Klavon had been angered over Sira’s actions. He was furious that she had not believed him—had gone behind his back to see if Prydon was indeed dead. But, had she not, the boy would surely have followed the dragon to the training fields.
Sira had prevented that, and he had to admit that she had done well by him. As it was, he instructed her to continue to watch and to make sure that the boy reached his destination…and his death.
She had done just that, and now Klavon laughed cynically at the boy’s incompetence. His own son, had he had one, would never have been so inept! Killing him would be too easy, unfitting of one so powerful, but it must be done. And Klavon would enjoy it, beneath him as it may be.
Sira stood beside him. She was petting a large cat-like creature. It resembled a panther, black and sleek, but its shoulders were larger, and it mouth was framed with two large fangs.
“It was quite amusing,” she said.
“Did he know it was you?”
Sira laughed. “Did he know? He was so frantic as he was…drowning. I doubt he would have known had it been his own mother who saved him. No. He has no idea it was me who boosted him from the mire.”
“Good,” said Klavon. “And where is he now?”
“I sent him to the inn. He will be heading here tomorrow.”
“Of course,” said Klavon, “I could go to the inn and dispense of him tonight…”
“But that could cause panic in your subjects,” said Sira.
Klavon laughed. “True…and I would not want my subjects to believe they were ever in any danger. I can wait until he gets here. In fact, I prefer it that way. This courtyard makes a wonderful battle arena, don’t you think?”
Klavon glanced at the pile of bones and laughed again. He was distracted as Fraenir came into view and dove to the ground. Sira stepped back, and her pet stepped in front of her as if to protect her from the beast.
“Will you never learn?” laughed Fraenir. “I am the stronger.”
The cat hissed, and Sira frowned. But then her face softened, and she said with a light voice, “Perhaps I should have him take care of Prydon for you.”
Fraenir growled and thrust his face toward Sira, stopped by the long fangs of her cat. They fixed their eyes on each other, neither appearing to budge, but neither making any further gesture of hostility.
“Come, come, you two,” said Klavon. “You are both valuable. Have you found the wretched beast?”
Fraenir stood up but was still staring down at the cat, a rumble in his chest as if he would roast Sira’s pet at any moment. “I have not, but if that dragon comes near, I will know…and I will kill him.”
“Him, yes,” said Klavon. “But Darius? He is mine.”
Chapter Eight
The Lesson Learned
Darius and the Dragon's Stone Page 8