“For which I hear we have you to thank,” Saint returned. He bowed to me. “And this must be your lovely L’lorna I hear so many strange reports of from the servants?”
I nodded at him, trying to keep my chin high.
“I’m Kaitlyn. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m pleased to meet you as well,” he replied and flashed me a dark grin. “It’s always nice when someone besides me is causing trouble.”
“They think Saint brings bad luck,” Jalli volunteered, before I could answer. “Just because he’s a Blood Drake. But that isn’t his fault, any more than my foot is my fault!” she added, frowning.
“A Blood Drake?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “What’s that?”
Saint scowled. “It has to do with the coloring of my scales, that’s all.” He nodded at his arms and their black scales with the crimson sheen.
“Oh, yes,” I said nodding. “I see—your tattoo shows it.”
“That’s no tattoo,” Ari said, shaking his head. “Saint just spends so much time in Drake form, he never fully changes back anymore.”