For a moment, he thought the dragon wouldn’t follow. It hung in the sky, wings pushing at the air while it clawed at its injured eye. Javan focused on the slim space between the third and fourth hills in front of him and reached deep for another burst of speed. His boots crunched on the shale beneath him as he closed in on his way out.
Behind him, the dragon roared. Javan risked a glance over his shoulder and his mouth went dry at the light of blind rage that glowed in the dragon’s uninjured eye. The beast snarled and dove for him.
“Yl’ Haliq be merciful,” Javan breathed as he raced toward the slice of light that glowed between the hills.
He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t turn around and aim the rock at the dragon. One misstep, one lost instant of forward momentum, and he wouldn’t be able to outrun the fiery death that was closing in on him.
Heat swept his back as the dragon sent a fireball toward him. Javan cried out in pain, but didn’t stop. Reaching the space between the hills, he abandoned the slingshot, grabbed both sides of the rocky outcrop, and swung his body through. Without pausing, he skidded down the steep incline, sending showers of rocks onto the small meadow at the base of the hill.
Carved wooden stakes marked the four corners of the meadow, and at its center was a raised stone platform the size of a table that could seat twenty. The academy’s coat of arms was carved into the front of the platform. A small selection of weapons was arranged on the left of the dais, and on the right stood the headmaster, the crimson sash in his hands. His back was to Javan, his focus on the main road where in the distance the three students Javan had left behind on the archery grounds were running toward the meadow.
“Weapon!” Javan yelled as his boots hit the grass.
The headmaster pivoted, his mouth an O of surprise as behind Javan, the dragon crashed into the space between the hills and exploded through it in a hail of dust and debris. The sash fluttered to the ground as the older man lunged for the other side of the platform and grabbed a bow and quiver.
Javan stumbled as he crossed the meadow, the painful burns along his arm and back searing into his nerves, and the headmaster yelled, “Catch!”
The bow and the quiver flew toward the prince. He scrambled to his feet and caught them as the headmaster hefted a long sword and began running toward Javan.
Whirling to face the dragon, Javan planted his feet, nocked an arrow, and took a breath as he aimed the weapon at the incoming beast. Its scales were impenetrable. He’d have to hit it in an eye again.
The headmaster reached his side as Javan drew back the bow, prayed he’d calculated wind speed and velocity correctly, and let the arrow fly.
The arrow arced through the air. The dragon’s lips peeled back, fire blooming in its throat. The headmaster raised his sword.
And then the arrow buried itself in the dragon’s injured eye.
The beast screamed, a half-human half-dragon sound that sent a chill shuddering through Javan.
This wasn’t a wild dragon from the north. This was a Draconi, a dragon shape-shifter from the eastern kingdom of Eldr. Why would a dragon shape-shifter be ordered to kill anyone who tried to get through the hills?
As the other competitors rushed into the meadow, the dragon clawed at its injured eye while the other eye glared balefully at the humans in the meadow. When it saw the prince’s friends grabbing weapons and joining him, it gave one last roar and then turned, its massive wings beating the air as it flew south.
Javan remained poised, another arrow nocked, though his chest heaved with every breath and his back was lit with white-hot pain. His friends surrounded him, their gazes on the sky until the dragon was no more than a tiny speck in the distance. Finally satisfied that the beast wasn’t going to return, Javan turned toward the headmaster and said, “That thing tried to kill me.”
The headmaster was staring at the southern horizon, his face ashen. “I know.”
Javan clenched his jaw and forced himself to speak respectfully to his elder. “Please help me understand why you would instruct a Draconi to guard the hill pass and kill anyone who came through it.”
“I didn’t.” The headmaster’s voice was soft, but there was anger in it.
“Then who did?” Javan asked, unease coiling in his stomach.
The headmaster’s eyes narrowed. “I’d very much like to find out.”
THREE
JAVAN STOOD AT the window of the room he shared with Kellan as the crowds for commencement day began pulling their carriages onto the academy’s long half-circle drive. His gaze flicked between the people below and the sky above, his pulse racing every time he caught sight of a dark, distant cloud and wondered if it was the dragon returning to finish what it started.
“What are you looking at?” Kellan asked.
Tearing his gaze from the sky, Javan glanced at the academy grounds again. “The extra security the headmaster ordered for the commencement ceremony just arrived.” He winced as he carefully pulled a clean tunic over his shoulders. The poultice the academy’s physician had spread over the burned skin on his back had taken away much of the sting, but it was still tender to the touch. “If that Draconi comes back, it’s in for trouble.”
Yl’ Haliq be praised, this time Javan wouldn’t be in the fight by himself.
Javan’s stomach knotted as he watched the security reinforcements move past the slow line of carriages carrying the noble parents of Milisatria’s graduating class from across the three western kingdoms. Somewhere in that line there would be a sleek carriage made of polished teak and ebony with the Kadar family crest painted on its doors. Somewhere in that line was Javan’s father, whose deep grief over the death of his wife hadn’t caused him to miss a single day of ruling both Akram and his son with an implacable resolve.
A true ruler was fit—body, mind, and soul—and Javan had spent every ounce of his considerable willpower becoming a worthy heir to Akram’s crown. The look of pride he’d finally see on his father’s face would be his reward.
The thought was both exhilarating and somehow terrifying.
“Move over. Let me have a look.” Kellan shouldered his way to the window frame and gave an appreciative whistle. “The headmaster went above and beyond with security this time. I guess he’s still worried about that Draconi returning. Look at this! Royal knights, trained wolves, and an entire contingent of elven archers wearing black patches with a constellation insignia on their left shoulders.” Kellan’s eyes were lit with excitement. “Those are dark elves, Javan. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to meet one? Let’s go introduce ourselves.”
Javan shuddered. “So they can poison our minds with their magic and use us as slaves? No thanks. The only good elf is a dead elf.”
“I’m sure these must be safe elves. Why else would the headmaster allow them on the grounds?”
“Safe elves.” Javan snorted and looked over Kellan’s shoulder as the security forces began spreading out to cover the academy’s grounds. “There’s no such thing as a safe elf. Maybe if your people had been captured and enslaved by those monsters like mine were, you’d understand. The only reason they’re here is because the headmaster needs something that can kill a Draconi in case the dragon comes back, and the city’s baron is hosting a contingent of dark elves from the northern land of Ystaria. The elves are visiting Loch Talam to convince the king and queen that the peace treaty they recently signed is solid. What better way to assure them of the elves’ good intentions than to voluntarily protect the academy the king’s children attend?”
“How do you always know everything?” Kellan demanded as he turned from the window to grab his commencement robe. “It’s annoying. Useful, yes. But annoying.”
“Because while you were out constantly looking for new and creative ways to kill yourself on some ridiculous adventure, I spent my time listening, observing, and learning.” And if that sounded just a little bit boring, it didn’t matter. Javan hadn’t been sent to the academy to have fun.
“I’ve don
e plenty of listening, observing, and learning. Which is how I know that the girls from hall six will be celebrating at the Red Dwarf tonight.” Kellan wiggled his brows, and Javan laughed, though his eyes were once again drawn toward the sky.
“Hey!” Kellan snapped his fingers in front of Javan’s face. “You. Me. The girls from hall six and some of the best whiskey in Loch Talam. You’re coming, right? It’s your last night.”
Javan hesitated. What would it feel like to laugh and linger and not worry about his studies? This one night was all he’d get. Once he returned to Akram, he’d assume a new set of duties. A new routine that would bind him to a set purpose the way his father’s instructions had bound him to his tasks at Milisatria.
At the thought of his father, Javan’s smile slowly disappeared, and he drew in a deep breath.
“I know that look.” Kellan folded his arms over his chest.
“I’m sorry. My father will finally be at Milisatria tonight. It’s been ten years since I’ve seen him. I can’t go anywhere.”
“My mother will be here too. That’s why we’re sneaking out after they settle into the guest rooms for the night.”
Javan scanned the horizon while he searched for a way to explain his refusal. His gaze lingered on the craggy rock hills in the distance. He couldn’t find any sign of the dragon who’d attacked him, but still a queasy sense of dread pooled in the pit of his stomach.
“Javan, are you coming with us or—”
Regret filled him, a painful weight that bowed his shoulders. “I can’t. If we were caught, my father would think . . . It would cast doubt on everything I’ve accomplished. I’ve worked so hard to make him proud. I’m not going to risk losing that.”
Kellan said nothing.
Turning away from the window, Javan shrugged into his sky-blue commencement robe and lifted the crimson sash. Once the dragon had disappeared in the distance at the previous day’s competition, the headmaster had awarded the sash to Javan for arriving at the meadow first. The prince had offered to defend the sash from the other competitors, as was proper, but his friends had unanimously declined. Something about not wanting an arrow in their eyes.
“Look at you, wearing that red sash.” Kellan’s tone was easy, as if Javan hadn’t just turned down the last invitation he would ever issue, but his gaze was thoughtful. “You’ll be drowning in fair maidens by the end of the ceremony. I will, of course, graciously offer to dance with a few of them just to give you some breathing space.” Kellan winked at Javan as he flung his own golden sash—the standard color for all graduates—around his shoulders.
Javan rolled his eyes. Approaching the room’s looking glass, he smoothed the crimson fabric that was draped over his neck, its beaded ends hanging even with his waist. “I’ve never once been drowning in fair maidens.”
“That’s because you’ve always ignored them in favor of studying. Now that you no longer have to constantly bury your face in a book, you’ll finally have a chance to impress a girl.”
Javan stared at his reflection for a moment, searching for pieces of his parents, of his heritage, in his face. He found his father in the arch of his cheekbones and the tilt of his chin. Saw his mother in the line of his jaw and the slight curl to his hair. Felt the deep ties of duty and faith they’d instilled into the very fabric of his being. He was every inch their son, inside and out, and tonight his father would see that for himself.
Javan tied his shoulder-length black hair back with the ceremonial zar’ei his father had given him, his fingers lingering over the strip of leather with its narrow band of inlaid garnets—his mother’s birthstone. She’d grown hazy in his memory, the passage of time breaking her into bits and pieces. Her laugh when they’d walked through the citrus grove, plucking lemons from the trees. The way the sun had gleamed against the roses in her cheeks. The smell of honey and jasmine that didn’t have an image attached to it but felt like home all the same.
If earning his father’s pride meant the world to Javan, then sending his mother to her peaceful rest by fulfilling her wish was the sun, the moon, and the stars.
Kellan looped an arm around Javan’s shoulders and grinned at him. “Ready?”
Javan met his friend’s gaze. “Ready.”
Ordering his knotted stomach to relax, he moved toward the door, Kellan close behind.
He’d done everything that was expected of him and more. He was going to stand on the commencement stage wearing the crimson sash, proof that he was capable of ruling in his father’s stead when the time came, and he was going to see pride on his father’s face. Something soft and bright glowed in his chest at the thought of it, and Javan smiled as he stepped out of the room and made his way toward the academy’s performance hall.
The hall was crowded. Rows of chairs in neat, horizontal lines faced the stage that occupied the north wall. Parents, siblings, and extended family filled the aisles, hunting for seats and scanning the graduating students—who sat quietly on the stage behind the headmaster—looking for their own child.
Javan stood to the right of the headmaster, slightly in front of the first row of students. His place of honor for being the top of his class. He kept his body still, his chin lifted, but his heart thudded painfully against his rib cage as his gaze skipped from one family to the next, searching for his father.
Would the king’s shoulders stoop now? Would his long black hair have silver running through it? Twice, Javan was sure he’d seen him, but both times he’d been wrong. By the time the crowd was seated and quiet, the knots were back in Javan’s stomach, and he’d given up pretending that he wasn’t actively looking for his father.
The headmaster’s voice rumbled beside Javan, filling the room. Candelabras moved gently in the breeze from the bank of open windows to the west, their shadows dancing along the floor. Javan strained to see every corner of the room, his eyes racing from one row to the next until he forced himself to slow down and methodically look at every person seated before him.
His father wasn’t there.
The headmaster spoke Javan’s name, and applause filled the room, but Javan couldn’t find the will to force a smile. His chest ached like he’d run the entire perimeter of the academy, and the knots in his stomach had turned to stone.
He hadn’t come.
Ten years. Ten long, arduous years of sacrifice, duty, and honor. And his father hadn’t bothered to show up.
As the ceremony ended, and the crowd surged toward their children on the stage, Javan turned on his heel and walked away. Through the clusters of parents and grandparents, their smiles and tears salt on a wound Javan had never expected to be dealt. Past the pair of dark elves that stood sentry at the ballroom’s west entrance without sparing them a glance. Over the lush green lawn of the academy proper and onto the cobblestoned road that led away from the academy.
There he stopped as the sun sank into the western sky, a ball of fire disintegrating into darkness.
“Javan!” Kellan’s shout came from behind him, but Javan didn’t turn.
He’d spent a decade with the single-minded purpose of honoring his mother and earning his father’s regard. What was he supposed to do now?
Kellan came to a stop beside him, and they stood in silence for a moment. Finally, Javan said, “He didn’t come.”
The words were ashes in his mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
Javan didn’t want to be sorry. He wanted to feel like what he’d done mattered. He wanted to smile and laugh and feel better than the boy who’d been left behind and then forgotten.
And he knew exactly how he was going to do that.
The ache in his chest became a flame of anger as he turned toward Kellan and said, “Is the invitation still open?”
Kellan blinked. “If you’re referring to girls, whiskey, and dancing, then, yes. Of course it is.”
Javan glanced once more down the road his father’s carriage should’ve traveled and then turned his back and met Kellan’s gaze. “I’m in.�
�
FOUR
THE RED DWARF was a low-slung gray brick building on the southern edge of town in the middle of a warren of crowded, twisted streets and narrow alleys. It had taken Javan, Kellan, and five of the girls from hall six nearly an hour to walk there. The slender fingernail of a moon did little to illuminate the roads, but the street lanterns were still lit, and there were plenty of people moving through the town in carriages, on horseback, or on foot.
Kellan and Javan had flanked the girls as they walked, their hands resting on the hilts of the daggers they’d strapped to their waists. Three of the girls had daggers too. None of them mentioned the dragon who’d attacked Javan, but they’d spent much of the hour-long walk craning their necks to examine rooftops and skylines, just in case.
The fact that they’d made it to the tavern without incident was slightly reassuring. If the Draconi had been acting alone, the injury it had sustained had kept it from returning. If someone had sent the dragon, the security on the academy’s grounds had kept any further threats at bay. Javan wasn’t sure how that would also keep the students safe when they left the academy’s property, but perhaps the headmaster had employed extra security throughout the town of Abhahan as well.
Javan shoved thoughts of the dragon to the back of his mind as he approached the tavern. Tonight was his chance to see what he’d been missing all those years of turning down invitations so he could study. His chance to have fun without worrying that he would somehow disappoint his father.
His jaw clenched tight, and he reached for the tavern’s door handle.
It was hard to disappoint someone who didn’t care enough to show up for the most important moment of your life. The fact that the headmaster had received a message that the royal coach would arrive to collect Javan in the morning was somehow worse than being forgotten completely. Maybe Uncle Fariq was wrong. Maybe the king’s letters had grown impersonal and infrequent because Javan had become nothing more than another duty in a long list of responsibilities weighing on the king’s shoulders.
The Traitor Prince Page 3