The parchment blurred before Kovax's eyes, elegant script swimming into an indecipherable mess of loops and lines. His head throbbed with exhaustion, the aftermath of sharing his magic with Ryaz still burning through his veins like liquid fire. He blinked hard, trying to focus on the contract that would determine the rest of his life.

"Son?" Thaleus's voice cut through the fog in his mind. "Are you even reading this?"

Kovax looked up, meeting his father's concerned gaze. "I'm trying."

Thaleus sighed, the sound rumbling deep in his massive chest. He reached across the table and gently pulled the contract from Kovax's hands.

"It's your basic political marriage arrangement," Thaleus said, his voice softening. "With added provisions for the care of the hybrid child. The contract's existence is entirely contingent on the survival of the child—if it's born healthy and lives, the marriage remains ironclad."

Kovax nodded, grateful for his father's understanding. "And if something happens to the child?"

"The Contract can be cancelled. The only other stipulations that can affect it is a criminal act or treason. Both would allow discussion of annulment or divorce," Thaleus explained, his scaled finger tracing a particular clause. "War between our races would automatically break the contract."

The word "war" sent a chill down Kovax's spine. The thought of facing Ryaz across a battlefield made his chest constrict with a pain so visceral he had to suppress a wince.

"There's also a pre-marital agreement," Thaleus continued. "It allows you to fulfill your pre-birth obligations to the child while it remains in Ryaz's womb—regular magic transfusions like the one you just performed, without backlash or punishment from either race or country."

Kovax frowned, something nagging at the edges of his mind. He scanned the document again, searching for a particular section. "What about Lord Forrester? I don't see any mention of Ryaz's current partner or provisions that would apply to him."

Thaleus closed his eyes, the scales along his jawline darkening slightly—a dragon's equivalent of discomfort.

Emperor Ru'unan cleared his throat, drawing Kovax's attention. "That is the point of contention between our families," he said, his ancient voice carrying the weight of centuries. "My son is unwilling to leave Michael out of the relationship. Polyamory has been a Fae acceptance—indeed, an insistence—with multiple political marriages. It is a non-negotiable part of our culture and lifestyle."

The Emperor's silver eyes fixed on Kovax with unsettling intensity. "I cannot abide a monogamous marriage for political reasons."

Lady Fyretouch stepped forward, her copper scales shimmering like molten metal under the warm lamplight. "With all due respect, Your Majesty," she began, her voice firm yet respectful, "fated mate bonds cannot allow such deviances in romantic attention. The very idea would send Prince Kovax into a frenzy if Prince Ryaz doesn't acknowledge the bond."

The mere thought of Ryaz with Michael ignited a tempest of possessive rage within Kovax, so intense that his vision momentarily swirled with a crimson haze. He gripped the edge of the ornate table, his claws digging deep into the polished wood, leaving behind a trail of jagged indentations as he wrestled to regain control over his emotions.

"Kovax?" Thaleus's voice sliced through the suffocating fog of jealousy, a lifeline pulling him back to the present. "What do you want to do?"

The question lingered heavily in the air between them, a challenge and a plea. What did he want? He wanted Ryaz to be entirely his, without any exceptions. He longed for Ryaz to feel the bond, to acknowledge him and only him. He wanted to crawl right back into bed beside him and never let go. He wanted to touch him, to feel his soft skin, trace his many freckles, comb his fingers through copper ringlets…

But his rational mind understood Ryaz's attachment to Michael—they had been together for years, had planned a life together before Kovax's drugged assault had shattered their future. The thought of destroying that relationship filled him with shame.

"I won't step in the way of an established relationship," Kovax said finally, his voice rough with emotion he couldn't fully suppress. "It's not right. After what I did... I have no claim on his heart."

Lady Fyretouch's expression tightened with alarm. "Prince Kovax, I understand you feel responsible for a grievous act plagued upon you both, but that aside this isn't about right or wrong, about claims or fairness." She moved closer, her voice dropping to a urgent whisper. "This is about your survival."

Ru'unan's head snapped up, silver eyebrows drawing together. "What do you mean, his survival?"

The spiritualist turned to the Emperor, her copper scales darkening further. "When a dragon experiences a fated mate bond, it's not merely emotional or magical—it's biological, fundamental to their very existence." She spread her hands, as if trying to convey the enormity of what she was explaining. "If the bond goes unanswered, if the mate rejects it or divides their attention too significantly..."

She hesitated, glancing at Kovax with something like pity in her eyes.

"Speak plainly," Ru'unan commanded.

"The dragon dies," she said simply. "First comes obsession, then jealousy so intense it borders on madness. Their scales darken, their fire dims. The depression stage lasts the longest. They stop eating, stop sleeping, talking. Eventually, their heart simply... stops."

Silence fell over the room, heavy and oppressive. Kovax stared at his hands, shame and fear warring within him. He had known, on some level, what the texts said about unanswered mate bonds. But hearing it stated so baldly made it real in a way it hadn't been before.

Ru'unan's face had gone pale, the ancient Fae suddenly looking every one of his thousands of years. "And there is no cure? No alternative?"

Lady Fyretouch shook her head slowly. "The bond must be acknowledged and honored, or the dragon perishes. It's the price of such a powerful connection."

"How long?" Ru'unan asked, his voice barely audible.

"It varies," Lord Ashscale interjected, speaking for the first time. "Months, perhaps years. The stronger the dragon, the longer they can resist. But the end is always the same."

Thaleus reached across the table, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "Kovax is strong," he said, a fierce pride in his voice. "He'll have time."

Time for what? Kovax wondered bitterly. Time to watch Ryaz with another man? Time to feel his life force draining away day by day? He closed his eyes, trying to imagine a future where he shared Ryaz with Michael—where he watched them embrace, kiss, disappear into private chambers together.

The mate bond writhed inside him like a wounded animal, rejecting the very concept with such violence that Kovax had to bite back a groan.

"There must be another way," Ru'unan said, rising from his seat to pace the length of the room. "Our scholars, our healers—surely between our two races, we can find a solution."

"The bond has existed since the dawn of dragonkind," Lady Fyretouch said gently. "If there were a way to circumvent its effects, we would have discovered it millennia ago."

Kovax looked up, meeting Ru'unan's troubled gaze. "Please, don’t tell Ryaz any of this. I won't force him to choose," he said firmly. "I won't make him give up someone he loves because of a biological imperative neither of us asked for."

"Even if it costs you your life?" Ru'unan asked, his ancient eyes searching Kovax's face.

"Even then," Kovax confirmed, a strange calm settling over him as he made the decision. "I won't be another violation in his life."

The door to the bedroom opened, and all heads turned. Ryaz stood in the doorway, copper hair tousled from sleep, one of Kovax's silk robes wrapped around his slender frame. His lilac eyes moved from face to face, finally settling on Kovax.

"What did I miss?" he asked, his voice still rough with sleep.

The mate bond sang in Kovax's chest at the sight of him, a bittersweet melody of desire and despair. He wondered how long he had before the hunger for Ryaz's undivided attention began to consume him from within. How long before the knowledge that he shared Ryaz's affection drove him to madness and death.

Not long enough, he suspected. Not nearly long enough.