The Nymph King (Atlantis #3)(73)

"I'm fine." He straightened. He was not fine, and he knew it. He'd gone two days without sex, without self-pleasuring, and weakness was unfurling insidious fingers through him. He was well enough to fight, he hoped; well enough to lead, he knew; but for how long?

His arm injury had increased the speed and intensity of his weakness. Had he managed to get inside Shaye earlier, he would be completely healed. "If the dragons come within a hundred yards of the palace, shoot them down," he said.

Broderick nodded. "Archers," he called. "Prepare."

The men knelt and pulled their bows tight. Waiting. Waiting. Time ticked by slowly. Surprisingly, Joachim stepped onto the parapet and approached Valerian. The man limped and his features were tight with pain, but he managed to stay upright.

"What are you doing?" Valerian demanded.

"Fighting," was the harsh reply. "There is to be a war, is there not?"

"You have yet to recover."

"That does not mean I should remain in bed while my brothers fight."

Valerian searched his cousin's face, seeing determination, the need to make things right. He nodded in approval. "Very well. Take your place in the lines below."

Joachim turned, ready to do as he'd been commanded. Then he paused. "I will not apologize for challenging you," he said stiffly, "but I will tell you that I respect your skill and your leadership."

The words were unexpected and surprising. But more than that, his cousin's tone was unexpected and surprising. He'd spoken with affection, as if they were the inseparable boys they'd once been. "Thank you," Valerian said and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. He assumed a battle stance at the wall, overlooking the clear field that led to the palace. Ever closer the dragons came. Their armor glinted in the day's light. Trees rattled behind them, the ground visibly shaken. Colorful petals floated from flowers.

His hand curled around the hilt of The Skull as Darius, king of the dragons, claimed the lead position. He, too, clutched a sword, a long, menacing blade stained crimson from his many kills. Yes, Darius was a lethal killer, an unfeeling warrior with no conscience that Valerian knew of. A worthy adversary, to be sure.

The dragon soldiers came to an abrupt halt.

"Hold," Valerian told his men. "Hold until I give the signal." To the dragons, he called, "Welcome to my home, fire-breathers. You will understand if I do not invite you inside."

Darius scowled. "You know very well the palace belongs to me."

He tsked under his tongue. "If you wanted to keep it, you should have sent a stronger battalion to guard it."

"What did you do with the dragons inside?"

"I locked them away, of course. They will make powerful bargaining tools."

"I have your word of honor that you did not kill them, then?"

"You have my word of honor that I did not kill all of them."

Darius nodded, the action clipped. "My wife has asked that I not slaughter your entire race for daring to steal what is mine. I will heed her wishes - for now - if you do the two things I require of you."

"And what are those?"

"Release my men and leave the palace."

Valerian laughed. "I'm rather fond of it. I think I'll stay."

"You are inviting war, nymph."

His eyes narrowed, and he gave up all pretense of humor. "As are you, dragon."

"Yes, but you invite the wrath of the gods, for you know not what to do with the surface travelers. Already you have allowed one human male to slip into Atlantis, a human who captured our Jewel of Dunamis."

Valerian shrugged, unconcerned. The jewel was better off in human hands. When an Atlantean owned it, they became all-powerful, undefeatable.

"Do you know what happens when humans learn of Atlantis, Valerian? They tell others of their kind, and soon armies of humans are marching through our land, trying to kill us all."

"I must disagree. None of my humans have been allowed back to the surface, so they are unable to lead anyone here. They are too busy occupying our beds." Several of his men chuckled.

"So other humans have come through?" Darius growled.

"Did I not just say so?"

The dragon king's eyes glinted sharply. "Tell me you slayed them. Or tell me you at least wiped their memory."

"I did no such thing. I told you, we bedded them."

"You truly do curry the wrath of the gods, Valerian."

"The gods have forgotten us. Surely you know that. Now, we are done with this conversation. I find I am bored."

Smoke curled from Darius's nostrils, the first sign he would soon morph into his dragon form. "You wish to pit your army against mine, then, for I will reclaim the palace and I will take charge of the humans you so foolishly hold."

"Try," Valerian said, his jaw clenched, "and I will kill you myself. The portal and everyone who has come through it belong to me. They are mine."

Darius paused, as if he hadn't expected such a forceful response. "Why do you want charge of the portal so badly? You cannot survive on the surface."

He opened his mouth to give a flippant reply but stopped. Why not give the truth? "I do not care about the surface. I care about my people, my home." His voice rose with the ferocity of his conviction. "The nymphs have never possessed a home of their own. Since the dawning of our time, we have traveled from one place to the other, living with one race or another, sleeping in their beds, eating their food. We were good only for pleasuring and warring. Our women deserve a home of their own."