Her dragon chimed in. I don't want a true mate. There's too much to do if we win the clan leadership, and a mate would only distract us.
I agree completely.
But that doesn't mean I don't want to kiss him again. Imagine all that intensity. It would be delicious.
Asher's voice interrupted her conversation with her dragon. "Why come back now? Last I heard, you were a rising star back in California."
Her dragon stood tall. He kept track of us.
Hush.
She glanced at the others in the room, but none of them met her eyes. "If you're looking for a weakness to exploit, I'm not going to give it, Ash."
His lips curled in a bittersweet smile. "Few people call me Ash anymore."
One of the male candidates muttered, "Because you're a King, and need to be reminded of it."
Honoria should keep her mouth shut. After all, defending Asher could bring trouble later on. However, the words spilled from her lips before she could stop it. "As if your family is free of treason, Shane. Your older brother was head Protector under Marcus, after all."
Shane Farhall turned his head toward Honoria, hatred in his eyes. "Which is why I'm here, to right things. However, King's family gave the orders. My brother either had to follow them or be imprisoned himself."
Asher's tone was almost bored when he jumped in. "Your brother could've spoken up, like I did." Bitterness filled his next words. "But no, he didn't. Instead, he helped bury dead bodies on our land. Human bodies, no less. He had control of all the security forces on Skyhunter, but didn't do anything to actually protect the clan."
Shane stood, turning toward Asher. "Everyone knows about your uncle being clan leader, but what about your cousin?" He leaned forward and snarled, "While never formally declared, everyone knows he tortured the prisoners."
"I know. I was one of the prisoners, remember? Blood doesn't always equal family, especially under tyranny," Asher stated.
"You could say that and no one would be the wiser. I'm sure you received special treatment, unlike the dozen males who died during their imprisonment."
Asher's pupils flashed to slits and back. "Special treatment? Try being kept in a bright, white room for days on end, music grating and never ceasing. It pushes your dragon to the brink. Not that you'd know it, Shane. You were busy hiding in Wales."
Honoria's dragon spoke up. If we don't do something, they may end up killing each other.
Normally, Honoria would call out her dragon's hyperbole. However, Shane's temper had been infamous even as a child. She didn't doubt he'd risk him and his dragon to get revenge for his brother's life sentence inside a DDA prison. In Shane's mind, killing one member of the King family would make them even.
Her dragon huffed. That sort of thinking belongs to the dragon-shifters of old, not in the twenty-first century.
Reason has nothing to do with it, dragon. Male emotions and revenge have started many a war in the past.
Before she could think of how to intervene, Asher crossed his arms and looked straight ahead of him at the wall. "Save your strength for the trials. If you truly believe you're better than me, then prove it."
She resisted blinking. The older version of Asher was mostly…level-headed. Wise, even.
Her beast purred, I like it. He was okay to kiss as a teenager, but I'm more interested in the grown male.
Studying Asher's profile, she noticed a smattering of scars near his jaw. I wonder if that's from when he was a prisoner.
If so, he's not going to tell us. Males are stubborn.
Right, because female dragons are never stubborn, are they? Honoria drawled.
Her beast sniffed. All dragons are stubborn to some extent. However, males are stubborn for the sake of it. Almost as if they think it makes them more macho or something.
Honoria didn't think Asher would be stubborn for the sake of it. If his scars are a result of torture, then of course he doesn't want to talk about it.
And it hit her—Asher had spent at least five years as a prisoner. True, she'd heard about it. But as she stared at his profile, making out the pattern of scars on his jaw, it became more than words. Those faint white marks were only a fraction of the proof of what he'd endured.
Proof that the male sitting not far from her wasn't the teenage boy she'd snuck out to kiss when she could.