by R. K. Ryals
My war with the grin was lost.
“Care to share the joke?” the prince asked.
I didn’t flinch beneath his gaze. “It’s the seagulls.” Madden and Ryon exchanged a look, and I blushed. “They tell bad jokes, Your Majesty.”
Cadeyrn looked up at the sky, at the birds that circled and then flew back toward the ocean.
“He worries about assassins,” the trees said from beyond the wall. “Tell him all is clear. The flowers see nothing within, and we see nothing here.”
“There is no danger at the moment,” I informed Cadeyrn softly. The prince’s gaze flew to mine, and I gestured at the castle wall. “The trees see nothing.”
“The trees,” Gryphon repeated.
Most of Cadeyrn’s personal guard knew I understood the wolf and the falcon, and they’d seen me yelling for the trees from the trade-cog. And yet, even after witnessing my affinity with nature, it seemed they found my communication with vegetation harder to swallow.
“She would know,” Daegan defended from behind me.
Maeve nodded. Lochlen said nothing. He was as different as I was. Cadeyrn’s people were more likely to rely on humans than a dragon.
I knew when Cadeyrn let down his guard because his shoulders relaxed. And yet, he still watched the wall and yard. He might believe me, but he depended too much on his own instinct.
“Forward,” he ordered.
We marched as a group toward the palace with the prince ahead of us, and his personal guard at our back. Oran stayed close to my legs. The people we’d traveled with across the desert had grown used to him, but the Sadeemians we passed now eyed him with fear and unease.
“It’s just so different,” Maeve mumbled in awe as we moved into the palace.
The walls were white stone and unadorned, the floors a glowing, polished marble that echoed as we walked. I’d seen marble before, but never to this extent. Marble was an expensive material, too costly to use in Medeisia even as close as we were to the mountains. The richest among our nobles utilized it sparingly in their homes. Here, it was everywhere. The entire hall was a reflecting mass of light that broke off in two directions. To the right, an elaborate white marble staircase led up to a second floor. To the left, the hall continued onward, opening up into a massive room. A picture glass window built into a vaulted ceiling threw more light over a large, golden throne. On it sat the king.
Servants in falcon-emblazoned blue surcoats stood along the walls, but I didn’t spare them a glance, my eyes focused on Sadeemia’s sovereign. King Freemont Horan Bernhart VIII was as intimidating as his name. Like Cadeyrn, he was large, his shoulders broad. He had light brown hair and a thin stylish beard. There were white streaks in his hair, but his face was remarkably unlined for a man who had ruled his country for fifty years.
The king’s eyes watched us as we walked, one hand massaging his temple.
“Son,” the king acknowledged.
Cadeyrn paused before the throne, going down on one knee on the marble. Around us, the prince’s personal guard did the same, their hands folded in front of them. Maeve, Daegan, and I followed suit. Lochlen and Oran remained standing.
“Rise,” the king ordered, his piercing gaze on Lochlen. “Tell me, Cadeyrn, who do you bring before me who dares show me such disrespect?”
Lochlen didn’t give Cadeyrn the opportunity to answer. “Lochlen the Gold, Your Majesty. A prince of dragons does not bow to a human ruler.”
Freemont’s hand fell from his forehead and moved to the arm of his throne. He clutched it. I was continually impressed by the Sadeemians’ level of self-control. The only outward sign that Freemont was disturbed by Lochlen’s announcement was the pale color of his knuckles as they wrapped around his armrest.
“A prince of dragons,” the king repeated, his eyes pausing on Oran, Daegan, Maeve, and I before moving to Cadeyrn, “a wolf, and a group of Medeisians. What have you gotten yourself involved in, son?”
Cadeyrn took a step toward the throne dais. “They are Medeisian rebels who have risen against their king. We discovered them traveling through the Ardus, en route to Sadeemia.”
The king leaned forward. “Rebels? Not refugees?”
Cadeyrn inclined his head. “Both. They come seeking an audience with the Sadeemian king.”
“And so they have one,” Freemont said, his eyes burning with curiosity. “Do you speak for them, Cadeyrn?”
Cadeyrn took another step forward. “I do. They have reason to believe their king intended to assassinate Gabriella of Greemallia and blame it on you.”
Cadeyrn was blunt and to the point. The king’s face went utterly still before he stood abruptly, his cheeks turning pink.
“Raemon seeks war?” Freemont asked. He looked at us again, his eyes narrowing “And we are to believe this on the word of discontent rebels?”
“Discontent ...” Daegan began, his voice angry, but I stopped him, a placating hand going to his arm.
“Not now,” I hissed.
Cadeyrn paid us no heed as he gestured at his guards. They bowed before ducking out of the hall.
“They had convincing evidence,” Cadeyrn stated. “It seems Raemon had a missive written to one of our men ordering the death of Gabriella.”
Freemont moved down the dais. “And you have proof of this?”
The end of the hall exploded in chaos.
“I indeed have proof,” Cadeyrn responded. He moved aside and motioned at the large, dark-haired man I’d seen on the wharf in Rolleen. Blayne Dragern. He hung now between two of Cadeyrn’s men, his eyes full of hatred. “I also have the man the missive was written to,” the prince added.
Cadeyrn pulled a piece of parchment from his tunic, unfolding it carefully. Right away, I recognized it. It was the one I’d written, the one I’d watched Raemon seal close with his broken dragon pendant. Cadeyrn must have found it amongst his uncle’s belongings. It was the first time I’d seen it since penning it inside the king’s study in Aireesi, and I stared at it.
“The missive.” Cadeyrn’s voice was hard as he held the document out toward his father, but King Freemont ignored it, his gaze locked on the prisoner.
“Blayne,” the king murmured.
The man’s head lifted, his angular face and high cheekbones eerie compared to his slanted eyes.
“I am no traitor, Your Majesty,” Blayne argued, his tone defiant.
Freemont took the parchment Cadeyrn offered him, staring down at it a moment before his gaze moved back up to his brother-in-law.
“This is not my handwriting. You know my handwriting, Blayne,” Freemont replied.
Blayne met the king’s gaze evenly. “I was coming to warn you myself before I was stopped by your son.”
Freemont’s gaze shifted to Cadeyrn.
The prince’s face remained hard and unrelenting. “My man Gryphon was sent ahead from Rolleen to intercept the Greemallian ship, which even now approaches our shores. He didn’t have to go far. The ship was already beginning to anchor off of Rolleen.”
The king glanced down at the parchment again. “Rolleen?”
“It seems Blayne had sent his own man days ago to intercept the ship and have its destination changed from Majesta to Rolleen,” Cadeyrn responded. “He had every intention of carrying out what was on that missive.”
The king’s gaze moved once more to Blayne. “You? My wife’s brother, a traitor?”
Blayne’s eyes narrowed. “Be careful, Your Majesty. It is not uncommon for second sons to rise up against their fathers. You see who he travels with. Who really wishes you ill? Me or him?”
The king looked down at the parchment yet again, his hand returning to his temple.
“The king of Medeisia cannot write in our tongue. I doubt he can even speak it. Who wrote this?” Freemont demanded.
Blayne laughed, the sound wicked. “Again, I warn you, Your Majesty. Who really wishes you ill will? By diverting the ship, I was merely protecting you. Your son travels not only with a group of Med
eisians, but with the same person who wrote the letter you hold now.”
Murmurs rose from the servants lining the hall as men I’d not noticed before stepped from behind the golden throne, their hands on their swords. The king’s guard.
I stood tall even as Blayne’s eyes moved to my figure. “The girl there. She wrote the missive while disguised as a boy named Sax.”
There was a swoosh as swords were drawn, and I stiffened as Daegan and Maeve flanked me, their eyes on the king’s guard. None of us had weapons, but the guards did. The light streaming from the window above our heads danced along their blades.
“And you would know this how?” Cadeyrn asked, his voice deadly.
Blayne laughed again. “Because, dear nephew, I have spies of my own.”
There was something else in Blayne’s tone, something neither I nor Cadeyrn missed. It was arrogance and victory. He thought he’d won, thought he’d one-upped the prince, and he was enjoying it.
Hands suddenly gripped me as Maeve and Daegan were pushed aside, swords at their throats. Oran growled as I was shoved to my knees on the floor, but I shushed him with my eyes. Lochlen did nothing, his reptilian gaze taking in the room.
“Let her up,” Cadeyrn ordered.
The king stepped off of the dais, his hard gaze on his son. “Have you turned against me?”
Cadeyrn stared at him. “If you believe that, Father, then you don’t know me at all.” His hand went to his sword before his eyes swept the men holding us captive. “You of all people have seen my power. I could take down every man in this room before they’d have a chance to nick me with their blades. I am quick with a sword, Father. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t need to go to the trouble of bringing you a bunch of ragged refugees. I have enough men loyal to me, I could do it on my own.”
It was then I noticed Gryphon, Madden, and Ryon with their own swords pulled, their eyes on Cadeyrn, and I knew they awaited his order.
Freemont stiffened. “Then explain all of this,” he commanded.
Cadeyrn lifted a boot, resting it casually on top of the dais’s bottom step, his hand playing with the blade at his side.
“I have long suspected trouble from Medeisia. You know this. These rebels are proof of that. There is unrest there. Much unrest. Raemon is marking anyone who has magical abilities as well as anyone who can read or write, especially licensed scribes. Each one of these rebels carries a mark on their wrists, a burning star for magery or a busted inkwell for scribery. The girl Blayne accuses carries both marks. She is also the daughter of Garod Consta-Mayria, the emissary I told you no longer resides in his hall, the one whose duties have been absolved. That alone is proof Raemon no longer intends contact with our country.”
Freemont climbed the dais and sat heavily on his throne. “So, Raemon planned to start war between Greemallia and Sadeemia ...”
“And in the process, take advantage of our weakness,” Cadeyrn finished. “He forced a scribe to write an order for Gabriella’s death. If Blayne intended to warn you, why intercept the Greemallian ship rather than return to Majesta?”
Freemont continued to massage his temple even as his eyes hardened. He motioned to the guards. “Take Blayne to the dungeons.”
“Release the girl,” Cadeyrn added.
Freemont stood again, his hand up. “No, the girl remains a prisoner.”
Everyone froze. My heart beat rapidly. The hands on my shoulders tightened, forcing my knees to press harder against the marble. It was uncomfortable even through the gown’s skirts. I could see my face in the floor. It was the first time I’d seen my reflection since leaving Medeisia. My face was thinner, my eyes wide and much bluer than I’d ever seen them. My dark hair was wild around my face, clinging to my cheeks. There was something terrifying about seeing myself. There was no fear in my gaze. There was grief and something deeper, something I’d never recognized. There was strength and influence, determination and resolve.
“Her power is great. Question that, Father,” Cadeyrn insisted.
The king’s eyes felt like a weight on my head. “She still committed a crime. We can’t be positive she wrote the missive under duress.”
Cadeyrn snorted. “You know what I’m capable of. She doesn’t lie. I would know if she did.”
“You’ve become too comfortable with your abilities,” the king argued.
“And if I have?” Cadeyrn asked. “I’ve learned to respect my abilities and trust in them. They have kept me alive for a long time, even when I’ve wished they’d let me die. This woman isn’t an ordinary rebel. She is the daughter of a nobleman, and she is the girl of prophecy. Call in your scribes because you are looking at the phoenix mentioned in the Book of Truth,” Cadeyrn revealed.
Freemont grew rigid. “The phoenix,” he breathed. “It’s not possible.”
Cadeyrn took a step toward me. “Do you not question why she travels with a wolf and a prince of dragons?” he asked. “She speaks to them, and she aids the dracon. She will bring peace to her people.”
I let my gaze move upward, my eyes finding the king.
Freemont’s face grew red. “At the cost of your life!” he thundered.
Cadeyrn stood still, unflinching. “What’s my life to peace?” he asked. “Her goal is to remove Raemon from power. He is a threat to us, whether you believe he is or not. I suggest we aid her in this endeavor.”
“We’ve removed the threat,” Freemont insisted. “You’ve ousted Blayne, and we know now to stay on alert.”
Cadeyrn stepped in front of his father, his tall frame looming over the king. “Raemon will be a risk until we remove him from power. This attempt on Gabriella is the opportunity to go to war on our terms.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Freemont asked.
Cadeyrn’s jaw tensed. “I am not wrong.”
His confidence was thrilling. It made me shiver, made his guards and the other rebels stand taller. Freemont gazed at us all, his eyes finally resting on me. I didn’t look away.
“So young to be so deadly,” the king said, his eyes hard. My heart froze, ice encasing it. Deadly. I wanted to clutch my chest but didn’t dare move.
“Take her,” Freemont ordered. “I won’t take any chances.”
The guards lifted me, jerking me to my feet as they forced my hands behind my back. I grit my teeth to keep from crying out as pain shot down my arms.
There was a roar, and I was thrown back down again as the men who held me dragged me across the floor.
“Do we kill it!” a man cried.
“Lochlen!” I screamed. “No!”
I knew without looking that he had transformed.
“Do it, and I will fight against you, Father!” Cadeyrn yelled.
The prince’s threat made everyone pause. Was he really so dangerous with a sword that his own people feared him?
I pushed myself off of the floor, turning to find Lochlen with his wings spread, his golden body lifted, his teeth bared. His massive frame took up most of the chamber, but it didn’t seem to impede him.
“You would dare rise up against me?” Freemont bellowed.
Cadeyrn’s sword was loud when he pulled it from its sheath. “To safeguard Sadeemia, I would.”
My guards had lost interest in me, their eyes on the dragon. It was then I noticed the dagger.
The guard next to me glanced periodically from the king to the dragon, his hand closing over a wicked looking blade shoved inside his surcoat. I stiffened as he drew it slowly, his gaze on Lochlen’s underbelly.
“Oran,” I whispered. I knew he’d hear me, even with my voice too low for human ears.
The wolf’s head rose from where he lay on the floor near Maeve and Daegan, his teeth bared.
“Cover me,” I ordered.
His dark eyes moved to mine before following my gaze to the guard with the dagger. The prince still argued with the king.
I went to my knees just as the guard drew back his hand, the dagger in his palm. Everyone was so distracted—by the dra
gon, the king, and Cadeyrn—they didn’t notice when I swung my leg out, cursing my skirts as I swept the guard off his feet. He landed with a loud cry to the floor, the dagger clattering to the marble. Rolling, I grabbed it just as Oran tackled the other guard, his gaping jaw opening over his throat. The man froze, his eyes wide.
I crab walked toward the chamber wall before using its support to rise to my feet, my knuckles white against the guard’s blade.
All eyes were now on me, weapons wavering as the king’s guard tried to determine who the bigger threat was, me or the dragon.
My breath came hard and fast as my gaze slid to the king. “If you allow any of your men to kill the dragon, your war will be with much more than Medeisia. I’ve seen the dragons’ king. I have bowed before him, and there is little mightier than he.”
Cadeyrn’s gaze locked on his father’s. “The dragon could destroy every man in this room with a single breath. He holds back now because he seeks the same aid the rebels do. Desperation makes the simplest men into warriors. It’s been too long since you’ve stood on your own battlefields, Father. Trust me when I say Medeisia is an enemy now, their king a bigger threat than any of us would like to admit.”
“His country is weak,” Freemont argued.
“And yet how often in history has the strong been felled by the weak?” Cadeyrn pointed out.
The king stood a moment in silence before he inhaled, the sigh deep as he lifted his hand.
“Stand back. No one will die today. If my son believes Raemon is a threat, then I will listen. We will convene in council on the morrow.” Freemont’s gaze flew to his son. “But though I agree with your assessment, I do not agree with you about the girl. I do not trust her. Remove her to the towers. She will be well taken care of there.”
Guards moved toward me, and I dropped the dagger, letting it clatter to the floor. My hands lifted so that Maeve, Daegan, Lochlen, and Oran understood I meant to go in peace. We needed the king’s help, even if it meant my surrender, my imprisonment. In the king’s mind, I was a threat to his son, and I could respect that.
Cadeyrn knelt suddenly, sliding his sword violently across the floor, the metal flashing as it swiveled, catching the guards by the legs. They fell onto their backs as Cadeyrn held out his palm, his sword returning to him as if it were called.