Chapter 14 #2
I hesitate. I’m irritated about how little we’ve spoken these past days, about Briar and otherwise, but I know I need to tread carefully.
Before I can decide on a safe response, we're interrupted by a soldier racing up to us. He gives a hasty bow to his king, then casts an uncertain glance at me as he says, “I have a message from the Outer Guard, Your Majesty.”
I expect dismissal. To my surprise, Reave gestures for him to relay his message despite my presence.
“Th-There was a breach at the East District Gate,” he says, still catching his breath.
“We lost several soldiers. The assailants are now contained, and no threat to the city any longer…
but we think it might have been a distraction from their real target.
We're trying to track down a few suspicious figures we saw moving toward the palace earlier.”
“And our own perimeters?”
“Secured.”
“Well, secure them again. And make sure Commander Gareth is briefed on the situation; he should have returned from his business in Dunnal by now. I'll see to the security of the main gates myself.”
“Very good, sire.” With another hasty bow, the soldier hurries away.
Without a moment of hesitation, Reave starts toward the aforementioned gates at a brisk pace.
“Someone is trying to break into the palace?” I ask, jogging after him.
He cuts me a slightly exasperated look—as if he was hoping I wouldn't follow him—but he surprises me again by actually sharing information. “Your dragon has attracted a bit of attention, unfortunately.”
“Attention?”
“From filthy rebel groups who would rather see both you and the creature dead before either of you recognizes your power and potential. They've been increasing in number over the past few days, and it seems they're getting bolder now, too.”
I try to steel my expression into something fearless.
I don't think I quite manage it, because he quietly adds, “You're safe as long as you're within these walls. Don't worry.”
I nod, but I'm far from reassured. And it isn't just my own safety I'm thinking about—it's the larger picture. All the questions I can't seem to find answers to.
There is a reason the king needs you, Gareth said.
A reason that apparently makes me a target.
If Mouren is so blessed by the gods and their dragons, then why is my existence causing such upheaval? Is the power I supposedly represent really that much greater than what they already have? Is it really so threatening?
“The dragons gathered in the skies near the edge of the city…are they under your command?”
He slows for half a step, tension rippling through his shoulders. Maybe it's the poor lighting playing tricks on my one good eye, but I think I see something like unease flash across his face. He masks it quickly.
His voice is quiet but confident when he finally answers. “Yes; they serve this city. They have long protected it from harm, and they always will.”
“Even if these filthy rebels continue to grow in number and confidence?”
He doesn’t reply.
I grab his arm, jerking him to a stop.
And it happens again, just as it did the night we met: a twitch in his jaw, a flash of darkness in his pale eyes…and then an obvious, violent rippling of his muscles that’s accompanied by a wave of cold magic.
I swear it happens again, even though he’s back to his perfectly composed self in the next instant, smiling his typical slight, annoyingly handsome smile. No fangs in sight.
“You worry about your own dragon,” he says, calmly removing my hand from his arm. “You needn’t be concerned about the others—or my city.”
I'm obviously not satisfied with this answer. But he’s started to walk at a quicker pace, and before I can find the nerve to demand a different response, we've reached the main courtyard, where there are countless guards and officials rushing about; chaos unfolding in measured, military precision.
In no time at all, a pair of guards approaches the king and urgently requests his assistance.
He meets my gaze one last time. “Go back to your room. Stay out of the way. Stay…” He hesitates, pressing his lips together.
Whatever he just stopped himself from saying, I'll never know; someone calls his name, and he's walking away an instant later.
My body flushes hot, annoyed by his dismissal and the fact that I have, yet again, been left with more questions than answers. Not to mention, I feel like he should know by now that staying out of the way isn't exactly what I excel at.
For several minutes, I stand there watching the organized chaos building around me.
I look again to the distant sky, where more dragons are circling—too many to count now. The one that nearly attacked me is nowhere in sight, but I occasionally hear roaring, the sound oddly muffled among the clouds.
My thoughts are racing, an incoherent, tumbling river of questions and thoughts. But one word pounds loud and clear over all the other noise: Wrong.
And I swear it isn't just my voice repeating it over and over in my mind. There's a strange echo around that word, like someone else is thinking it alongside me. There’s a panic fluttering in my chest that feels too deep, too big to be mine alone.
I head inside and toward my room, as the king ordered, but that isn't where I end up.
Instead, I make my way through the palace, taking the most direct route to reach the coliseum behind it.
I move quickly, trailing my hand along the walls to help me find my way in the dim lighting that makes my bad depth perception even worse.
I pass several people, drawing countless stares, but I don’t slow down for any of them.
There are guards stationed at the entrance to the coliseum; there always are, given that it's now serving as a makeshift dragon enclosure, too.
I've previously seen figures moving along the rooftop as well, positioned with crossbows, ready to shoot anything that poses a threat.
I've never been in the arena without being escorted by Commander Gareth, or surrounded by servants, but I've also never been explicitly told I couldn't come here alone.
And King Reave did tell me to worry about my dragon, didn't he?
I march myself up to the guards at the entrance.
The two men exchange uncertain glances.
“The king has given me clearance to come and go as I please through here.” I make my voice as commanding as possible. “Unless you want to face his punishment, I suggest you step aside.”
They hesitate.
“Move,” I order.
I still don't think it's going to be enough—until Blight lends her own insistent roar, the sound nearly making them jump out of their armor, and I decide to try using our cursed bond to my advantage for once.
“I wouldn't keep a dragon from her bonded one if I were you,” I warn, darkly.
They exchange one last nervous look before shifting aside and allowing me to slip into the arena.
Blight settles almost the instant she catches sight of me, and now I'm certain of it: That panic I was feeling was hers.
And it was panic…for me.
Whatever is happening in the city, whatever threat is circling the palace walls, she seems convinced that I was in danger because of it.
She remains tense, even as I approach and tentatively hold out my hand, letting her breathe in her fill of my scent. Her frill is raised, her wings slightly spread. Her eyes keep darting to the open roof above, tracking shapes that I can’t see.
“We're safe as long as we're in these walls,” I tell her, repeating the king's reassurance. “Don't worry.”
But the words did little to reassure me, and they don’t seem to have much effect on Blight, either.
We pass a tense hour in each other’s company.
I can't leave her.
I try. Several times, I attempt to sneak away after she calms down. Each time, I'm struck again with her panic, her distress, her certainty that something terrible is about to happen to me.
“You ridiculous, dramatic creature,” I say, making my way back to her for the fourth time. It doesn't come out as harsh as I intended, though.
Because I don't think she's truly being dramatic.
Something is wrong, something is stirring in the darkness beyond these walls, and we both know it.
It feels like we're trapped in a fragile shelter while a storm is starting to build outside.
Like we're bracing for impact together. And, not for the first time, I'm at least glad I don't have to face whatever's coming alone.
So I decide to stay, settling down on the ground beside her.
Blight shifts closer, curling her body around mine.
I lean into her slowly, reluctantly.
And that's how I eventually fall asleep, hours later—with her warm scales pressed against my back, while the clouds roll in a strange wind and the distant roar of dragons echoes throughout the night.