Chapter 14
Aeson
MAGIC EFFERVESCES AROUND ME, THE sensation both revitalizing and restricting as I step through the jump portal.
Power hooks my center, and with a forceful tug, I exit into the private wing of the travel station designated for royal use.
I’m in a hurry, but the blissful kiss of fall welcomes me home, and I can’t help but close my eyes and savor it.
I fill my lungs with a crisp breath and instantly feel more steady than I have for days.
I’d almost forgotten that temperatures outside of broiling existed, or that there are seasons with conditions that don’t rival that of the sun’s core.
With a grounding exhale, I open my eyes and step away from the portal with Sondar and Ogdan close behind. My searching gaze lands on a waiting air gondola, but surprise flickers through me when I see Lorn leaning against the open hatch, decked out in a fancy suit and a well-honed scowl.
“What’s the emergency?” I demand, concern coursing through me.
“It’s less of an emergency and more of a problem,” he answers, nodding toward the air gondola. “The Conclave has called a meeting.”
We pile into the airboat, and I nod a greeting to the waiting members of my brother’s Wing.
Nils, Urser, Selik, and Razeer nod back, and then they take up positions around Lorn as he settles in for the short flight.
Ogdan plucks a stack of clothes from a seat and hands them to me, just as the gondola rises into the air and cuts a straight path toward the ivory towers of the keep.
“Which of the dukes called the meeting?” I ask as I examine the white suit I’ve been given.
I’m pretty sure I have sand embedded in my hair and lodged in nooks and crannies I didn’t know I possessed, but there’s no time for a shower.
I’ll just have to ignore the smudges of dirt I’m about to soil this suit with, and count on the cape and my don’t make me light you on fire glower to encourage others to ignore them too.
“All of them,” Lorn responds grimly, and I go still.
“All of them?” I repeat, shocked. “ All of the dukes called a meeting?” I repeat, as though saying it the first time wasn’t bad enough.
I study my brother’s face, but he’s already locked down in heir mode, and it gives nothing away.
“Fuck,” I mutter. All of the Conclave is more than just a bloody problem, it’s a disaster in the making. Trepidation hammers my thoughts in time with my pulse, and I work to calm both.
I hurry to pull on my pants and then withdraw my scale armor. It slips under my skin like a warm hug. A fluttering sensation moves through me until my armor settles, and then it dissipates and I don’t feel my armor at all anymore. I slip on my shirt.
“Did they give a reason for the meeting?” I ask, knowing they probably didn’t, but it’s unwise to ever assume anything when it comes to the dukes.
Lorn scoffs and brushes imaginary lint from his pristine snow-white suit jacket. “Of course not. You know they like their theatrics.”
I sigh, not in the mood to go head-to-head with The Horde’s nobility. I’m running on minimal sleep, and the loam hounds in the northwest quadrant are tracking something promising. I was hurrying there when the summons to King’s Keep arrived.
I thread one arm and then another into the suit jacket, pulling it on.
I adjust the cuffs of my shirt and roll my shoulders until everything feels like it fits the way it’s supposed to.
Ogdan and Sondar fasten my cloak in place, and just like that, I’ve gone from sand beast to Second Scion of The Dragon Horde.
I used to think it was stifling, the suits and the title.
Now, I don’t know who I’d be without either.
The peaks of Talon’s Reach flash by as we ascend each layer of Four Tiers, and I juggle the myriad of reasons why we’ve been summoned. Whether it’s about Ever and her kith, what’s going on with the Fae Gate, or something else entirely, I don’t know. What I do know is their timing couldn’t be worse.
My missing mate is a hair trigger for a lot of things right now.
My father has been strategically shutting down questions about Ever and how she ended up here.
We all wanted to see how the dukes would navigate that, who they would contact to find answers the crown wasn’t providing.
We were mapping their networks and hoping it would help to connect the dots, but we have next to nothing when it comes to answers. We need more time.
I rein in my frustrations and fix a mask of indifference in place.
Lorn gives me a nod as the gondola prepares to dock, moving next to me until we’re standing shoulder to shoulder.
Our suits aren’t identical, but they’re close enough.
Typically, I prefer an all-black ensemble, but the importance of conveying a united front to the nobles outweighs my personal preferences on fashion and the fact that I’m being pulled away from the most important hunt of my life. But they don’t need to know that.
Not wanting to risk any spies or eavesdroppers picking up on things they shouldn’t, Lorn and I don’t speak another word as we march through the halls of the keep.
When we approach the Conclave’s tower, our father and his Wing slip out of a hidden access point and join us.
We don’t waste time with pleasantries or warm greetings.
Each of us is engaged in important work elsewhere, and we’re all eager to get back to it.
We approach the doors, and I pull my shoulders back, lift my chin high.
The announcement of our arrival rings through the great room, and the swish of clothing, accompanied by the scrape of chairs, hails our entrance.
The five dukes that preside over the territories of Drameric, and the counts, all bow to their king.
Each of the Royal Wings remains outside the chamber doors as a show of trust and respect.
I see Ogdan in my periphery before the large doors to the room shut, and I move to take my place.
King Noctis claims his seat at the head of an ancient gold table that’s witnessed countless generations of kings and nobles discussing lives and land across its gleaming surface.
Lorn and I claim chairs on each side of our father, and I eye the glittering jewels embedded in the table’s surface while I wait for permission to sit.
My countenance is bored, and my wandering gaze is lazy as I take in the gathered dukes.
Next to me is Duke Bleddyn, head of the Thrashers, and next to him stands Duke Sato, who’s responsible for one of the two Burner territories.
On Lorn’s side, Duke Warrik, head of the other Burner territory, Paragon City, has weaseled a seat next to my brother.
Duke Anjou, head of the Renders, sits on the other side of the grasping weasel.
Duke Dowzer, head of the Channelers, stands opposite my father on the far end of the gilt table, and behind all of us are the eleven counts who serve individual dukes and their territories.
My father sits, and the rest of us follow. All eyes are fixed on the king, and a charged anticipation envelops the space. King Noctis surveys each of the drakes seated around him, in no hurry to alleviate the discomfort that rises with each second that he remains silent.
Duke Anjou clears his throat, and his amethyst gaze jumps pointedly from my father to the door. “We also summoned the Syphon. Is she expected soon?”
I keep my veneer of calm confidence in place, but I have to bite back a growl to do it.
I wasn’t aware they’d summoned her too, but at least that answers the question of what they’ve called us here to discuss.
My father doesn’t immediately answer, and I see it for the sign that it is to step in and do so myself.
“Ever Tenebrae is unable to join us for this meeting,” I respond evenly. “She sends her sincerest regards and regrets.”
Bleddyn snorts and then chuckles softly, and I want to roll my eyes at the Thrasher. “You know I can’t let you get away with that, Scion,” he teases, and I blow out a resigned breath.
“Fine,” I relent. “Ever Tenebrae is unable to join us for this meeting. She doesn’t give a shit about any of you and regrets nothing.”
I look over at Bleddyn, and he offers me a nod while his dark blue eyes dance with mirth.
“Much better,” he accedes, and the grin he’s wearing makes the lines of the dragon mark covering half his face curve, like they’re smiling at me too.
“And what exactly is she doing that’s more important than a summons from the Conclave?” Duke Anjou demands, and the small braids dangling throughout his long sandy-blond hair practically vibrate with offense.
I fix the Render duke with a hard look. “She’s?.?.?. recovering,” I supply.
Duke Warrik’s mouth tilts up into a faint smirk, and I have to stop myself from reacting to it in any way.
I knew they would infer what they wanted from that statement, but it doesn’t mean I like it.
In the end, if it keeps the nobles from circling my mate more than they already are, mission accomplished, and I’ll deal with any disrespect later.
“Why are you keeping the Syphon from us, Sire? It’s bad enough that none of us were told about her before her Naming, but now we can’t even address her as is our right,” Duke Sato asks, his sharp gaze studying me and my father in turn.
“She is not a toy to be passed around,” I snap at the Burner, and my father raises his hand to silence the room before things grow more volatile.
“I’ve given Ever my permission to miss this assembly. It is going to take time for her to heal and adjust, not only to her new bond, but to life here in general. When she is ready, she will speak to you. Understood?” my father commands.
The room is eerily still for a breath, and then several nods acquiesce to the order.
“Good,” my father declares, and then he settles his attention on Duke Dowzer. “Now, why have you called this meeting?”