The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate novel Chapter 433

Chapter 433: Who’s The Most Handsome Boy

DRAKENFELL — DRAKEN FORCES TRAINING FIELD

Tiberon Drakenfell walked the dragon field with Dex beside him.

Captain Halvek met them at the perimeter.

"Captain. Guinevere Ashford’s dragon. Where is it?"

"With Thor, Your Majesty. The dragon responds to him better than any of our handlers."

Tiberon nodded once. "Show me."

Halvek led them past the formation line, past the equipment racks, past two senior riders who saluted and received nothing in return because the king was walking and salutes were background noise.

They rounded the far end of the training yard.

A green-scaled juvenile dragon was lounging in the grass.

Thor Crushturn was giving him a belly rub.

"Who’s the most handsome boy on this field? You are. You are the most handsome boy. Don’t let anyone tell you different, Wrex. They’re jealous. Every single one of them. Jealous of your scales. Jealous of your eyes. Jealous of your whole vibe."

Wrex’s tail thumped against the ground. The thumping was rhythmic, contented, the tail-equivalent of enthusiastic agreement.

"You and me and Styx? Top three. Unchanged. Undefeated. The rankings are locked, little man. Locked."

Tiberon watched this for four seconds without speaking.

"Wrex?" he asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Halvek kept his voice neutral. "Thor named him. Short for Wreckage."

"Of course it is."

Tiberon studied the juvenile. The green scales. The size, still small, but the frame carrying the proportional markers of a dragon that would be considerably larger at maturity. The eyes, which were bright, alert, tracking Tiberon’s presence even while the belly rub continued, because the dragon was comfortable but not careless.

"Has he used more of his flame?"

Halvek shook his head. "No, Your Majesty. We have been running him on basic drills. Ground work, formation, coordination. But we can get him started on flame development if you want."

Tiberon looked at Dex.

The look was an invitation. Not a test. Tiberon had been handing Dex operational questions with increasing frequency, and the handing was obvious.

Dex assessed the dragon. His eyes moved across the juvenile’s frame, his posture, his responsiveness to Thor’s handling, his alertness despite relaxation. The assessment took two seconds.

"We continue with flight drills first. Build trust before we build weapons. He lost his bonded. He needs a foundation before we push him."

Tiberon nodded. The nod carried approval he would never verbalize, because verbalizing approval was for men who needed their sons to know they were proud, and Tiberon preferred his sons to figure it out from context.

"Make it happen, Captain," Tiberon said.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

They moved toward the shelter at the field’s edge. Tiberon positioned himself against the wall. Dex leaned beside him. Halvek stood at the corner, clipboard restored to its operational position.

A voice cut across the field.

"Don’t look at me like that, Onyx."

All three men went still.

Bellatrix’s voice carried across the training yard.

"I know, I know. If they have you do the triangle formation again, I will yell at them. I told them you were advanced. Don’t you worry."

None of them moved. Tiberon had received Archibald’s report. She had, according to the report, clawed a dark mage unconscious on a forest road and resumed her journey without waiting for the rescue party. Why she was on the dragon field was beyond him.

Dex peered around the corner of the shelter.

His mother was walking across the training field carrying Onyx on her hip. The dragon was wearing a midnight black tuxedo with gold accents.

Beside her, walking at heel with the disciplined stride of a dragon who had been taught formation and had graduated to escort duty, was Avalon, also in formalwear.

Hale’s dragon was walking beside his mother.

Dex blinked three times in rapid succession, then stepped out from behind the shelter.

Bellatrix was already in motion. Two junior handlers had approached from the formation line, and Bellatrix was waving them off with the dismissive authority of a woman whose jurisdiction over the dragon training program was entirely self-appointed and universally obeyed.

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