Chapter 14 #2
Gregor hesitated, then lowered his voice even more.
“My friend said that when Erwan was born, Queen Grian’s maid had a vision.
She said, ‘One day, he’ll stand up against his father and make right what was wrong.
When the True Alpha rises, so will your son, and he will bring justice and honor and peace, but it will come at a price.
’ The queen placed a spell on her maid’s lips, but in her haste to prevent the king from finding out, she made a mistake and only made it valid until he was sixteen.
So when he turned sixteen, his father found out. ”
Oh god. Fergal had no trouble connecting the dots. Cladhaire had found out his son was not only a white dragon but a prophesied direct threat to him. “Why didn’t King Cladhaire kill Erwan?”
“Oh, he tried, but the queen’s magic is much more powerful than he ever realized, and she protected her son.
Other than killing him openly and directly, which would’ve created an immediate legitimacy problem for his rule, all Cladhaire could make were indirect attempts, and they never worked.
But he was convinced he could reverse everything with black magic. ”
“Such a fool,” Fergal spat out. “Aside from being despicable on every level for trying to kill his own son, he’s also a fool. As if something as powerful as a white dragon could ever be contained by mere magic, even dark magic.”
“Agreed. That prophecy must’ve really terrified him.”
“The True Alpha, that’s a wolf thing, correct?”
Gregor let out a sigh. “If we’re going to discuss all this, we’re doing it while you eat. You need a decent meal in your system.”
He picked up the landline phone—a system that had been considered modern once upon a time but now made Fergal smile with how antiquated it felt—and with a few quick words, ordered a meal to be delivered to Fergal’s study.
He would never have admitted it to Gregor, but he was, indeed, hungry.
Not even peckish, but full on ravenous, which was a first since his father and uncle died.
“Thank you,” he said, which made Gregor quirk an eyebrow.
“If you’re in a compliant mood, I have a few more things we can discuss,” he said dryly.
“Don’t push your luck. Let’s go back to our discussion about the wolves.”
“What do you know about that side of our history?”
“The basic facts. The pact between King Laoch and H?vding Olaf in 840, the fights after Laoch died that resulted in four clans choosing to honor the pact with the wolves, including ours. Then the Doyles unexpectedly reversed their position in 1778.”
“Correct. There’s a background story about that decision that not many people know because it’s not been widely reported.
In 1776, Seamus the Librarian had a vision when meeting with King Niall and his advisors, which included Cladhaire and Baoth, his sons.
At that time, the American Revolution was playing out, and they wanted to know what stand to take. ”
“Prince Erroll was fighting with the revolutionaries,” Fergal said. “You taught me about this. He was a white dragon.”
“There’s strong evidence he was, yes, though as always, white dragons are barely covered in our official histories.
The legends about them are far more prevalent than facts.
” Gregor paused for a moment, his eyes going distant.
“I’ve always regretted not being able to meet him. He must’ve been a sight to behold.”
Fergal couldn’t even imagine. For him, white dragons felt like legends, almost like fairytales. Just like the name Duff Bás had become synonymous with the boogeyman, white dragons were almost like angels, like the epitome of everything good and honorable. Almost too good to be real.
“Anyway,” Gregor continued, “during that meeting, a vision took hold of Seamus. He prophesied that ‘The dragons will be faced with the choice between honor and betrayal, and they must choose wisely. Old alliances will be reconsidered, with implications that will impact generations to come. But when the White Dragon and the True Alpha join forces, peace will reign.’”
Fergal sat up straighter and was about to respond when someone knocked on the door.
“Enter,” Gregor called out, and Valerie appeared, carrying a tray.
“Your dinner, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Valerie,” Fergal said as she put the tray in front of him. Tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich: his favorite foods. He hadn’t registered Gregor ordering those, but he must have, and Fergal was grateful.
As soon as Valerie had closed the door behind her, Fergal dug in. “Continue,” he said with his mouth full, ignoring the reproachful look Gregor shot him at that breach of manners. “You were about to tell me more about Seamus’s vision.”
After an almost imperceptible huff, Gregor spoke again. “At the time, those present interpreted this as applying to their times, and the problem was that they didn’t want peace with the British. They wanted independence, and thus for the war to continue.”
Fergal chewed thoughtfully. “But King Niall’s own brother was fighting on the side of the revolutionaries, so why would they think he’d suddenly change course and switch sides?”
“According to legends, white dragons always bring peace, so they feared he would indeed abandon the cause and thus the war. So in a move no one saw coming, King Niall abandoned the wolves. One must wonder what role his sons—Cladhaire and Baoth—played in this, especially since Prince Erroll died shortly after in the presence of both his nephews. They claimed he succumbed to wounds he’d suffered in battle, but no one has ever been able to corroborate that story. ”
Fergal’s hand froze halfway to his mouth, and he slowly put his spoonful of soup back down. “You’re suggesting Cladhaire and Baoth killed Erroll.”
“I’m stating that Erroll died in their company…and that a short time later, King Niall passed away as well, relatively young and by all accounts in good health.”
Jesus, so Cladhaire and Baoth had killed their own father, their uncle, and had tried to kill Erwan too—their own son or nephew. How could they live with themselves after what they’d done? “I don’t even have words.”
“The first time you break the Code, your conscience will judge you and convince you of the wrong you did. But the more times you do it, the quieter that voice gets, and ultimately, it will disappear.”
What a horrible, horrible thought. “Do you think…?” Fergal swallowed. “Was my father involved in any of this? Practicing dark magic, I mean?”
Gregor’s eyes softened, becoming almost tender. “I have never seen evidence of that. Did he violate the Code? Yes. We both know he did. Repeatedly. But not to that degree.”
Fergal wasn’t sure what made him ask, but the words were out before he could stop them. “And Peter?”
Gregor froze, his whole body stiffening, and his expression flickered for a moment before he went on full lockdown, mask in place and walls pulled up so high they might as well have been made of diamonds. “Why would you ask that? You know your brother was young when he died.”
“What does age have to do with anything?” Fergal refused to back down, meeting Gregor’s eyes dead on. “I know he wasn’t a good man.”
“I don’t want to talk about this. It’s not relevant to our discussion.”
Maybe not, but it was relevant to Fergal. What might’ve been a hunch when he’d spontaneously asked, now became something much stronger, a deep undercurrent that something was off there. Very, very off. Why did Gregor not want to talk about Peter?
But he knew better than to push, which would only reinforce those walls. He’d have to find out what Gregor was hiding another way. “You’re right. It’s not. Let’s circle back to the wolves and the True Alpha. What else do you know about that?”