While a future queen lay on cold stone wondering how her life had become a dumpster fire with a crown on it, an Alpha listening to breeding hymns eight hundred miles away was wondering the same thing.

✦✦✦

DOMINO 59: THE GREAT BALL-WING INCIDENT

GREYHALL CROSSING - 5:20 AM

When the chute ejected them, they came out like they had been stuffed into a suitcase by a sadist.

The tiny one came out first, face-planting in towels. The big one was second, wing caught like a cheap curtain. Tharos Stonehowl was last, cocooned in someone’s dirty bedsheets like a failed toga and wondering what the fuck he did to deserve this.

"Something in my pelvis is sideways," the smaller one complained.

"Your pelvis was sideways before the chute," the larger one said. "It’s a birth defect. Our mother drank during the egg."

Tharos stopped walking. "You two are actual brothers?"

"We are clutch-mates. Obviously."

The smaller one stood up, brushed himself off, and immediately sniffed the towels he’d landed in.

"Don’t," Tharos warned.

"Male. Dominant. Recently... exerted himself physically. This towel tells a story, Alpha."

"I said DON’T."

"You piss on things. We sniff them. For example, my brother’s wing smells like your balls from—"

"Say that again and I’ll rip it off."

"Which one? The wing or the—"

"WALK."

They moved single file through a service corridor.

The passage linked to the east wing through a gap behind a tapestry that dumped straight into the closet of the room she’d be in. Something that had been checked during the sweep but was now being used again because Tharos had this shit planned.

"I smell her," the smaller one whispered. "Unmistakable. That exact, mouthwatering scent like a womb on a breeding bench right before it takes a full load—"

"Shut your goddamn mouth," Tharos snapped.

"—of flowers. I was going to say flowers. You have a dirty mind, Alpha."

"You said womb. Fucking filthy."

"What does it matter to you?" the taller Dark Fae asked. "You want her father. We agreed to help. You are being insensitive."

✦✦✦

DOMINO 60: DRAGONS CAUGHT IN THE ACT

LUNARIS KEEP — GUINEVERE’S CHAMBERS — 5:25 AM

CRACK.

White light split the room like a seam ripping in reality.

Maddox and Kael lunged.

But she was already gone. The white light took her and left behind two dragons gripping each other in a full-body embrace that, without context, looked romantic.

They were chest to chest, arms locked, breathing hard, staring at each other from an about-to-make-out distance, when Darrow Veyron burst through the door with twelve Luminari sentinels behind him.

Whatever Darrow expected to find in this room, it wasn’t two dragons slow-dancing.

"Where is the Princess of Lunaris?"

"Not here," Maddox snapped, shoving Kael off of him. "Who the fuck are you? And why are you entering my wife’s private chambers?"

Twelve Luminari blades were drawn in unison.

Maddox’s eyes flashed pure dragon. "Lower them. Now."

Every blade dropped like the hands holding them had been burned.

"I am Commander of the Luminari Kingsguard," Darrow answered calmly. "By order of the Luminari High Tribunal, a warrant of arrest has been issued for the Princess of—"

"For fuck’s sake." Kael snatched the arrest warrant out of Darrow’s hands, already skimming it.

"Surely there is some kind of misunderstanding, Commander," Octavian jumped in. "That girl has been nothing but respectful. A full kingsguard squadron over property damage—"

Darrow cut him off. "That girl is a wanted criminal."

"Correction," Maddox said, his voice ice. "That girl is the future High Queen of Velkaris. Now answer my damn question. On what grounds?"

Darrow didn’t flinch.

"Attempted regicide against King Landon Solveil, Sovereign of the Luminari Kingdom. Under Luminari law, flight from a sovereign injury is an admission of guilt. If she does not surrender herself, that will be considered an act of war."

✦✦✦

DOMINO 61: NOT THE SACRED FUCKING ROD

GREYHALL CROSSING — GUINEVERE’S CHAMBERS — 5:25 AM

The Dark Fae brothers sniffed so aggressively they sounded like two pugs having simultaneous asthma attacks.

Tharos watched this happen and made peace with the fact that if there was a hell, he was already in it.

"She will come back. They always come back to where they sleep. It’s instinct. Prey returns to the den," the larger Dark Fae reassured the smaller one.

"She’s fucking gone, you braindead cock," Tharos snapped. "This was a waste of everyone’s time. Mine most importantly."

They held hands. That was the first warning sign. Then they closed their eyes. Second warning sign. The chanting started.

"O vessel of ours, hear the breeding call. She who is empty shall be filled. By claw, by fang, by the sacred rod of the First Clutch—"

"Both of you, shut the hell up. Someone will hear us."

"—we call thee onto thy back where the stars may witness the planting—"

CRACK.

White light split the room so bright all three of them flinched.

Guinevere Lunaris materialized three feet above the bed, hit the mattress back-first, bounced once, and landed in a heap of limbs with the unmistakable energy of a woman who had been having the worst week in recorded history and it was still fucking going.

She stared up at the ceiling, grateful for the landing and also completely over whatever the hell the light was doing.

For two full seconds, nobody moved.

The three of them stared at her.

Then the smaller Dark Fae’s entire body vibrated. "Look brother, the VESSEL has delivered herself to us."

"THE PROPHECY PROVIDES. FIRST SCENT IS MINE. I CALLED IT IN THE CHUTE."

Guinevere’s head whipped around at the noise and recognition hit her square in the gut.

"DIBS DIES AT DAWN, BROTHER. IT’S ANCIENT LAW."

She scrambled backwards across the bed.

"Oh no," she breathed. "Oh no no no no—"

"Oh YES," the smaller one corrected, lunging. "Dibs of destiny! Vessel on her knees, Vessel on her back—"

She rolled off the opposite side of the bed. The Dark Fae hit the mattress face-first and bounced like it was a demented trampoline at fuck-face circus.

The larger one didn’t bother lunging. He circled the bed from the other side because he had learned over the years that patience beats enthusiasm when your target isn’t nailed down.

"RIPE VESSEL, READY VESSEL, DROPPED FROM THE SKY LIKE A GIFT—"

WHACK.

Guinevere smacked him with a pillow hard enough to trigger a full-scale feather explosion.

"I’m not your goddamn vessel."

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