“Well, whose fault is that?” Damian drawled out the question. “I’ve been telling them for centuries they deserve more than just plain ‘Duke.’ ”
Zane barely refrained from rolling his eyes. From the moment he shifted into a black dragon over five hundred years before, Damian had been on his case about sharing the title of Imperial Duke.
“You wanted us to takeyourtitle,” Costas reminded him. “We’re never going to do that. Elf is giving us unique ones.” Costas and Zane had always agreed on upholding the tradition of there being only one Imperial Duke.
Costas had been offered the position since he was the man who taught Chrysander and Damian how to behave as royalty, but he’d turned it down, unwilling to come between the twins. For all the tens of thousands of years dragons had flown, there was a single trusted shifter given that sacred title, and neither Costas nor Zane was arrogant enough to change that. Zane’s father had also once held it, and he didn’t want anything to do with that traitor.
“Zane’s new crown is amazing. Madeline was nice enough to put some teal on it even though I’m not a dragon,” Tiri said.
Zane rubbed a thumb over Tiri’s high cheekbone and leaned down to kiss his mouth. “I’m glad you like it, baby. Of course there had to be teal on it. You’re my mate.” Tiri was something Zane hadn’t expected. He’d managed to convince himself he didn’t want to meet his other half but then out of nowhere, a gorgeous sprite with white hair liberally streaked with teal entered his life, changing it irrevocably. Now Zane wondered how he’d ever passed a day without him.
“We should be able to meet with you on Thursday evening if you’re free, so we can discuss plans for the condo,” Chrysander told Harley. “There’s still some disagreement over the first floor, but we’ll iron that out before then.”
Ellery lifted his chin. “If you want to have space for events there, go ahead. I just want them to be as infrequent as possible. This is our home, and I do not think any of us feels comfortable having strangers in there. I do not object to private gatherings of our friends, but the days of large parties with half the Council are over.”
“Wesley feels it would be best if we remain approachable to the Council,” Chrysander argued gently. Zane hoped Ellery got his way; he’d never appreciated all the events in their home, and now that he had Tiri he liked it even less. Home should be a place to relax and shut yourself off from the world, not invite them in for tea and cakes.
“I understand that, Chrys, but Wesley is not the one who has to live there,” Ellery argued.
“I think we should follow Aleksander’s example and have our family vote on it,” Tiri suggested.
Costas nodded. “I like the way you think, Tiri. The only way anything happens at the D’Vaire household is if it’s unanimous.”
“Fine, I’m outnumbered. We can talk about this at home, and we’ll have a vote,” Chrysander conceded.
“I’m going to stay well away from your disagreement,” Harley remarked. “Would you care to do a quick walk-through of your workspaces?”
“Absolutely. Thank you, Harley,” Chrysander replied. Harley led them past the reception area where Wesley would man the desk to greet their visitors. He opened two tall doors which were still unpainted and revealed a massive office space fit for two emperors and their dukes. There was a stunning inlaid wood floor already in place, and floor-to-ceiling windows made up most of the back wall.
“There’s just paint left to do in here. Off to the right is the area you wanted for Costas. We left it with a glass wall for some noise reduction, but he’s still part of the main space with Damian and Zane. Next to that is the conference room,” Harley pointed out as they followed him to the areas he highlighted.
“This looks great. How many people will the new conference table seat?” Chrysander asked.
“About fifty with plenty of elbow room. You could squeeze in more chairs if needed,” Harley responded. He crossed the space where Zane, Damian, Ellery, and Chrysander would have their desks to the other side of the room. “We have a bathroom over here, complete with a shower. There’s a small closet in there for extra shirts or whatever. I’m famous for dousing myself with coffee, so I always keep a clean one in my truck.”
“That’s why all my shirts are black,” Damian commented.
Harley slid open a pocket door to reveal a teal workshop with one wall covered in a patchwork of different patterns like the tunic Tiri was wearing. In bold script on another was Tiri’s Textiles—the name of his new company. Tiri’s hands came together almost as if he were in prayer, and Zane rubbed a hand down his back.
“This is amazing.” Tiri raced into the room and trailed his fingers over one long table that already had an expensive, state-of-the-art sewing machine on it. Zane had worked hard with Harley to create this workshop for his other half, and seeing the joy in his stunning blue-green eyes made him feel about a million feet tall. “Thank you so much, Harley. I wasn’t expecting anything this nice.”
“Don’t thank me, your mate planned this down to the finest detail,” Harley answered.
Tiri turned toward Zane. “Did you really?” he asked reverently.
Zane nodded.
Shifting the little bag he was never without so it was behind him, Tiri ran to Zane and wrapped his arms tightly around his waist. Zane enfolded him instantly and kissed the top of his head. “Do you like it?”
“Oh, Zane…I love it.”
“Is there anything you need to change to make it work for you?”
Tiri peered up at him with shock in his teal gaze. “Not a single thing. It’s perfect just the way it is and so are you. This is the best thing you’ve ever given me. I couldn’t be happier. You’re simply the best mate on the planet.”
Zane tried not to blush as Tiri heaped effusive praise over his head, and he refused to look in the direction of any of his brothers. He already knew they were grinning like idiots. “No, that’s you.”
“Huh?”
