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  Dargon’s slender tail lashed with sudden agitation. “Will your family oppose Zeus officially joining with Alpha and me? We did not get off on the right foot, but he is our Marked and we cannot be separated.”

  Mestor barely withheld a snort. No, stealing Zeus and making rude gestures at Azaes had not immediately endeared the Dar Massaga to him or Azaes. But it was obvious that Zeus adored his mates, even if it seemed rather sudden. Then again, Zeus was like Azaes, not one to be unsure of what he wanted. Once he decided, he was all in. Just like when Azaes decided he would marry Ariafella. He was fifteen and had spent summers being disagreeable toward her. Zeus was her best friend and she only tolerated Azaes for Zeus’s sake. Azaes spent summers wooing Ariafella, and she did not make it easy for him.

  “Have no worries, Dargon. All we want is Zeus’s happiness. It is obvious you and Alpha are the light of his eye. Though if you prove to be a skink, I will personally beat you with your own tail.”

  Dargon’s grin was full of sharp teeth and humor. “I do not know what a skink is, but I am sure I am not it.”

  Zeus walked to Dargon’s side, reaching up and stroking Alpha who sat at the base of Dargon’s throat. Alpha’s smooth green skin had pink striations that Zeus said were veins. “Why are you talking about skinks? They are pretenders, beings who attempt to make people believe they are something they are not.”

  “I am starving,” Azaes announced, grabbing Mestor by the arm and leading him to the table.

  He glanced back and shivered slightly to see Sohm’lan’s brilliant blue eyes watching him as he followed Azaes to the table.

  “You two are filling my quarters with your pheromones,” Azaes groused in Mestor’s earhole before sitting at the head of the table.

  Mestor tapped a bar under the lip of the table and his chair, concealed in the floor, unfolded to hover before him. Sohm’lan took the seat next to his, his palm resting on the small of Mestor’s back. He grinned up at Sohm’lan, completely ignoring his twin’s playful glower.

  “I think it is cute and extremely romantic,” Zeus replied, sitting across from them, Dargon at his side. “I am so glad I will not be the only one who Meme will descale for not announcing my amor before claiming him.”

  Azaes whistled out a laugh. “I will be the only youngling not in trouble with Meme and Father.”

  Mestor dragged his gaze away from Sohm’lan to glower at his brothers. “They sort of know.”

  Zeus’s laugh was wicked. “Sort of.”

  “I did tell her that I would be courting Sohm,” he defended.

  “You are still in the same boat I am. You were supposed to present Sohm before turning up gleaming like a gemstone.” Zeus placed a variety of food on Dargon’s plate.

  “I could not let him walk around here unclaimed for the next couple of weeks,” Sohm’lan groused. He seemed to take his cue from Zeus and placed an herb-encrusted fish on Mestor’s plate.

  While Zeus and Sohm’lan selected morsels, Mestor watched Dargon nuzzle the top of Zeus’s head. He liked how Zeus now plaited his hair to a long tail that fell down the middle of his back. Next to his ears were two thick sidelocks that were twisted with delicate wire and a multitude of colored stones and semi-precious gems. Dargon seemed to love the style, and Mestor often caught him touching them, like now, as if enamored with the adornments.

  “You look as if you are contemplating something,” Azaes murmured in between bites.

  Sohm’lan looked to where Mestor was staring, his smirk was immediate. “He is probably thinking about how much he wants hair like Zeus.”

  He looked to Sohm’lan, making his eyes wide in supplication. Surely he would not—

  Dargon perked up. “Zeus has glorious hair. I have never seen another with this shade.”

  Sohm’lan’s grin only widened when Mestor subtly elbowed him in warning. “Azaes and Mestor were completely enamored with this little soft-skinned youngling that we plucked out of space. The ship appeared directly in front of two of our starships as if Poseidon had placed it there himself for us to find.”

  Mestor remembered that day so clearly. When the nannies told them that Meme was coming for them, he and Azaes had hurried to dress, hissing every time the nannies attempted to help them. They had all been mourning Canry’s disappearance, but Meme most of all. He had overheard many talking about how she was fading. How they did not think she would live to another turn of the seasons. Then Zeus came into their lives, changing everything.

  “They thought Zeus was the prettiest thing they had ever seen and adored him immediately,” Sohm’lan continued. Zeus’s skin flushed pink with embarrassment. He thought Sohm’lan was regaling the tale rather dramatically, but Dargon’s teardrop-shaped ears had pivoted in Sohm’lan’s direction, giving Sohm’lan his full attention. “When the twins were seven, Mestor decided he wanted hair like his little brother.”

  Mestor smiled at the memory Sohm’lan’s story evoked. Little Zeus had the blackest hair with blue streaks, and it stood out from his scalp in a spiky mess. Meme chastised him whenever she caught him petting Zeus. He loved his scales, but he also wanted head fur like his little brother. They often went to the market with Sohm’lan, and while there one afternoon he spied a booth where a hunter sold pelts of desert rats. The fur was slightly long and as dark as the black sands, which he thought was perfect since it was close to Zeus’s shade. He begged Sohm’lan to buy him and Azaes several pelts, and though Sohm’lan stared at him warily, he had purchased a set for them.

  Once they had returned to the palace, Mestor ran through the hallway clutching the treasures to his chest. Back in their shared room, Azaes sat patiently while Mestor took the measurements of his head, made a pattern, and then carefully cut the pelts. At the time, Azaes had not been aware of his brilliant plan. It took some quick talking to convince his twin to let him paste the pelt to his head, then he had Azaes do the same to him. He had loved his pelt. He had opened the wardrobe, stepped in front of the interior mirror, and stared. The edges of the pelt were a little rough, and it completely covered the red ridge on the crown of his head, but Mestor had not cared. The black was just as deep as his scales. Hiding from the adults, he had spent the afternoon running his fingers through the hair. Azaes’ skepticism had vanished. He liked the pelt well enough but quickly became bored watching Mestor play with his.

  Later that evening, a rare state dinner was being held to greet a new ambassador from a neighboring coalition. Mestor, Azaes, Shaneva, and even little Zeus attended. Mestor wanted their new pelt to be a surprise so he locked the nannies in their rooms which gave him and Azaes time to dress themselves. Before leaving the room, they covered their heads with their cloak hoods. The Basilisc who arrived to escort them to the banquet hall were dressed in red steel armor with gold trim. When they realized the nannies were locked away and had not dressed them, Mestor had quickly thrown his cloak over his shoulders, leaving the hood in place, to prove they were properly attired in formalwear. The nannies, fully disgusted with them, had left without double checking, which was exactly what Mestor had hoped for.

  With every step that took him closer to the banquet hall, his excitement grew until he was practically vibrating by the time he finally he stood at the entrance. Every noble house was present with at least one family in attendance. Mestor had overheard the nannies talk about how many of the houses had four to five families who had arrived. The new ambassador brought new opportunities for trade, and the houses were poised to impress the newcomers.

  The murmurs turned into a loud cacophony when the guards pushed open the doors. From what he could see, most of the seats were filled. The Basilisc first announced Shaneva and she entered the hall to a chorus of awws. Normally, young who were still in the nursery were not clothed, but for this event both she and Zeus had been dressed in light robes of Vondorian colors. Mestor took one of Zeus’s little hands while Azaes grasped the other. At two, Zeus tottled well but his chubby legs only went so fast. Mestor and Azaes kept pace with h
im as they crossed the hall to the royal table at the far end of the room. They did not get as many adoring comments as Shaneva, but Mestor was sure that as soon as he revealed his new hair the houses would be stunned.

  Halfway across the room, he caught Azaes’ eye and together they threw off their hoods, revealing their beautiful pelts almost the same shade as Zeus’s. The room went instantly quiet. Mestor beamed at Azaes. He could tell people loved their new look. He even ran his fingers through the strands making then stand up. As he glanced around, he was gratified to see wide-eyed stares. The other young in attendance had covetous expressions. When he looked at his father, Valdor’s cup was in the air halfway to his lips, his mouth wide open. His meme beamed, clapping her hands. Mestor could not help but pose for her.

  “Valdor was so astonished, he froze,” Sohm’lan was saying.

  Azaes and Zeus were laughing so hard they leaked tears. Dargon’s expression was much like their father’s had been, which caused Mestor to grin.

  “You glued rat pelts to your heads?” Dargon asked incredulously.

  Zeus’s laugh turned into a howl. When he finally got himself under control, he wiped his cheeks. “I wish I could have seen their faces. When the nannies attempted to remove the pelts, you two glued the nannies together and then hid.”

  “I think that was my favorite summer,” Azaes said, trying to sit straight and not quite managing. “All the younglings our age and younger begged their parents for pelts.” He giggled into his cup.

  Sohm’lan snorted. “I am surprised you two were not found out sooner. Those skins stink of sulfur no matter how they are cleaned.”

  “We did not care.” Mestor passed Zeus the seagrass he liked. “We thought we were quite attractive.”

  Zeus snorted his water, then choked laughing.

  “The nannies were dismayed to learn it would take two weeks for the glue to wear away,” Azaes added, crunching into an eel head, his smile just a little wicked. They had been little terrors to the nannies… well, the nannies who were skinks when it came to Zeus.

  “A few noble houses suggested that we be excused from the meal… who was visiting?” Mestor asked, smacking Zeus’s hand when he attempted to steal Mestor’s date bread.

  “We were hosting the Battion Council of Neighn member, Petras, and the new ambassador from the Proxima Heann Coalition. Petras thought the twins were adorable,” Sohm’lan answered, raising a brow ridge when Zeus guffawed into his cupped hand. “She took pictures of them and the life-sized image now hangs on her office wall in Haven.”

  At Azaes’ pained expression, Zeus threw his head back laughing, forgetting the chair was backless. He fell off the seat, his cackling barely halting. Mestor put his utensil down and covered his face as he laughed so hard he lost his breath. Azaes leaned over, offering a hand to Zeus. Their younglinghood had been fantastic.

  The rest of the meal passed pleasantly. Zeus kept touching Dargon and Alpha when he was not choking on his food as he laughed at another story Sohm’lan regaled Dargon with. After the second embarrassing tale, Mestor reached under the table and set his hand on Sohm’lan’s thigh. The intense stare he got in return warmed his blood.

  “When do I take my turn entertaining the Feteine?” Zeus asked, sipping his tea.

  “You have enough to take care of.” Azaes met Zeus’s suspicious stare. “You have a list of repairs and upgrades you want to accomplish before we reach Valespian space. You really do not have the time to spare.”

  “You and Mestor are just as busy,” Zeus argued.

  “You do not need to be around them,” Mestor grumbled, but said nothing more when Azaes pinned him with a look that said he would handle Zeus.

  Zeus’s nostrils flared as if he scented a blood trail. Azaes hurried on, “What he means—”

  “Oh, I know what he means,” Zeus snapped. “I am a grown bull—”

  “I did not say you were a youngling,” Mestor placated. “I personally do not trust them around you until I am assured they mean you no harm. You have been hurt too often on this blasted trip. Azaes, Sohm’lan, and I can take care of the Feteine. You have enough to worry about, as well as a pregnant mate.”

  As Mestor hoped, the mention of Alpha’s condition would derail any argument Zeus devised. Thankfully, Dargon weighed in. “I happen to agree with your brothers. You know how I feel about the Feteine. Though Europa explained her rude actions, they were not very helpful when Atizen kept verbally attacking Alpha, and they made no move to restrain Atizen when he would have physically assaulted you.”

  Zeus got this goofy expression as he stared up at Dargon. “You should not worry. I am perfectly capable of protecting myself. Besides, I have the Monticore.”

  “I would rather you stayed close to the Oethra 7 unless we are with you.” Dargon placed his huge hand over Zeus’s, and Zeus practically melted before Mestor’s eyes.

  “I hope I never look like that,” he murmured, mostly to himself, but Azaes and Sohm’lan heard.

  “Too late,” they said at the same time.

  Mestor scowled.

  Zeus snorted. “You should have seen yourself when Sohm’lan walked into the room.”

  “And phew.” Azaes waved a hand in front of his nose. “The pheromones you immediately released attacked my senses. I thought I would spend the day nose blind.”

  Mestor’s hiss sounded more like a squawk, but when Sohm’lan wrapped an arm around him, he leaned—not melted—into Sohm’lan’s side. “I loved how you looked and how you smelled,” Sohm’lan whispered into his earhole. “I do think I need to renew my scent.”

  Mestor swallowed thickly. Luckily, his quarters were just down the corridor.

  Zeus guffawed and pointed at Mestor. Dargon caught him before he fell off the chair again. “You look almost as lovesick as Azaes does when Ariafella walks into the room.”

  “I have never looked lovesick,” Azaes said incredulously.

  This time Mestor joined Zeus’s laughing, because really, Azaes often tripped when Ariafella smiled at him. One would think that he would be immune to her charm after courting her these last few summers.

  “Brother, you have been mooning over Ariafella since you first saw her. It took you several summers before you realized you did not dislike her but disliked that she was Zeus’s friend and not yours.” Mestor remembered that meeting well.

  Azaes’ expression twisted into a disgruntled mask when he glanced at Zeus. “I was intolerable to her for befriending Zeus for several reasons. I was possessive of Zeus, but you are correct. I was also disappointed she was not my friend as well. I did not realize that until I was older and tried to make up for being a brat.”

  Zeus watched Azaes, his expression open and full of love before another smile spread his lips from cheek to cheek. “Is that why you knocked her into the water fountain? You were making up for your deplorable attitude?”

  “I will never live that down,” Azaes groused. “That was an accident.”

  Dargon did not seem to know how to take Azaes’ statement and was reluctant to ask questions. Mestor chortled into his fist. The Dar Massaga would become accustomed to Mar’Sani culture sooner or later, but he decided to help Dargon out. “Azaes and I started our official training in combat and strategy at fifteen. Zeus begged us to teach him and we could not deny him. So secretly, we instructed Zeus and then Ariafella found out. She is exceptional at martial arts and had started teaching Zeus as well.”

  “Mestor and I had come upon one of her sessions.” Azaes smiled fondly at the memory. “I had this sudden urge to prove to her that I was an excellent warrior.”

  Next to Mestor, Sohm’lan snorted softly. “You had just started training and she had seven summers of experience.”

  “I thought highly of my training.” Mestor sensed Azaes’ embarrassment. “When she dodged or blocked all my moves, I pretended we were finished and when she approached to shake hands, I tripped her with my tail. She tumbled right into the fountain just as our parents and Sohm�
��lan entered the courtyard. Meme really handed me my tail that time. Father put me on latrine duty for six moons.”

  “And she still wants to be committed to you?” Dargon’s incredulity was not quite hidden. “I have only interacted with females of other species, mostly from the military. Dar Massaga females would suck the marrow from the bones of any male who attempted to harm them, accident or not.”

  “He has spent summers working to acquire her favor,” Zeus replied. “As her best friend, she told me all of the things he did in order to make up for his actions.”

  “You never did break her confidence to help me either.” Instead of appearing aggrieved, Azaes smiled fondly at their youngest brother. “I knew better than to get you to put aside your honor. You were always honest with me, saying you would not compromise your friendship or our brotherhood. You have always been a bull of great integrity.”

  Zeus flushed again. “As much as Dargon would love to hear all our younglinghood stories, the Feteine will be here soon. I will stay a short while for the meeting, but I will excuse myself early to tackle the other responsibilities waiting for me.”

  “There is always first-meal tomorrow to tell all the other embarrassing stories.” Azaes’ smile was bright, probably already planning what he would tell Dargon and Alpha later.

  Mestor, on the other hand, was distracted when Sohm’lan rose and crossed to the control panel, contacting the staff to come and retrieve the remnants of first-meal and bring refreshments for the meeting. Azaes went farther into his suite, saying something about maps. Zeus spoke softly to Dargon and petted Alpha. Mestor’s gaze was drawn to the swing of Sohm’lan’s tail. Lust bubbled in his gut and he needed to get himself in hand otherwise he would flood the room with pheromones… again. Rising from the table he hurried to the lavatory.