Chapter 13 #2
Tristan’s handsome features twist in a disparaging grin at her admonition. “General Ryson is the one who dictates these debriefings, Headmistress. With all due respect.”
Sure, right. All due respect.
No one believes a word falling out of his mouth even if Tristan tries to gild it with gold.
Harbi scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Oh, absolutely.”
Condescension drips from every syllable.
I tamp back on my own grin. Harbi just rose a few notches in my esteem. It counts for a lot. Then my awareness deepens, the intensity of my thoughts sharpening and expanding.
Pay close attention to whatever it is your cousin has to say. I have a feeling it’s going to be important, Mozi says.
There really is no need to keep reminding me. I get it. I’m not as thick headed as you think I am.
He hisses out a chuckle. You are exactly as thick headed if I feel the need to remind you.
I school my features into familiar apathy, one of my most treasured skills, while Tristan clears his throat and puffs his chest out like he’s the most important person in this room. For these purposes, he may be.
“General Ryson has captured another town,” Tristan begins. “Fallkirk was the beginning. Onassis has fallen but the spread of the insurrection is greater than we thought. He’s moved on to Duenden.”
My stomach sours. “Captured”—what a pretty word for slaughter.
“Was there any particular reason to target Duenden?” Harbi asks in a controlled tone.
Tristan clasps his hands together behind his back to mimic me. “Of course. We caught rumors that the town harbored the leader of the hydra packs. We were correct. We targeted the area and found him, effectively squashing his resistance attempt before it launched. It’s a massive coup for our cause.”
I stiffen and although Harbi’s gaze dips to me, I doubt she catches the slight movement.
There it is, out in the open, and no one is surprised. The real reason for all the attacks on these seemingly random towns. It isn’t merely to target those who verbalize disgust with the increased taxes.
One by one, the strongholds are falling. A systematic dismantling of every power that isn’t dragon. It’s part of a long-term strategy of destabilization in the kingdom.
I hadn’t thought he was so close to finding the hydra leader.
A majority of hydras joined Ryson’s cause but not enough. I’ve heard him say it countless times when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
Fallkirk went down because of the unicorns.
Duenden to the hydras.
I guess Onassis has something to do with the basilisk but nothing has been explicitly stated before.
And who will be next? Mozi’s voice carries an edge I don’t like. The thunderbirds are getting restless and even the basilisks are paying attention.
They better be. After what happened in Fallkirk? I toss back. Omram wiped out some basilisks and the hydra riders, not just the unicorns. If their strongholds are falling to mankind, does it have the same effect on the different creatures?
Mozi pauses. Meaning?
Are the other mounts falling to dragon rule the same as the humans will fall to my father?
Mozi refuses to answer.
I tune back in to find Tristan watching me cataloguing my reactions to the news. I’m careful to hide my disgust at my father’s actions, and my reactions to what Mozi says.
My head bobs in a curt nod. “This is good news.”
“What’s been done to the hydra leader?” Harbi wants to know. She brings her fist down on her thigh. “Roman will have much to answer for if he’s killed the man.”
“He’s been taken into our camp and given every accommodation befitting his station while the General attempts his peace talks,” Tristan assures the headmistress. “He’s being treated comfortably.”
Now that I highly doubt.
My father isn’t known for his generosity. Sure, the hydra leader might not be in chains but it doesn’t mean he’s comfortable or in good health. He can just as easily be treated comfortably with a missing limb or a concussion.
“What does Roman hope to accomplish in these peace talks? He’s certainly not bringing any of us into the conversation.
” Harbi sweeps out a hand to gesture to the others in the room.
“We’re getting our news second and sometimes third hand.
If our voices are worth anything to him, then we need to be part of the discussion before he launches another attack. Not afterward.”
Many of the professors in attendance have been a part of the fabric of DragonSpear for too many years to count. The academy is known for the influence it exerts over the land. Our training is paramount to the future of the kingdom.
Harbi sits at its helm, a much more benevolent dictator than Roman. The professors are her foot soldiers but whether or not they are entirely loyal to her is a different question. I’m too nervous to ask it.
This isn’t the right audience, anyway.
Mozi and I listen, straining for the information between the lines.
“He hopes to broker a new treaty between the dragons and the other mounts,” Tristan supplies. “There’s no need for outside influences to be a part of that conversation.”
Whether they want to be a part of it or not is purposely left out but implied.
Whatever is happening, I get the feeling that Roman and his dragon have much larger plans than they’re telling the others, including me. Whatever machinations they consider, they keep them to themselves. Without checks and balances.
“Roman knows better than anyone. True and lasting peace can’t be taken by force.” Harbi is on her feet an instant later. “At least, he used to.”
Tristan stares at her with unbridled disgust. “The General wouldn’t appreciate you questioning him this way. He requires loyalty above all else.”
“The General used to be a schoolmate of mine,” Harbi tosses back. “He understands exactly where we stand with each other.”
The two of them lock eyes in challenge and I know who will win. Tristan has no hope of making it out of this clash of wills without a small chink in his armor. Finally, he coughs to clear his throat and drops his gaze to the floor.
Harbi allows herself a single nod in recognition but she won’t sit again.
“How did he do it?” one of the professors asks Tristan. “Are you able to give us more details?”
“His superior planning and style of attack granted him a nearly unanimous victory. Our troops suffered hardly any casualties,” Tristan adds.
Like he needs anything else to fluff up his already inflated ego. Relaying the victory adds a layer of smugness I hate.
My fingers clench and release behind me. Every breath is a challenge I win but keeping them easy takes more work.
“And his treatment of his prisoners,” Harbi continues. “Has that been relayed to you?”
“They’re not prisoners yet,” Tristan hurries to correct. “But they will be unless they are willing to change their minds.”
We’re expecting these powerful leaders to take a knee without issue, and not for King Lochlain, but for General Ryson. I understand it and so does Tristan.
Judging from the tension on Harbi’s face, she does too. We’re all just pretending, in our different ways, to be okay with this.
“Where will he go next?” a third professor asks, shifting closer to Tristan.
Tristan’s shoulders are thrown far back and nearly dislocated. “It’s not for us to know right now. Once I’m made aware, I will pass on the information in one of these debriefings.”
In other words, he hasn’t been told either.
“Then this meeting is all but pointless.” Harbi brings us to a close. “I’m sorry for pulling you away from your respective duties.”
She flicks her fingers.
“Pointless?” Tristan chuckles.
“Yes. If there is no new information to be gleaned from Roman’s victory, then this could have waited for a more opportune time. Do you know where he plans to go next?” Harbi rapid fires her sentences.
Tristan scowls, and says, “We should hear—”
“No,” Harbi interrupts. “You do not. Until you do, then I believe we can hold off on more of these meetings. There seems to be no reason for your General to bring us into his confidence. So, Tristan, Kieran, back to your classes.”
There’s no good time for war. There is no good time to be told your father is the one responsible for the murder of thousands of people as he plucks the leaders off the board one by one. At the end of his game, there will only be him and his desires.
The harder I try to understand him, the further away I get. If his goal is domination, he’s well on his way to doing so, leaving only suffering and survival in his wake.
The two are intertwined.
Tristan knocks me out of the way and cuts out the door first. I let him. Mozi always says to pick your battles and rather than chase after him, I stop, drag a breath into my body until my ribs ache.
Duenden down. How many more to go?
And if the leader of the hydra pack fell to Roman Ryson, then what kind of hope do I have of winning? A shred. Nothing less. Certainly nothing more.