Chapter 34
Chapter
Thirty-Four
Remy grabbed my hand through the thick haze of smoke, his grip firm despite the blood still dripping from his shoulder. “Come on!” he barked, dragging me with him.
We sprinted through the chaos, lungs burning, the flaming tavern collapsing behind us in a roar of fire and splintered wood. Katama gave a final furious screech before he launched into the sky, massive wings kicking up a cyclone of ash and smoke as he vanished into the clouds above.
The streets were pure chaos.
People screamed and scattered, fleeing from the blaze. Some carried children, others dragged carts or bags of belongings, though most just ran. The choking smoke poured through the alleyways like a monster devouring the village, curling black and thick around every corner.
Vendors abandoned their stalls. Horses bucked and pulled free of reins. A woman shouted something about a curse.
And still, we ran.
My legs burned as we pushed forward, dodging a fleeing drunk, vaulting over an overturned produce cart. Remy never let go of my hand.
There were droplets in the air now—soft at first. Cooling. Cleansing. A slow, steady drizzle that began to fall as we neared the outer gate to the castle courtyard.
Rain.
I almost sighed with relief.
The moment our boots hit the stone courtyard, a gust of wind blew the ash from my eyes and the heavens opened, a full, firm downpour.
I tilted my face up, letting the rain wash the soot and blood from my skin.
Then we were met by steel.
A guard stepped forward from beneath the gate arch, flanked by two others, their cloaks soaked but their stances rigid. His eyes scanned us, Remy’s blood-soaked tunic, my dirt-streaked skin, the smell of smoke clinging to us like a second skin.
“The king,” he said without preamble, “wishes to see you both.”
My heart dropped.
Without a word, they turned and began to lead us through the courtyard, toward the looming doors of the castle, rain thundering around us like a warning.
The rain still clung to my skin as we crossed the polished marble of the castle foyer, the guards’ boots echoing like war drums through the vaulted corridors. The moment we stepped beneath the arched entrance to the royal court, I yanked my hand from Remy’s.
He hesitated but let me go—reluctantly, like parting with something he wasn’t ready to release.
I didn’t look back.
The massive chamber opened before us, lined with towering pillars and glass mosaics that shimmered with the moonlight beyond. At its center, elevated atop three steps and framed by silk banners, sat the throne.
And Theron sat upon it.
Clad in dark-navy and obsidian robes stitched with gold thread, he lounged as if he were born to rule, one leg draped lazily over the other, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, a wolfish smile curling his lips.
Remy arched a brow. “That’s a little presumptuous, even for you, Theron.”
Theron rose slowly, his magnificent robes swirling about him like a storm given form. “Don’t give me your back talk, Remy. I supported your endeavors, even when you lost your way.”
His eyes slid to me then, sharp and appraising.
“She seems to have a knack for making men fall for her,” he said smoothly. “She must be a spectacular lay.”
I flinched at the venom beneath the silk of his words.
Remy took a step forward, fury sharpening his face. “Watch your mouth, Theron.”
“Oh? Did I strike a nerve?” Theron smirked. “You forget your place far too often for a man with little blood.”
“You forget yours for a prince who can’t ride a dragon.”
The chamber stilled.
Theron’s smile vanished, and his voice dropped cold and dangerous. “I could have you executed for that.”
The words hung in the air like a blade waiting to fall.
Then the chamber doors creaked again.
The king wandered in, eyes unfocused, beard slightly damp from the rain. His robe trailed behind him like a shadow torn from its master.
He looked lost, until his gaze landed on Remy.
A bright, boyish smile spread across his face.
“Remand! What are you doing here?”
Remy turned to him, his expression softening, like muscle memory had taken over. “Just being reprimanded by Theron. He wishes to execute me.”
The king chuckled, completely unfazed. “Ah, boys will be boys! Of course he’s only kidding. You’re pardoned of all wrongdoing.”
He waved a hand like he was blessing the entire court.
And just like that, the tension shattered.
Theron stood stiff, expression flickering with barely restrained fury.
And Remy… smiled.
The court regent could run the day-to-day demands of a kingdom, but he couldn’t counter the king’s decree.
The king blinked slowly, his expression vague as he looked around the throne room, as if he’d only just remembered where he was. Then his gaze fell on Theron, still standing a little too tall, a little too regal atop the marble steps.
The king’s brow furrowed. “Theron, why are you sitting on my throne?”
Theron descended smoothly, his robes whispering across the stone. “I was only taking care of business, as you requested, Father. I am here to serve you, as always.”
The king watched him for a long moment. Something in his eyes shifted, doubt, perhaps, or distrust, just a flicker, but it was there.
Then he nodded once. “Well, I’m here now. What happened?”
Theron gestured toward Remy with a slight flick of his hand. “He was interrogating a suspect, one who attacked him. During the altercation, his dragon intervened. The tavern was… demolished. It was set ablaze. The palace guard is still assisting the townsfolk in putting out the fire.”
The king considered this. “They should know better than to attack a dragon rider.”
Theron’s jaw visibly clenched. “Father, dragons are not allowed to—”
The king turned sharply, cutting him off with a wave of his hand. “Dragons do not serve at our whim, boy. They have their own rules. Their own oaths. If a dragon finds a rider worthy, they will protect him at all costs.”
The air chilled.
“You would know this,” the king added, voice clipped and cool, “if a dragon had chosen you.”
The slap in his words echoed louder than any shout.
Theron’s face went still, pale and furious beneath the weight of the rebuke, but he recovered quickly, schooling his features into a careful mask.
“Of course, Father,” he said smoothly. “Remand will not be held accountable for Katama’s actions.”
I stared at the king, my heart thudding. There was a clarity in his eyes now, sharp and focused, the haze thinning. Like being in this room, with us, anchored him.
He looked… more lucid than I had seen him in weeks.
And if that frightened Theron?
Then I’d stay in this room as long as it took.
The king’s gaze shifted, and then it landed squarely on me. The force of it felt like a stone pressing against my chest.
“If you were not a rider,” he said, his voice stronger than I remembered, “and Remand hadn’t vouched for you personally, I would have had you court-martialed.”
My mouth opened, instinct firing to defend myself, but from the corner of my eye, Remy’s hand moved.
Stop.
He signed it low and sharp, fingers twitching with warning.
I swallowed the retort, steadied my breath, and said, “I am loyal to my dragon. Kaelith is my first priority.”
The words came before I’d even realized I believed them.
The king tilted his head, studying me in silence. Then he nodded.
“As it should be,” he said. “She is an impressive dragon. Do not waste the gift you’ve been given.”
“I won’t, my king.”
It felt strange, saying the words—my king. The title had always burned on my tongue. I’d spent most of my life hating the crown, resenting the corruption, the silence, the way the system overlooked people like me. But as I stared at him now, I began to wonder—
Who is the real enemy here?
The king’s gaze turned distant, cold. “The Order is behind the attacks on our warders and nobles.”
My pulse stuttered.
Warders and nobles?
I glanced sharply at Remy, the question already forming in my mind. Nobles had been murdered?
Why hadn’t Zander mentioned this?
Remy tilted his head, just slightly. “Was a member of a royal house murdered? I was unaware of those events.”
So he hadn’t known either.
Zander wasn’t the only one being kept in the dark.
The king nodded gravely. “Yes. A few, but not in Warriath. We have kept these events quiet so we don’t alarm the nobility. But we can’t afford to lose the true bloodlines. Not now.”
The implications rolled through me like thunder.
Nobles were being killed.
Warders were dying.
And all of it… hidden.
Not to protect us.
But to protect a legacy.
And if the Order was truly behind it—
Then war had already begun.
And we were already bleeding.
Just as Siergen warned.
Theron’s gaze slid toward me, sharp and condescending. “Perhaps we should discuss these things in private. The girl is still a prospect. Her dragon could still reject her.”
Kaelith stirred in my mind, her voice like velvet lined with fire. I could also burn that royal imbecile in dragon flame and do the entire kingdom a favor.
It took everything in me not to laugh, but I covered my mouth and gave a convincing cough. The king’s lip twitched, just slightly, but I saw it.
He’d heard something like that before.
He’d lived it.
I hadn’t seen the king’s dragon, Eldarn, since the day after I joined the guild. A massive silver striker with wings like rolling thunderclouds.
Kaelith, I whispered through the bond, where is Eldarn?
He remains on the Dragon Isle, she answered solemnly. He cannot communicate with his rider due to the illness afflicting the king. It… hurts him to be so distant.
Her words coiled around my heart, tightening with something I hadn’t expected, grief. I suddenly wondered just how deep a dragon bond could go once the acceptance was sealed.
It depends on time, Kaelith said, reading my thoughts with ease. The human king has been bonded to Eldarn since he was nineteen years old.
I blinked. How old is the king now?
Seventy, she replied. He appears far younger, of course. Fae blood, and the bond, slow the decay of time.
The truth of that hit me. Fifty years of unity. Fifty years of shared strength, pain, power. And now… distance. Silence. Loss.
My thoughts spun, wondering what kind of magic could fracture a bond that old, when the king’s voice snapped me back.
He turned to Theron, the light in his eyes sharper than it had been all morning.
“I am still the king,” he said flatly, “and I trust a rider over any sophisticate.”
“Ouch,” I muttered under my breath before I could stop myself.
Kaelith chuckled. The king has always been entertaining.
Really? I asked.
You see him at his worst, she replied. Not the way Eldarn sees him. He has his… flaws, but his sacrifices have been many.
I blinked again, watching the tired monarch stand straighter, his voice now that of a man who’d once commanded armies. Who still could, if his mind were whole.
Theron bowed his head slightly. “I’m sorry, Father.”
But the apology was meek, his words soft and contrite, yet the fire in his eyes didn’t dim. If anything, it brightened.
The king’s gaze swept the room again, weariness returning to his face like a shadow.
“Did the patron escape the fire?” he asked, his tone directed at Theron.
And just like that, the room shifted again, who was the patron?