Chapter 116 Seraphine
“Not because I don’t want them,” I cut in immediately. “But because their dragons are getting restless. You can feel it too. They’re different territories, different instincts. If we keep them together without structure, they’ll start circling each other.”
Lucian frowned. “You think they’ll fight.”
“I think their dragons will,” I replied. “And they’ll be caught in the middle.”
Silence stretched.
I pushed on.
“There are two storm dragonborn in there. They’re leaving with Valin tonight.”
Lucian nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
“There’s one shadow dragonborn,” I continued. “I want Kael to take her. I’m hoping—” I hesitated. “—that he’s learned something. Or at least that he won’t harm her.”
Dante’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.
“And,” I said quietly, “there’s one death dragonborn.”
That landed heavier.
Lucian exhaled. “That’s… complicated.”
“It is,” I agreed. “Which means we can’t ignore it.”
I glanced back toward the door, feeling the pull of that quiet shadow behind it. Afraid. Contained. Watching everything.
“She doesn’t belong here,” I said. “But she doesn’t belong nowhere either.”
Dante ran a hand through his hair. “And the water dragons?”
I looked straight at Lucian.
“There are two,” I said. “They calm when you’re nearby. They spike when you’re not.”
Lucian stilled.
“…So what are you asking me?”
I tilted my head slightly. “What are you going to do about that?”
Dante’s gaze slid away from me immediately.
That was never a good sign.
Lucian dragged a hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes like he was bracing himself. “Yeah,” he muttered. “There it is.”
My stomach dropped. “Lucian.”
He sighed and straightened, shoulders squaring the way they did when he slipped into king-mode instead of friend-mode.
“Dragon kings,” he said slowly, “can mate more than one female.”
I blinked. Once. Twice.
“How many?” I asked, already regretting it.
“Up to five,” he replied.
The hallway went very quiet.
Dante made a low sound in the back of his throat and turned fully away this time, staring at the opposite wall like it had personally betrayed him.
“That’s… historically,” Lucian added quickly. “Not common practice anymore.”
I crossed my arms. “Define historically.”
Lucian winced. “Ancient times. Population crises. Wars. Extinction-level events. Back when kings were treated more like anchors than partners.”
My dragon stirred, unimpressed.
Tools, she muttered. They used kings like tools.
“And now?” I pressed.
“Now,” Lucian said firmly, “it causes more problems than it solves. Especially if the existing bond is strong.” His voice softened despite himself. “Which mine is.”
That earned him a look from me. Not unkind. Just sharp.
“So what does that mean for them?” I asked. “The women.”
Lucian took a breath, clearly relieved to be back on practical ground.
“It means I take responsibility without claiming them,” he said. “I keep them on my territory. Set them up with their own apartment, somewhere safe and quiet. I get them jobs—real ones, not busywork. I make sure they’re stable.”
“And supervision?” Dante asked quietly, still not looking at us.
“Yes,” Lucian answered. “But not control. I’ll assign one of my men. Dragonborn. Someone patient. Someone who remembers what it’s like to wake up terrified and angry and confused. He’ll check in. Teach them how to ground their dragons. How to exist without spiraling.”
I felt a small knot in my chest loosen.
“They won’t be alone,” I said.
“No,” Lucian agreed. “And they won’t be pressured. Ever.”
Good, my dragon said. Her tone was decisive. Acceptable.
Then she paused.
And added, dry as ash, Of course, if you wished, you could mate them yourself. Or the kings. Or anyone. There is no limit for a High Priestess.
I froze.
Oh no.
That thought slipped straight past my internal filter.
“There’s no limit for a High Priestess,” I repeated aloud before my brain caught up with my mouth.
Silence detonated.
Dante’s head snapped toward me so fast I thought he might sprain something. “There’s what?”
Lucian burst out laughing.
Like, actually laughed.
“Oh,” he said delightedly, eyes bright. “I like her dragon.”
I immediately backpedaled, hands up. “No. No. That’s just... she said that. Not me. I’m not, there will be no mass mating. No king-collecting. No... absolutely not.”
My dragon hummed smugly.
Coward.
“Traitor,” I muttered under my breath.
Dante stared at me, then shook his head slowly. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you become a theological threat.”
“I am exhausted,” I shot back. “And in pain. And possessed by an ancient fire entity with opinions.”
Lucian wiped at his eyes, still grinning. “For the record, it is true. High Priestesses aren’t bound by the same limits. But most choose not to abuse that authority.”
“See?” I said quickly. “Choose not to.”
My dragon scoffed but didn’t argue.
Dante finally turned back toward me, expression softer now, concern bleeding through the humor. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Just… learning how big this world actually is.”
Lucian sobered then. “It’s big,” he agreed. “And ugly in places. But what you’re doing? It’s the right way.”
I glanced back toward the closed door, where the women waited.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Then how do we handle the death dragonborn?”
Both of them went still.
I pushed on before either could dodge it. “Thane’s banished. His territory isn’t just… going to sit there. So when does a new Death King get appointed? How does that even work?”
Lucian’s mouth curved into something dangerously close to a smirk.
“That,” he said, far too casually, “is technically your call.”
I stared at him.
“…Excuse me?”
“The Old Guard is supposed to explain it,” Lucian continued, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “But I imagine they’ll be hovering around for the next few days pretending they aren’t terrified of you while they lay out your options.”
“Options,” I repeated. “Why do I hate that word?”
Dante huffed a quiet laugh. “Because it means responsibility.”
I shot him a look. “Traitor.”
He shrugged, unrepentant, then sobered. “There are a few established paths. It depends on whether a High Priestess is present.”
I blinked. “Which… I am.”
“Yes,” he said gently. “Which changes everything.”
Lucian nodded. “Without a High Priestess, the process is rigid. All remaining kings must unanimously agree on a candidate. No dissent. No abstaining. If even one king says no, the appointment fails.”
“That sounds like a nightmare,” I muttered.
“It is,” Dante agreed. “It’s why some territories have gone leaderless for decades in the past. Politics. Grudges. Power plays.”
“And with a High Priestess?” I asked.
Dante’s gaze held mine, steady and serious now.
“With you present,” he said, “there are several avenues.”
Lucian picked up the thread. “You can appoint a Death King outright.”
My spine straightened. “Just… choose?”
“Yes,” Lucian said. “If your dragon recognizes them as capable of holding the balance of death without corruption.”
My dragon stirred at that, thoughtful.
Dante continued, “You can also call a Trial of Balance. Candidates present themselves, and you test them. Power, restraint, judgment. Survival.”
“That sounds lethal,” I said.
“It can be,” Lucian admitted. “Death territory doesn’t attract gentle souls.”
“Or,” Dante added quietly, “you can delay the appointment.”
I frowned. “Delay?”
“You can name a Warden instead,” he explained. “A temporary ruler. Someone who maintains the territory, enforces laws, but does not hold the crown.”
Lucian nodded. “It buys time. Lets the land settle. Lets you decide without rushing.”
I exhaled slowly, processing.
“And the death dragonborn woman?” I asked. “Where does she fit in all this?”
Lucian’s expression shifted, thoughtful now. “She could be a candidate. Or she could be protected. Death doesn’t always mean ruler.”
My dragon spoke then, low and firm inside me.
Death is not domination. It is transition. Choose someone who understands endings without craving them.
I closed my eyes briefly.
“Of course it’s not simple,” I muttered.
Dante’s hand brushed mine, grounding. “You don’t have to decide tonight.”
Lucian smiled softly. “For once, the world can wait a day or two.”
I looked at both of them, really looked.
“Okay,” I said finally. “Then we start by protecting her. The woman. No trials. No pressure. No destiny speeches.”
Both of them nodded immediately.
“And when the Old Guard comes with their explanations and their rituals and their expectations,” I added, my voice sharpening just a little, “they remember one thing.”
Lucian raised a brow. “Which is?”
I met his gaze evenly.
“Death answers to balance now,” I said. “Not fear.”