The Warrior King (Inferno Rising) by Owen, Abigail (reading a book txt) 📕

it in a fight with a bully when we were kids, before he ever learned to shift.”

Mama hadn’t told them that. Why that small detail made her father more real, she didn’t know. Meira sat quietly, waiting for more. For anything.

“He laughed a lot.” Tyrek shook his head. “Especially after meeting your mother. For one who took the throne at a young age, and with all the responsibilities he bore, he never let the weight of leadership change who he was. He found amusement in any kind of absurdities—a turn of phrase, a silly story, foibles of life.”

Wonder lit Meira up from the inside, like fairy lights she’d once seen over a summer’s eve pond in a forest. Part of her loved that her father had innate happiness in his life that way. “Did Mama laugh, too?”

Tyrek sobered. “Before she lost him, yes. They made each other laugh, often with just a glance.”

To have that and lose it. Oh Mama. Unconsciously her gaze drifted to Sam. Oh gods.

Tyrek sat forward, covering her hand with his. “I rarely saw Serefina after Zilant died. I thought her dead for almost a hundred years, until she managed to track me down to arrange Skylar’s safety in the event of her own death. How she found me, I’ll never know. After that, she’d show up about once a year to confirm my location.” He grimaced. “I moved a lot. She loved you girls. A mother that fierce, that dedicated, especially after losing her mate…” He shook his head, respect gleaming in serious eyes. “She loved you.”

Meira patted the hand covering hers, his bones sharp and distinct through the thinning skin. “I know.”

She couldn’t say more. The tightness in her throat wouldn’t let her.

A sudden warmth, like snuggling into a comforting blanket, enveloped her, and she didn’t need to look around to see who’d approached.

“Everything okay?” Samael asked in a low voice.

“Fine,” she said.

Samael’s eyes narrowed, turning assessing, but with such a protective edge to it, her irritation with him just sort of fizzled out. Or maybe the walls she was desperately trying to keep erected around her heart were starting to crumble. Which could only lead to disaster.

“We were talking about my parents,” she found herself explaining.

A glance at Tyrek showed her uncle to be watching with no expression, though his curiosity buzzed against her. Samael tucked himself awkwardly onto the picnic bench beside her, opposite her uncle, and put his hands on the table, his pinkie finger close to where her own hand rested, but with an inch of space between them. Like an acknowledgment that he wanted to touch her but knew he couldn’t.

If they had been alone, would his approach have been different? Would he have dared? Would she have let him?

Trying not to focus on his hand beside hers—larger, skin a darker shade, stronger—and how she wanted to tuck hers into his, Meira forced her gaze to Tyrek. “If we’re able to overthrow Pytheios, will you come out of hiding? Come to stay with me or one of my sisters?”

“That’s the plan?” Rune called across the room, voice full of skeptical doubt. “Take out the High King?”

Meira straightened, meeting the black dragon shifter’s stare. “He is not the true High King.” Her words echoed off the tall ceilings. “My father was. When Pytheios is gone, a new king will rise.”

Though only the gods and fates knew which one. Kasia had tried to see, but she claimed that part of the future was murky, like a veil covered it.

The entire room went silent, every dragon shifter in the room focused on her.

Aidan, his arm hooked around Sera, turned piercing blue eyes their way. Then he leaned down to Blake. “Why don’t you go play, buddy?”

At a nod from his mother, Blake groaned and trudged out the door, muttering, “I don’t get to be around for anything good.”

“Who is the true High King?” Rune shot back as soon as the child was out of dragon ear shot. “More than one phoenix mated to more than one king begs the question, don’t you agree?”

Meira’s mind took a step back from the emotions clotting the air and assessed the man in front of her. As a rogue and a traitor, did he care who led? Something in the set of his jaw, the way he watched her, the single beat of emotion that tapped at her empathic shield, told her this mattered to him, but not because of multiple phoenixes.

Find out what he wants.

The thought came from that same empathic power. Calm stole through her with eerie ease and Meira let it. Because the truth of those words was so crystal clear to her. She slowly, deliberately, lowered those shields that held out others’ emotions, and braced herself for the impact.

Only instead of a tsunami hitting her, threatening to drown her, the emotions came at her softly.

Am I doing this?

Harsh emotions swirled around each person, and yet they weren’t overwhelming her, more like lighting each person in the room up so she could read them like her computer code. Worry and a deep love from Tyrek. Curiosity and hope from Aidan and his family. She didn’t dare look to Sam, moving on. Suspicion and also…hope…from Rune. Now, that was interesting.

Meira focused on the black dragon shifter and the surety of her first thought. What did he want? “How about we take down the one who’s not and figure out who is after?”

Her heart tumbled around inside her at being so bold, except she wasn’t nervous or edgy or any of those other things, like before. She wasn’t putting on a mask right now. This was how she could contribute, and that gave her…authority.

Sam’s hand inched over, brushing against hers in a barely there touch. A show of solidarity. He couldn’t touch her. Not really. Not here. And she shouldn’t want him to, but dang if that small spark of physical connection didn’t zing through her, bolstering her confidence even more.

“I don’t know you,” she