The Impatient Lord by Michelle M. Pillow

his brothers’ happiness.
    “ Many blessings, my brothers,” he whispered, meaning it. His self-pity would not reach beyond this moment. He would bury the pain deep and return to work for that is all he had. Work. Duty. Work. Duty. The endless cycle felt meaningless with no wife and sons to share his life with.
    After packing up the makeshift ca mpsite, he headed back down to the valley to watch his brothers announce their marriages. His presence in the crowd would show his support. How could the others begin to understand how hard it was for him to be there?
    Climbing down the cliff was easier in shifted form. He took a deep breath, letting the tough dark brown flesh of the dragon work its way over his skin. A ridge grew from his forehead to create a protective shield over his nose and brow. Fangs extended in his mouth and talons grew from his nail bed. His body remained relatively the same shape, but he was stronger this way, tougher. In his dragon form, he could move with great agility and he didn’t hesitate to jump off the side of the cliff, turning in midair to land against a rocky edge. He swung his feet back and forth like a pendulum, falling a little with each pass only to catch and release his weight with his hands. Within a few moments, he reached the bottom.
    Instantly , he focused his senses to gauge his surroundings. It was an old habit, one drilled into them during their youth when training to fight. The ceremonies had started. A couple made love in the forest a few miles to the southeast. Birds sang, signifying all was well to the west. And…footsteps.
    There w as something off about the way the person walked. The steps were too light and measured. Mirek frowned. Could it be the Var dared to come to their festival? The enemy cat shifting race ruled the lands to the south. King Attor would be a fool to send his soldiers so close to the Draig palace. He listened a moment longer. The steps did not sound like Var.
    Curious more than concerned, he followed the sound. For the first time since the failed ceremony, his mind was distracted by something other than self-indulgent misery. His heartbeat quickened. Perhaps he was a little drunk, or overtired, or emotionally drained, but he thought to detect the faint scent of a woman on the breeze. He followed it, mindlessly needing to discover the end of this trail. All of his senses focused on the sound of those feet. His breathing deepened, not from the exertion, but from a strange sense of excitement.
    “ Welcome to the family of Draig, Lady Aeron. I hope you will enjoy your new home,” the queen’s voice announced loudly from the ceremonial stage. A bride had just been presented to the council of elders. Mirek listened past the sound as he followed his prey.
    “ Aeron.” The word was soft, almost too soft to hear. “Aeron, what have you done?”
    He concentrated on the feminine voice, finding the bearer pressed against a thick banner post. Overhead, the royal standard flapped heavily in the breeze. He narrowed his gaze, taking in every tiny detail. She wore the gown of a bride about to walk through the procession line. However, he’d seen all the women. He was sure he’d have remembered the deep reddish brown of this one’s hair and the lush curve of her hips.
    As if sensing his interest in it, t he woman ran her hands through her hair and shook it lightly. Mirek couldn’t help but smile at the way the sunlight rippled over it. Her temple hit hard against the post. He moved closer. She didn’t hear his approach as she spoke to herself in the old star language. “Blast it all, Aeron. What did you do? This wasn’t the plan.”
    Plan? The woman mus t have known she was fated by the gods to marry during this particular ceremony. Only, he hadn’t found her. No wonder she was upset.
    Mirek caught her scent —exotic and sweet but tinged with the floral perfume Galaxy Brides had provided. He breathed deeply, drawn closer still. Desire rippled through him and