The Last Silver

Dinraal's first thought upon reaching the location marked on his HUD was that he had never seen a jumpship this luxurious.

Considering humanity to be among the most wasteful and disgusting species in the universe, he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised.

For all he knew, they defecated into platinum receptacles, wiped themselves with leaves from the World Tree, and bathed in phoenix tears.

Naturally, they would travel in comfort as well.

Dinraal quickly ducked behind a stack of cargo as he heard a guard approaching. Once the footsteps had faded, he activated the opaque display of his HUD and studied the map.

The first leg of the journey is supposed to last three hours.

He committed the layout to memory.

"If I can snatch her during the transition planetside upon arrival, I'll have a clean window to commandeer a ship and head for the meeting point with the General."

Dinraal knew humans well enough to understand one thing: they were exceptionally skilled at avoiding responsibility.

By the time they finished blaming one another and realized none of her attendants were with her, he and his hostage would already be in hyperspace and halfway to their destination.

He activated his cloaking gear and moved toward a room marked as unoccupied on the ship's map.

The jumpship was not fully staffed, and several of the unused quarters had been repurposed for storage. This particular room was filled with expensive-looking luggage.

Dinraal studied the bags.

Princess's belongings, perhaps.

Hoping to find something useful—either a resource he could exploit or information he could use against her—he opened the nearest bag.

The first thing he pulled out was a large binder.

He froze.

Across the front, written in oversized silver glitter, was his name.

DINRAAL

The lettering had been stylized with the enthusiasm of a middle-school girl decorating her favorite notebook.

Dinraal stared at it.

What in the abyss…?

Hoping it was merely a dossier containing intelligence gathered on him, he opened the binder.

Then his eyes widened.

Inside were photographs. Dozens of them.

Some were recent. Others showed him years earlier. There were candid photographs of him in places he had never realized he was being watched, and pictures from his childhood that could only have come from his former home in Draec.

He slowly turned another page. "Is this woman obsessed with me?"

The thought lingered.

Then Dinraal frowned.

He didn't actually know whose luggage this was.

Until he could confirm that the binder belonged to his intended target, the discovery was little more than an interesting mystery.

Carefully, he returned everything exactly as he had found it, leaving no trace of his tampering.

Then he left.

After locating another room that had been converted into storage, Dinraal settled inside and set an alarm on his HUD.

It would wake him when the ship dropped out of hyperspace and approached its destination.

Not long after he fell asleep, the door to the room he had just vacated opened.

Light spilled across the floor.

"Finally. Some privacy and peace."

A stunning young woman stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

"We're in the dead of space. Those annoying attendants don't need to follow me everywhere."

She sighed.

"It's not like some criminal is going to suddenly appear, right?"

She paused. A mischievous smile touched her lips.

The young woman turned toward a mirror.

An impossibly beautiful face stared back at her.

The finest features of the royal succubi had combined within her so perfectly that any trace of ordinary human imperfection seemed almost nonexistent.

She applied a fresh coat of lip gloss and adjusted her blouse with practiced precision.

"Even if I'm only seeing him through pictures," she murmured, "he will never see me looking anything less than one hundred percent perfect."

The "he" she referred to was the sole focus of the enormous binder resting inside her luggage.

Prince Dinraal.

His name had occupied her thoughts for years.

Her name was Isolde.

She had been three years old when Dinraal entered the world.

The royal maternity ward had always been one of her favorite places to visit. She loved meeting her new brothers and sisters, eagerly welcoming each new member of the sprawling royal family.

Then Dinraal had been born.

Dragons were considered the closest thing to perfection by many races in the universe.

Yet even to a being as beautiful as a royal succubus, the infant Dinraal had been impossibly luminous.

From that moment forward, she had been fascinated by him. They grew up beside one another.

To Dinraal, she was Sissy Issy. To Isolde, he was Brother Din.

She adored him. And, much to the frustration of nearly everyone else, she cared little for anyone besides Dinraal and her parents.

Then everything changed.

Those infuriating loyalists had refused to accept defeat.

During the public opening of a beautiful new park, they launched an attack and took the last living royal of House Draec.

Dinraal.

He had kicked and screamed for Isolde as he was dragged away, but he had been unable to break free from the grown dragons restraining him.

For the next five years, he learned the truth.

The truth about humanity.

The truth about his family.

And the truth about who he really was.

He also discovered his terrifying talent for destruction and violence.

Upon turning sixteen, Dinraal had been given a choice.

He could relinquish his authority and attempt to live a peaceful life.

Or he could swear an oath to avenge his people and his fallen empire.

Dinraal chose vengeance.

He swore a Firebrand's Oath.

And he took up the symbol of his authority: The Mithril Gaunt.

Isolde had searched for him relentlessly.

High and low.

Planet after planet.

Her obsession eventually became so consuming that her loving father made a difficult decision.

He exiled her to a distant corner of the empire.

Then he assigned her a mission filled with cruelty and bloodshed, hoping the horrors of war would finally force his daughter to forget Dinraal and move on with her life.

But he had underestimated fate.

And fate, it seemed, had other ideas.

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