Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

Eryx answered on the fourth ring.

He was reclining across a pale-blue sofa with one arm thrown over the backrest, dressed in an embroidered robe that appeared entirely inappropriate for the middle of the afternoon. Behind him, sunlight poured through tall windows overlooking one of Rohan’s private gardens.

”Arion,” he greeted pleasantly. ”How unexpected. Have you finally decided to apologize for refusing the wine I sent you?”

”It arrived without documentation.”

”It arrived with a handwritten note.”

”That is not documentation.”

”It contained my signature.”

”That made it more suspicious.”

Dean covered a laugh from the sofa opposite Arion’s desk.

Eryx’s eyes shifted toward him. ”Dean is there. Excellent. Someone capable of appreciating gifts.”

”The wine was very good,” Dean offered.

”You drank it?” Arion asked.

”Your security tested it first.”

”That is not the point.”

”It usually is when discussing suspicious wine.”

Eryx smiled. ”I already prefer this conversation. What do you need?”

The ease disappeared from his expression before Arion answered. Eryx might enjoy behaving as though royal affairs were an inconvenience inflicted upon him personally, but he was not foolish. Arion rarely contacted him directly without reason.

”Draxil,” Arion said.

Eryx sighed.

”No.”

”I have not asked anything yet.”

”You said Draxil. My answer is no.”

”Your brothers have approached Alamina for support.”

”They approach everyone with an army, money, or enough influence to make the other brother nervous.”

”Both believe they can claim the throne.”

”Both believe breathing qualifies them to rule. Neither has developed a second qualification.”

Dean leaned toward the communication panel. ”Which one is less disastrous?”

”No.”

”That was not an option.”

”It is the only honest answer.” Eryx sat upright and adjusted the loose sleeve falling down his arm. ”My eldest brother believes fear is administrative competence. The next believes every disagreement can be resolved by imprisoning the correct number of people. Draxil will survive either of them only because kingdoms are annoyingly difficult to kill.”

Arion folded his hands over the desk. ”One of them controls access to Claudia’s Palace.”

Eryx went still.

It lasted only a moment, but both Arion and Dean noticed.

”Why do you want it?” Eryx asked.

”We have reason to believe Claudia’s organization developed the method used to alter Andrea’s pheromones.”

Eryx’s face lost the remainder of its amusement.

”Alter them how?”

”His natural profile could not lure infected beasts,” Arion said. ”Whatever granted him that ability was acquired later. Seven believes the source may still be in Draxil.”

”And you intend to purchase access by choosing which idiot receives a crown.”

”I am considering supporting a claimant in exchange for unrestricted access to the palace, its archives, and everyone connected to Claudia’s research.”

Eryx stared at him for several seconds.

Then he laughed.

It was not his usual bright, theatrical laugh. This one was shorter and considerably less pleasant

”You cannot support either of them.”

”I can. We have reports on both of them, I can choose based on who benefits us the best.”

”You should not.”

”That is why I called you.”

Eryx rose from the sofa and walked toward the windows, carrying the communication tablet with him. ”You want my assessment of my brothers.”

”I want to know whether either can be controlled long enough to honor an agreement.”

”No.”

”Eryx.”

”I am helping you. You merely dislike the answer.”

Dean rested his chin against his hand. ”You could take the throne.”

Eryx turned toward the screen with an expression of genuine offense. ”Why would I do that?”

”You are the king’s son.”

”So are several men I would not trust with an artificial plant.”

”You have Heather,” Dean said. ”She knows how to govern.”

”Heather has her own kingdom. I will not reward her competence by giving her another one to repair.”

”You could govern it.”

”I could also walk willingly into an active beast nest. Both would be unpleasant, but the beast nest would require fewer meetings.”

Arion watched him. ”You never intended to make a claim.”

”Not before I married Heather, not after, and certainly not now. My brothers have spent years dismantling Draxil while fighting over which of them would inherit the wreckage. Ministries have split into factions. Provincial commanders answer to whichever prince paid them most recently. Half the treasury has vanished, and the other half has been promised three times.” Eryx waved one hand toward the garden beyond the glass. ”I live in Rohan. My wife loves me. And I can do whatever I want with my money. I have no intention of surrendering any of that for Draxil.”

”Then we return to the two claimants,” Arion said.

”No.” Eryx’s gaze sharpened. ”There is another.”

Dean straightened.

Arion said nothing.

Eryx looked faintly irritated, as though regretting the words before he had finished speaking them.

”My second-eldest brother,” he continued. ”Amaru.”

”I thought the second eldest was currently contesting the succession,” Dean said.

”The second eldest still in Draxil.”

Arion’s attention narrowed. ”Why have I never met him? Draxil, like every kingdom with dominant alphas, should have sent him to Alamina at least once during beast season.”

”Because no one knew he was a dominant alpha.”

Silence settled over the communication line.

Dean blinked. ”How do you hide that?”

”Carefully.” Eryx shifted on the sofa. ”His mother concealed it when he presented, and Amaru continued after her death.”

”From the public?” Arion asked.

”From our father.”

That explained far more than Arion liked.

Eryx’s father had never tolerated threats to his succession, whether real or imagined. Dominant sons, nephews, and cousins had died with remarkable regularity throughout his reign—illnesses, hunting accidents, failed military campaigns, and executions following conveniently discovered conspiracies.

Dean’s expression lost its amusement. ”Your father killed the dominant members of his own family.”

”Most of them,” Eryx said. ”He considered dominance an ambition rather than a secondary gender.”

”And somehow all of his children developed perfectly healthy relationships with succession,” Dean muttered.

Eryx smiled without humor. ”We inherited many things from him.”

”How long did Amaru hide it?” Arion asked.

”Until shortly before his exile. He had reached adulthood, established himself in the military, and built enough loyalty that killing him quietly was no longer simple.”

”His mother planned well.”

”She planned for him to survive. I doubt she expected him to become involved in court.”

”But he did.”

”Amaru believed he could protect himself once he had enough influence.” Eryx looked toward the window. ”He was wrong.”

”Who discovered what he was?”

”I do not know. One of my brothers, probably. Perhaps a physician. Perhaps one of Amaru’s lovers became frightened or ambitious.” Eryx shrugged, though the gesture lacked its usual carelessness. ”Once the information reached our father, the accusations began.”

Dean frowned. ”Why exile him instead of killing him like the others?”

”Because by then too many soldiers knew him. Too many commanders respected him. Executing him immediately after revealing that he was a dominant alpha would have made every rumor about our father look true.”

”They were true,” Dean said.

”Yes, but kings prefer their crimes to remain debatable.”

Arion leaned forward. ”Was Amaru’s secondary gender announced publicly?”

”No. Officially, he was an ordinary alpha who conspired against the throne. His dominance was removed from every medical and royal record they could reach.”

”Then his supporters may not know.”

”Some must have suspected. Dominance is difficult to hide indefinitely, particularly in military quarters. But suspicion is safer than proof.”

”And your brothers conspired against him because they feared he would become the obvious heir once his gender was known.”

”They feared our father might kill them to eliminate opposition,” Eryx corrected. ”Or that the military would place Amaru on the throne whether Father approved or not. Perhaps both.”

Dean stared at him. ”That does not make them sound better.”

”It was not intended to.”

Arion considered the implications. A hidden dominant prince, older than the current claimants, with military experience and enough support that the king had chosen exile over execution, would not merely become another candidate. His return could overturn the entire succession.

”Does Amaru know the king is dying?” he asked.