Once upon a time there was a dragon king who decided the best way to assert dominance was forehead kisses at six-second intervals while his brother, who was arguably one of the smartest dragons in Velkaris, took the bait every single time.
The walk from Maddox's chambers to Kael's was five minutes. Maddox turned those five minutes into psychological warfare that Kael walked into, knowing exactly what was happening, and did it anyway.
The motive was not territory, not strategy, not honor, not the fate of kingdoms.
No, it was much more petty.
It was which emotionally unstable dragon got to carry the princess.
Kael kept stealing glances over his shoulder at the woman unconscious in his brother's arms. Each glance earned him the same thing: Maddox pressing his lips to the top of her head the way a dog pisses on a fire hydrant. Territorial. Public. With full eye contact to make sure the other dog knows what just happened.
Kiss.
