Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Back at the Dragon Council - The Arctic Circle of Sweden

Erwan looked around him. Every man in the Dragon Council camp seemed to have come out of their tents for this confrontation, and they all stood and watched what was unfolding. If he gave an inch to his father and uncle now, he’d lose their respect forever. He had to claim what and who he was, even if he didn’t want to, even if the yoke of that identity was a heavy burden on his soul. He had no choice. This was his destiny.

He straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath. “I am King Erwan Doyle, king of the True Doyle clan, established after my father and uncle used dark magic to kill my grandfather and others. They have also tried to have me and my brothers killed, tortured the granddaughter of Seamus the Librarian, and we have evidence of more crimes. The Code grants me the legal and moral right to lead the True Doyle clan, and I have honor and truth on my side.”

Cladhaire stretched his right hand toward Erwan, but before he’d finished the movement, Rhene had shifted and stood in front of Erwan in his mighty wolf form. He let out a menacing growl, and Cladhaire staggered back. The gasps around them were satisfying. Wasn’t it interesting how these mighty dragons were still impressed by a wolf? Then again, Rhene was no ordinary wolf, and maybe they picked up on that.

“My mate is Rhene Hightower, pack alpha of the Hightower pack and brother-in-law to Lidon Hayes, the True Alpha of his generation. And I?” He took a deep breath. “I am the White Dragon.”

He shifted more fluidly than he ever had and stood before them in all his glory.

Fuck Cladhaire.

Fuck Baoth.

Hell, fuck them all. He was the White Dragon.

A chorus of gasps rose around him as he took a stand, his mate in wolf form by his side. What would the Dragon Council do now? Or, more importantly, how would Cladhaire and Baoth react?

“He truly is the White Dragon,” Gregor, the commander of the Fitzgeralds, whispered. “I never thought I’d see one in my lifetime.” He turned to the younger guy who’d been sitting next to him. “Get King Fergal. Now.”

“This doesn’t change anything.” Cladhaire had found his voice again, though he sounded a hell of a lot less confident than he had before. Or was that Erwan’s imagination? Maybe the difference was that he no longer cared what the man who had sired him thought, especially of him. He’d tried to kill Erwan. That negated any obligation Erwan had as his son.

“I hate to disagree, King Cladhaire, but it does. It changes everything,” Gregor said.

“He doesn’t have his supposed clan here. Without them, he’s nothing. He can’t hurt us!” Baoth snapped.

“Maybe not now, but I wouldn’t dare go against the White Dragon. The Code is crystal clear on that. But we’ll leave that for the Council to decide.”

Erwan and Rhene stood as men came running from every single tent pitched. Old, young, half-dressed, some still zipping up their pants. Within two minutes, a crowd had gathered around them, among them some familiar faces. King Ennis stood, looking old and frail, his adviser, Tynan, holding his arm. And, of course, the others of the Murphy clan, anger burning in their eyes: Alistair, Dempsey, Kerry, Colin, and even Hubert. How nice of them all to show up.

But most of the crowd was unfamiliar to him. They had to be the representatives of the Fitzgerald and O’Connor clans. He could only hope and pray they were on his side. They were flying blind here.

“He should be removed,” Cladhaire said to no one in particular. “He has no legal right to be here.”

“He’s challenging your right to the throne,” Gregor said calmly.

“Without any proof whatsoever. Why are you even allowing him to spew that nonsense? He is trying to usurp my throne.”

“I have to agree with King Cladhaire,” Kerry said. “I see no reason we should allow him to challenge his father.”

“He has papers,” the guy next to Gregor said. Geez, Erwan wished they would all wear name tags. It would make it so much easier for him. He had no idea who these men were.

Cladhaire shrugged. “Anyone can falsify papers.”

“He’s right,” Dempsey agreed. “Papers mean nothing.”

Even though Erwan had known the Murphys would turn against him, it still stung to be dismissed so easily.

“They do when they’re signed by the granddaughter of Seamus the Librarian.” The man who had spoken was still slightly out of breath from running toward them. He was young, around Erwan’s age, with long, raven-black hair tied into a messy bun, a close-cropped beard, and sharp brown eyes. He radiated authority, so he had to be someone important, but who?

The man held up the papers Emma had created. “These look a little too official to be so easily dismissed.”

“King Fergal,” Dempsey said in his annoyingly patronizing tone, “no offense, but you hardly have the experience to determine fraud.”

King Fergal. He had to be the leader of either the Fitzgeralds or the O’Connors, then. Wow, he was young for that position.

Only the slightest tightening of King Fergal’s jaw betrayed his emotions. “I assure you my age and experience have nothing to do with this. The papers are fixed with the official sign of Emma the Librarian, and considering her heritage, I’m loath to accuse her of fraud.”

“You would take the word of a woman, an omega, over that of a king?” Dempsey challenged him.

King Fergal shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s the word of one king against another, but these papers do add credence to King Erwan’s claim.”

Baoth took a step forward. “Do not refer to him as king. He is a fraud, an impostor who wants to steal the throne.”

“I strongly advise you to keep your distance, Prince Baoth.” Gregor’s tone had turned icy, his whole posture tense.

Baoth jammed a finger in King Fergal’s face. “You need to shut up and sit down.”

Gregor moved so fast that Baoth was on the ground in two seconds flat, the point of a sharp sword pressed against his throat. “Do not threaten the king of the Fitzgeralds.”

Mystery solved. King Fergal was the ruler of the Fitzgeralds.

The man in question waved his hand. “Let him up, Gregor. I’m sure he meant no harm, and his emotions got the best of him.”

It was a good thing Erwan and Rhene were still in their shifted form because, as humans, they wouldn’t have been able to hold back a snort at that perfect insult. Erwan knew nothing about King Fergal, but so far, he liked him.

Gregor stepped back, putting his sword back into its sheath. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Baoth scrambled inelegantly to his feet, his face tomato red. But this time, the warning had come across, and he was quiet as he took position next to Cladhaire again.

“Let’s not argue among ourselves,” Kerry said placatingly. “We’ve always held the unity of the Council sacred. Let us not change from that honorable course now.”

Honorable? The man wouldn’t know honorable if it bit him in the ass.

“I wouldn’t presume to disrupt our unity,” King Fergal said just as smoothly. “So, how do you suggest we handle this matter?”

The leaders of the Murphys exchanged a look, but Erwan was more interested in King Ennis, who hadn’t stopped staring at him. The man looked shaken, distressed, but why? From what Erwan had gleaned, the king wasn’t running his clan himself anymore but left that to his leaders. Fallon had stressed multiple times how he suspected the king knew what was going on but chose not to interfere, which didn’t earn him any points with Erwan.

“Why don’t we bring it to a vote among the original four clans?” Kerry suggested. “A simple majority rule.”

Erwan’s heart sank. They were done for. Unless, by some miracle, the O’Connors and Fitzgeralds would support him, they’d be kicked out before they even had a chance to speak. But what else could they have done? His biggest trump card had been to show them he was the White Dragon. He’d reasoned that once they saw him in his true form, they wouldn’t dare go against him. Apparently, he’d been wrong.

“A majority?” King Fergal raised an eyebrow. “According to the Code, only one clan has to support the claim. Why are we deviating from that now?”

Kerry clenched his teeth. “This matter seemed too important to decide based on the opinion of just one clan.”

“Considering the fact that the Code provides us with a specific procedure for how to deal with claims like this, which states the support of one clan sufficient to investigate the claim on its merits, I’d argue our forefathers disagreed with you.”

Erwan wanted to kiss the guy. He had no clue why King Fergal was on their side, but for some reason, he was. Maybe he had his own agenda that wasn’t anything less sinister than that of the Murphys, but if that meant they got to stay for the rest of the Dragon Council, Erwan would take it.

“He’s right.” The voice had been so soft it took everyone a few seconds to realize who had spoken. King Ennis stepped forward, straightening his shoulders. “The young king is right. We have no reason to deviate from the regulations laid out in the Code in this case. We will take it to a vote, and if one clan supports the claim, we will judge it by its merits.”

Holy shit. What had gotten into the old man? This whole situation was becoming more and more intriguing, not to mention complicated, with things at play that Erwan had no understanding of. Why was King Ennis speaking up all of a sudden, going against his advisers? And judging by the pure fury on the faces of the other Murphys, this was highly exceptional. And unwanted. The king had better be careful, or he’d find himself with a knife in his back.

King Fergal dipped his head at the man who had to be four times his age, if not more. “Thank you, King Ennis. I’m glad I’m not the only one who wishes to uphold our most sacred Code.”

“As it is our turn this time to chair the Council, I now call this to a vote,” Gregor said. “All four clans are represented, so we have met our quorum. In the matter of the claim from Erwan Doyle, eldest son of King Cladhaire Doyle of the Doyle clan, that his father has no rights to the throne, who will speak up for him?”

“The Murphys vote no,” Kerry said before Gregor finished his last syllable. Had he been afraid his king would intervene again?

“Obviously, the Doyles vote no,” Cladhaire said with barely veiled anger. Why he was allowed to vote on a matter that concerned him was beyond Erwan, but not something he could challenge now.

“The O’Connors abstain,” a tall, red-haired giant said after a quick look at an older guy, presumably his king. What a cowardly position to take, voting neither for nor against. No matter the outcome, they could claim they’d had no part in it, but at what moral cost?

So now it came down to the Fitzgeralds. Would King Fergal prove to be a true ally? He didn’t make them wait long.

“The Fitzgeralds choose to support this claim and want to see it investigated on its merits. To show hospitality to King Erwan and his consort, we invite them into our camp and place them under my protection. I’d remind everyone present that an attack on anyone in our camp is an attack on me as king and on my clan. We would not take such a matter lightly.”

Wow. He was going above and beyond, putting his neck out for them.

“The Council has ruled,” Gregor said. “We will adjourn until the morning, when we will commence our scheduled proceedings.”

Despite mumblings, no one spoke up.

“Come with me,” King Fergal said to Erwan, which left him with a conundrum. Did he shift back now, which would leave him standing naked in front of everyone? Or did he try to maneuver through the crowded camp in his massive dragon form?

“Gregor,” King Fergal said. “Please assure King Erwan and his consort have privacy to shift back.”

With a flick of his hand, Gregor pulled up a screen around them. Damn, that was pretty handy. Erwan shifted back at the same time as Rhene, and they stared at each other. What had they gotten themselves into? At least their bags were still at their feet, so they grabbed pants and shirts. The second they were dressed, the screen disappeared.

Without saying a word, King Fergal walked away. They followed him, with Gregor on their heels, as well as two other men who looked murderous. Clearly not supportive of what King Fergal had done. If they were members of his clan, he’d better watch his back.

The Fitzgerald block occupied the southeast corner of the camp, and the king’s dwelling was easy to recognize by the banner flying from the highest pole. The plush rugs on the floor were a dead giveaway too, as was the luxurious furniture, which boasted a massive king-size bed covered with the thickest comforter Erwan had ever seen.

King Fergal pointed at two chairs, and Erwan and Rhene sat. Rhene inhaled sharply as if he wanted to say something, but a hand gesture from the king had him swallowing it back.

“I don’t need your services for the rest of the night,” King Fergal said, downright haughty toward the two men who had followed them. They bowed, their lips puckered as if they’d swallowed vinegar. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The two men walked out, but Gregor stayed, and since the king made no protest, Erwan assumed Gregor could be trusted.

“Wait,” the king said to Erwan and Rhene as Gregor walked around the tent, mumbling. After about two minutes, he stopped and nodded.

“We’re all good.”

The king’s demeanor changed, his shoulders sagging and his face showing the emotions he had hidden. “Lord almighty, that was intense.”

Gregor sent him a tight smile. “You did good.”

“Thank you.” He beamed.

“King Fergal,” Rhene said.

“Oh, please, call me Fergal. No need for all the formality when we’re in my tent. Gregor protected it against listening ears. That includes my two other advisers. They’re named Duncan and Donovan, but I call them Dick and Dicker ‘cause they’re both assholes.”

Erwan couldn’t hold back a snort, but Gregor sighed. “One of these days, you’re gonna say it to their faces.”

Fergal shrugged, a stark contrast to the pompous formality he’d displayed earlier. He’d been playing a role. “And the problem with that would be what exactly? It’s not like they don’t know I can’t stand them.”

“Why not fire them?” Rhene asked.

Erwan smiled. His mate always went for the direct solution.

“Keep your enemies closer and all that crap. Or so Gregor tells me.”

Erwan liked the guy more every minute.

“Thank you so much for speaking up for us,” Rhene said. “We weren’t expecting an ally.”

“Well, we weren’t expecting a revolution, so that makes us even. What the hell is going on in your clan, Erwan?”

Erwan and Rhene exchanged a look. “How much time do you have?”

Fergal leaned back in his chair. “We have all night, so why don’t you start at the beginning?”