Seventeen
Rohan
“There are dragons below the castle,” I tell Sigrid as we stop near Celeste.
It’s been one day since Halen took my Little Whisperer, and I already feel like I’m losing my mind.
The furs are cold without her, my mind unfocused, my mood deadly.
What is she doing? Is she safe?
Has she been forced below to the dragons? Or has she been made to do something else?
Sigrid’s dragons eye me warily, like they aren’t sure when I will explode.
They have no idea how close I really am.
“Are they from the dragon eggs?” she asks, blade in hand.
“They must be, how else does he have them?”
“Have you told anyone?”
I shake my head. “My council, but that’s it.”
“Because we don’t know which Dragonbond we can trust.”
My jaw ticks. “Exactly.”
She raises a brow. “Yet you trust me?”
I fold my arms, looking at a green dragon next to Celeste. Uncomfortable.
“Odette,” she says, nodding to it. “Are you going to answer me?”
My nostrils flare. “Alara mentioned that I should try and talk with the Dragonbonds more, you seemed like the obvious choice.”
She stares at me, and then nods. “I want the king’s head as much as you do. I want revenge for my dragons, my clan, those who are dead or alive.”
“I know.”
“The question is, how do we find out who’s betrayed us?”
“Alara,” I say without thinking. “If she walks among the dragons here, she could tell if something was off. She has a way with them like no other does.”
“I’ve noticed.” She strokes her bonded and Celeste purrs. “Celeste was comfortable around her instantly. That counts for something.”
“It should.” I look back as Escor watches me, face pressed against the bars. Drogonah stares at us next to him. “What do you know about Darcia being in Karag’s clan?”
She eyes me. “Word has it the king placed the sniffling hag there.”
“Why?”
She shrugs. “My guess is she’s no longer useful to him.”
“You may be right. She told them all about us, so why is Karag giving her space there?”
“Maybe he was forced to. You know we have no choice what we do here,” she says, eyes full of anger.
“You may be right, but there is no stopping us from killing her. Halen would love to know we’re fighting outside of The Games.”
“That is true,” she muses. “But who gives a fuck what he thinks? Want me to get her for you?”
I tilt my head. “You would risk the wrath of Karag?”
She lifts a shoulder. “What’s a brawl amongst Dragonbonds? We haven’t had one in a while.”
“We’ll no doubt get one in The Games,” I say, fingers twitching with aggression. “I told her if I see her again I’ll break her neck.”
She laughs. “Are you a man of your word, Rohan?”
I look back up the hill to the gate that separates the clans from the dragons.
“We shall see, won’t we?”
A squawk comes from above, the exact signal I’ve been waiting for.
“Is that a… raven?” Sigrid asks, brows furrowing.
“Yeah. I have to go.”
I turn, but she grips my arm. I freeze, staring down at it until she lets go.
“Why is the prince’s raven here?”
“It doesn’t concern you.”
She looks at me sharply. “You’ve never bothered with him before when he hangs around here.”
I look to the raven and back to her.
“Because he’s never had something I’ve been interested in before.”
She puts her hands on her hips.
“Is it to do with Alara?”
I look at her, hearing Alara’s voice in my head about talking to the others, trusting them.
“Yeah,” I confirm.
“Go on then, don’t be late.” She shoos me off, turning to her dragons. “I’ll pay a visit to Darcia on your behalf before you get to her.”
During The Games, Dragonbonds are allowed to roam the city freely, but, if a clan member is found alone without a Dragonbond, they’re taken back to the Enclave in holding cells and then executed.
Halen allows us to roam the city in the first place because he likes to give us the illusion of freedom, when really, we are under watch constantly. The other reason is the city’s people can hurl abuse at us without consequence.
I bet Halen and his lords all sit around their tables laughing at the abuse the Dragorie endure as they walk these cobbles.
Like now.
A man with scraggly hair spits at my feet where I walk, snarling. “Barbarian,” like it’s an insult as he passes by.
I can’t hurt him, can’t kill him. The consequences of that is one of my clan members dying in my stead for the crime.
So the city folk love to exert their power in the safety of their walls because they wouldn’t dare do it if they came across the Dragorie out in the lands.
We would kill them for it.
My skin crawls with the need for violence and blood. To show them how weak they all really are.
How barbaric I can be.
A woman walks past, gasping at the sight of me and I let loose a feral grin, and she runs off screaming.
She can run, but she cannot escape the fire that will come for her one day.
I walk down the main street, seeing the sign for the tavern a little way ahead.
The Dusty Pig has all manner of people within it.
The poor, the criminal, the guards, the whores, the lords and ladies in hiding.
And the one rule?
What happens here, stays in here.
I enter, faces turning toward the door and scowling in my direction already.
The bartender, a man with a scruffy beard, frowns, not liking my presence as he shoos off one of his girls.
I walk past them all, noticing a man has one of them up against the wall. She giggles before taking his hand and leading him up the stairs to get her coin. A group stands at the side, the king’s emblem shown on their armor, proud to be guards of Lothmere.
My lip curls at them before I search the back corner, spotting a hooded figure sitting there, the fire roaring beside him even though it’s summer.
I go to him, listening to the murmurs and the insults at my back as I do.
My axe has never felt heavier, and my fingers itch to take it and split their heads open.
Reaching the table, I pull out the chair by the fire and sit. Legs spread, arms folded. My gaze on the room.
His back is also to the wall, giving us the full view of the Dusty Pig’s patrons.
“Well,” I say, scanning the crowd.
He huffs, taking a drink. “You were never one for manners.”
“I don’t care for manners, just answers.”
“You are surly, brother.”
“Half,” I grit out, not even bothering to look at him as I watch a blonde male sitting on another, his hips rocking against him, hands in his brown hair, and yet his eyes are on me.
I raise a brow at the blonde, and he blushes, looking down and kissing the man.
I keep my eyes on the others, watching for any sudden movements.
You can never trust them not to shove a knife in my side at a moment’s notice.
That’s right, they can stab me all they want, they won’t be punished for it.
I can’t kill them, but I can hurt them…
Alexandar sighs, face concealed in his hooded cloak.
“I made contact with the elven people as our father requested.”
“Not my father.”
“As my father requested,” he amends. “And they’ve agreed to come to Dracozar.”
My jaw ticks. “Under what terms?”
He pauses. “You don’t need to know that.”
I look at him then, glaring.
“You want your father gone, I want to see his insides on his outsides. I agreed to help you.”
“I am helping you,” Alexandar growls, and I raise an eyebrow.
Seems he has a backbone after all.
“Do not mistake our… cooperation for weakness, brother,” he says quietly, and my jaw ticks. “We’re both getting something out of this, and we’re both making sure it works before we’re killed.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” I hiss quietly. “How can I trust you, huh? All of a sudden you want to help me and see your father dead?”
His gloved hand tightens around the mug. “I have my own reason as to why I want him gone. My reason doesn’t matter, only my conviction that I’m all in.”
I look away, tensing. Unsure.
I loathe that he’s the one I have to work with here… but for Alara…
“When do they come?”
“The elves should arrive in a few days. They had issues with father not responding personally to letters so they were delayed. I’ll speak to them or one in particular on your behalf about getting her to the elven lands.”
I nod. “And if they refuse?”
“She won’t.”
She?
I eye him. “So sure?”
He lifts his head to assess me, one eye a dark blue, the other gray. “I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t sure it would work. You’re not the only one who has something to protect, Rohan.”
I observe him.
The tightness around his eyes, the way his jaw tenses, his hand still clutching the mug.
Can I really trust him?
Do I really have a choice?
“I’ll make sure to do my part,” I tell him.
Which is to kill the king the moment I get a chance to.
“Another?” a woman comes over, more jugs on a wooden tray.
“No,” Alexandar says as I stare at her.
Her expression falls, but then a smile spreads across her face, a sultry one. “What about something more… private?”
“No,” he says again, and her eyes come to mine.
I see fear there, but that doesn’t stop her from leaning closer.
“And you?”
“Go away.”
She seems startled at that, huffing.
She pouts, and I look at the shape of her mouth in disgust.
The only one who gets to pout at me is Alara.
“No need to be rude.”
“I don’t want to breathe near you, never mind fuck you, city girl. Go away.”
She scowls, but she does turn, walking away to another man, who greedily takes her up on her offer.
“Not your type?” Alexandar asks.
I grunt. “Not my anything.”
“Ahh, you have your elf.”
My eyes fly to his. “Watch the next words that come out of your mouth if you want to keep your tongue.”
He grins. “I see.”
“You see nothing.”
“I see more than I need to,” he mutters. “My uncle will rule when my father dies,” he says suddenly.
“I don’t give a fuck who rules. As long as they leave the Dragorie and the dragons alone, we won’t have a problem.” The threat in my tone is clear.
“I couldn’t give a shit about the Dragorie,” he snarls, eyes flashing, and thunder rumbles the skies outside.
“See to it that it stays that way,” I warn.
We eye each other a moment longer.
“Father has had his time as king, enough is enough.” He says darkly, taking another drink. “His time has come.”
“And I’ll make sure the deal stands.”
“Like the deal you made last time worked out?” He has the nerve to say.
“The deal I made with your father was made with the intention of getting as close to him as possible without having Nighturn pointed at me.”
He looks straight at me then, and I hold his gaze.
“Very well.” He stands, leaving some coin on the table. “Have a drink on me, brother. You’re going to need it for what is to come.”
I watch him go, apprehension slithering down my spine.
This could be a trap, just a way for me to be punished and get caught red-handed.
But if this is how I can keep Alara safe. It’s worth the risk.
It has to be.