Pytheios was making every dragon shifter question the validity of the women they believed to be phoenixes, women mated to their kings.
Half an ear tuned to what the eerie orb was saying, Samael made it to Meira’s side in time to see her face drain of color, leaving her as pale as a vampire on a diet. Her hands shook visibly, clenching and unclenching at her sides in an unconscious gesture.
Deliberately, he addressed Gorgon, otherwise he’d give in to his dragon’s insistence and take the woman who was his new queen in his arms, fold her into his wings and let nothing and no one near her. “My king, we need to get both of you to your chamber. Now.”
Maul, standing practically at Meira’s back, pulled his lips back in a silent snarl that had Samael eyeing the hellhound closely. He hadn’t much experience with the beasts, but all rumors said to steer clear. But damned if that mutt was getting in the way of what Samael had to do.
“I’ve got this,” he said.
To Maul’s credit, the dog stopped snarling, cocking his head to study Samael, muscles rippling under his fur.
“What?” Meira visibly forced herself to drag her gaze from the mirrors to him, as though his words to Gorgon had taken a minute to seep into her head. “Shouldn’t we discuss this with my sisters and the other kings? Address our people?”
Did she not hear the growing buzz of doubt and even anger in the voices filling the room? As though a swarm of wasps had been disturbed by a swift kick to their nest.
Samael shot her an impatient look, though careful still to keep his features neutral. “You need to solidify this mating.”
She was shaking, reaction setting in. “But…I need to figure out if I have another sister. We have to get her away from him. We can’t just let her—”
“With what clans behind you?”
He wanted to shake some sense into her. That tender heart would only lead to trouble if she followed it so blindly.
Meira slow blinked at him, then slid her gaze around the room, landing finally on the man she had pledged her life to not minutes before. As she did, those ice-blue eyes of hers darkened to a color almost navy. Every emotion showed in those mercurial eyes, the color changing like seasons in the mountains with each thought.
Fisting his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out to…what? Comfort her? Convince her? Not his job. Samael forced his gaze to his king.
Gorgon already held one of her hands. With a small tug, he pulled her attention to him. “Samael is right. My clan trusts me. They’ll trust you more if you are my queen in every way.”
Maul let loose a low rumble of warning.
Rather than answer, Meira laid a tentative hand on the hound’s bristly, furred shoulder. She didn’t say anything, but the giant dog settled, his glowing eyes appearing to dim. Then she glanced over Gorgon’s shoulder to where Kasia and Skylar stood talking with their own mates. Almost as though they felt her gaze, both women turned their heads. Skylar even started forward a step but stopped when Meira shook her head.
“My place is with you,” she said to Gorgon, though the words came out unsteady.
“Stay with the queen,” Gorgon instructed Samael.
Jerking his chin at Ladon and Brand, Gorgon stepped into the small chamber to the side, closing the door behind the allied kings.
“What’s he doing?” she asked. “I thought time was—”
Touching her was out, but somehow his feet stepped him closer to her just the same. To keep her safe, that’s all, he tried to reason. “He’s assuring his allies of what he’s doing before you disappear.”
Could a woman of her tall grace manage to appear any smaller? “Oh,” she murmured.
A few seconds later, Brand and Ladon appeared, moving to their mates’ sides. Several seconds after, Gorgon emerged and walked directly to Meira. “Let’s go.”
She turned to her sisters again. “I have to go.” Meira mouthed the words. “I love you.”
After receiving reluctant nods, she turned to face Gorgon and Samael, though she paused and cast a quick look into the crowd. No doubt at Angelika. Did her eyes darken more?
Samael didn’t give a shit. The buzz of voices was growing louder with each passing second. How was he going to keep his king and queen safe if the room erupted?
Meira suddenly inhaled a sharp breath and seemed to steady. “We’ll never get out of this room easily.” She unconsciously echoed his own concern.
He glanced at the now-passive mirrors. “I have an idea,” he said.
Without waiting to see if they followed, he hurried to the nearest mirror and waved at it, looking to Meira expectantly.
After a small pause, she stepped forward. With a mere thought, flames feathered over her entire body, reminding Samael of coal burning on low. Her flames were still red and gold, normal everyday fire. In theory, if she was like her sisters, as soon as the mating bond snapped into place, those flames would turn black, the color of her new family.
She touched a tentative hand to the mirror and almost seemed relieved when it changed. “Go ahead.”
Both Samael and Gorgon stepped over the gilded frame of the mirror and through the reflective surface. The sensation of being dragged against, a force flattening his face and pressing against him, surrounded him and flowed with him. He’d expected it to be cold, or silent and blinding, the way teleporting when Skylar used her version of that power to send them far distances had been. But this was more immediate. Like stepping through water, or something thicker.
One second, he was in the throne room with the dissonance of voices. The next instant, they stood in the human-size hall just down from Gorgon’s suite. Though they had to climb down from the small table the receiving mirror sat over, the voices from the throne room shut off as Meira followed and doused her flames, leaving them in blessed silence.
“Don’t let anyone near the door until you have new orders,” Gorgon commanded.
Samael pretended not to notice the way Meira had paused and stared at him closely for a heartbeat, tugging against the king’s hold before following Gorgon. Then the king led his mate inside, the lock clunking as he engaged it across the thick wood door.
Samael spun, standing to post, his back to the stone wall. Closing his eyes, he rammed the back of his head against the rock. Once. Twice.
“She’s doing what she must,” he muttered to himself. “Now do your duty, soldier.”
Shoving every emotion as deep as he could, as far away from himself as he could, he straightened, senses tuned to the tunnels rather than anywhere in the suite, and prayed to every god he’d ever heard of—even the minor ones he only sort of remembered from childhood—that he didn’t have to hear the mating.