White dragon wings—

—was what Ivy had told him.

Damon was very, very sure that Cecilia Araceli was human.

She had been human for twenty-five years. He knew that for a fact. He had watched her grow up, or at least, he had watched her from a distance.

She had been human when she was eight years old, crowned the Saintess after Ruby went missing. She had been human when she was eighteen, marrying that bastard Tiger Prince, hope in her eyes and disaster in her future.

She had been human for the seventeen years she sat on the holy throne.

Yes, he did not know the details of what had happened to Cecilia after her dethronement. But there was no way in heaven, in hell, in any of the realms between, that a human woman changed species into a dragon.

Right?

But Ivy would not lie. Why would she?

Ivy Cassia was many things, schemer, regicide, unhinged in the most charming possible way, but she was not a liar. Not to him or about something like this. She had seen what she had seen.

If she said white dragon wings unfurled behind Luna Sees, then white dragon wings had unfurled behind Luna Sees.

Which meant—

Cecilia had somehow acquired white dragon wings.

How?

Was it Oathran Alicei, Cecilia’s first husband? But why would Ivy not say it was Oathran Alicei?

She clearly said Luna Sees has white dragon wings. Not the Dragon Lord, Luna Sees’ husband number one.

So either Ivy had been confused... or Cecilia had tricked her.

Well, Cecilia could. But still. Tricking a princess with fake white dragon wings, would that not offend both the princess and the dragons?

The dragons were notoriously proud. The white dragons most of all. Impersonating a divine bloodline was the kind of offense that got people immolated.

Also, Ivy Cassia, if she ever discovered the deception, was precisely the kind of woman who would hold a grudge until the stars burned out.

Not to mention—

Having white dragon wings qualified you to be called Your Majesty. Even if you were not a Dragon Lord yourself. Even if you had no territory, no throne, no formal claim to power.

As long as you stood under the sky, those wings made you a king. Anywhere. Everywhere.

Did Cecilia truly have the right to claim that authority?

Well.

Technically.

After all, she was the Dragon Lord’s mate. But was that not enough? Did she need her own wings when she shared the bed of the being who owned the sky? Was marriage to a divine dragon not, in itself, a form of divinity?

"Initially—"

Ivy’s voice pulled him back from the spiraling abyss of his own thoughts. She was still hanging from his neck and still pressed against him.

"—I did not believe that the Dragon’s Physician was actually a dragon herself."

Her breath ghosted across his collarbone, warm and sweet. "I thought it was simply excellent marketing for her miraculous elixir. You know, branding. ’Dragon’s Physician’ sounds much more impressive than ’Lady Who Is Very Good At Medicine.’"

Her fingers played with the collar of his imperial robe, tracing the golden embroidery with idle, proprietary strokes.

Damon’s breathing slowly became ragged.

"You want to get close to me like this—" His voice now rough, scraping against the words like gravel. "—because you want to get close to a divine dragon...?"

"But..." His hands, traitors both, found her waist. The curve of it. The warmth of it through the thin fabric of her traveling clothes. "What if I am as close to her as you are?"

After all, Damon was half sure, perhaps sixty, seventy percent sure, that this woman was Cecilia’s biological elder sister.

The blonde hair, the bluish eyes. The age. The intelligence. The way Ivy’s and Isla’s features were similar to Cecilia’s in certain lights, certain angles.

If he was right, then Ivy had no idea that the divine dragon she was so eager to get closer to was the same sister she had lost as an infant.

"You escorted her so intimately when I first met her." Ivy’s eyes blinked up at him, wide and spoiled. "So close I thought you had something with her."

Why did she sound jealous now?

Why did the honey in her voice sound even sweeter, even thicker, even more dangerous when laced with that delicious note of possessiveness?

She had no right to be jealous. She was engaged to Magnus Karas. The generous, wise Magnus Karas who would apparently encourage her to climb into another man’s bed if that man happened to be friends with a divine dragon.

"Are you crazy?" Damon spat, "That woman is... Arkai Dawnoro’s... Luna..."

His eyes became blurry at the edges. The perfume. The weight of her arms around his neck. The slow press of her body against his. This formidable seduction was wearing him down like water on stone—

"But did you forget?" Ivy swayed gently, her voice a murmur against his jaw. "You brought me to provoke Arkai Dawnoro for her hand."

Ah.

Yes. He had done that. He had escorted Ivy into the palace garden at his father’s funeral and watched Arkai Dawnoro’s eyes go crimson with barely suppressed territorial fury.

He had been petty and he had wanted to hurt the man who had shared Cecilia with two other men. Cecilia was his sister in spirit, and Damon wanted to protect her. Though, in his infinite maturity, he had been hit by a thick Johnny in return.

"I... he..." His voice now rougher and rougher, scraping against the words like a blade against a whetstone—"It is because I do not like Arkai Dawnoro that much..."

His hands around Ivy’s waist tightened, and Ivy sighed. A delicious sigh of a woman who had just felt a man’s resolve crack beneath her fingertips.

"Why don’t you like Arkai Dawnoro, mm?" Her whisper curled into his ear like smoke. "Don’t make conflict with him and his Luna... be good to her. You should be more like me—" Her lips brushed his jaw, a feather-touch that sent electricity cascading down his spine. "—and offer yourself to be her plaything too."

No. No. Damon, keep yourself together!

"Think about the empire, Damon." She sounded so reasonable, as if she was not suggesting he volunteer himself as a sexual vassal to a divine dragon.

"Ivy—"

"Ssshhh..."

Her lips brushed against his own. Just the barest suggestion of contact, the whisper of skin against skin, the shush delivered directly into his mouth like a secret she was feeding him. Her head shook slowly, sensually.

"Remember your Founder King, Damon..." Her eyes, sharp and captivating, held his. "This is your destiny."

Damon’s brain, which had been doing an admirable job of resisting, paused.

The Founder King?

"Your Founder King, Mauve Iondora..."

Ivy’s voice had shifted into something almost reverent. Her fingers traced idle patterns on the back of his neck, each touch sending another battalion of his resolve into full retreat.

"...was the first human to ever build a human kingdom in this beast world. Without him striking a deal, making a divine vow with the Dragon Lord—" Her breath ghosted across his lips, "—would a human ever have been able to have their own territory and nation?"

Huh.

Wait.

That... that actually made sense.

Mauve Iondora, the Founder King, had stood before the Dragon Lord of his era and forged a covenant that had allowed humanity to carve out a place in a world dominated by beasts.

The empire itself was built on that ancient alliance. The throne Damon currently occupied existed because a human king had been close to a divine dragon.

"You see it now, don’t you?"

Ivy’s smile curved against the corner of his mouth, a crescent of satisfaction.

"If you are close to the Divine Dragon... if you cultivate that relationship, nurture it, serve it—" she emphasized, "—would your name not be comparable, endlessly praised alongside the greatness of Mauve Iondora?"

Her fingers traced down his chest, smoothing the rumpled silk of his imperial robe.

"The Emperor who renewed the ancient covenant. The Emperor who brought the Divine Dragon’s favor back to Iondora. The Emperor who was wise enough to recognize that some connections are worth more than gold, more than armies, more than..." her hand brushed the lower part of his stomach, "...pride."

Well.

Ivy might be wrong about Lady Sees’s true identity. She was operating under the assumption that the veiled physician was herself a divine white dragon, a misunderstanding that Damon could correct.

But—

But since a Divine Dragon, a Dragon Lord himself, was actually involved in this scenario—

Since Oathran Alicei was real and married to the woman Damon considered his sister in spirit—

Since the ancient covenant between Iondora and the dragons did exist, and had shaped the course of human history for centuries—

Then Ivy’s suggestion, while catastrophically misdirected, was actually correct in spirit.

The alliance with the divine dragon was valuable. The relationship did matter. Cultivating it, protecting it, being good to the people who held the dragon’s ear... that was not just sensible policy.

It was destiny, as Ivy had put it.

And Cecilia—

Cecilia was the bridge. The woman who had somehow bound herself to a divine dragon lord, a black wolf king, and a golden lion, and had apparently decided that Damon was her brother in the bargain.

He was already her plaything, he realized. He had been her plaything since she pinched his cheek at his father’s funeral. He just did not have the dignity to admit it.

"You are thinking very hard." Ivy’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, teasing and warm.

"Am I convincing you?"