Chapter 14 #2
My father cants his head expectantly at the Channeler, and not one strand of his black-and-white hair has the courage to move.
The light from the windows illuminates the rich fabric of my father’s suit, making him look as though he’s glowing, something—I can tell by the glitter in Lorn’s eyes—my brother finds as amusing as I do.
“Sire,” Dowzer starts. “As guardians of the Source and servants of the realm, we have some concerns we thought best brought to your attention.” Dowzer’s olive-green gaze is deferential, but I know it’s a bald-faced lie.
“We waited after the Naming for you to call a meeting to explain what was going on, but your summons still hasn’t arrived, leaving us with no choice but to send one of our own. ”
Unease ripples through the room at Dowzer’s choice of words.
He’s tiptoeing dangerously close to admonishing the king, and that’s not going to go well for anyone in this room if he dares to cross the line.
The last thing my father needs or deserves is to be scolded by some silver-tongued serpent who covets the crown for all the wrong reasons and is throwing a tantrum because he isn’t getting his way.
My father pulls in a deep breath and interlocks his fingers, resting them on the table before leaning forward until he has everyone’s undivided attention.
“I have not sat down to provide additional intel on the situation because there wasn’t much to go on.
It’s not every day a kith rises from the ashes, and the discovery of Ever Tenebrae has required a cautious and sensitive approach. ”
The gentle rebuke isn’t lost on the dukes or the surrounding counts, and when my father is satisfied with their unspoken understanding, he goes on.
“This is what we know: The Syphon was born outside of Four Tiers as part of a program King Tenebrae implemented to bolster his dwindling kith. The program was secret, and it seems everyone who knew about it was killed in the rebellion.”
Shocked murmurs fill the room, and my father waits until it’s silent again before he continues.
“Ever’s mother died when she was young, and we all know what happened to her kith and kindred here in Four Tiers,” my father explains.
“I will not go into detail, as it is not my story to tell, but the young Syphon fell into the wrong hands and was severely mistreated. She only managed to escape recently, which is how she was found. Her trust doesn’t come easily, as I’m sure you can understand, and I would have liked to give her more time to heal and adjust to her new reality before Naming her, but a mate bond formed between Ever and Aeson, and for both of their safety, she needed to be brought into the fold. ”
If I wasn’t doing everything in power to keep my mask of indifference in place, I’d be staring at my father in awe.
Every single word he just spoke is true, but the way he’s strung the events together paints a very different picture of Ever’s existence and discovery than the one I know is accurate.
The king has offered his nobles answers that appease their curiosity and respect their rank, but he’s omitted and arranged things in a way that protects his best friend’s daughter.
I survey the surrounding drakes, taking note of every microexpression, twitch, slow blink, and hurried breath.
One or more of them betrayed their king and killed Ever’s kindred.
I don’t expect them to give themselves away, not here in this room.
They’re too seasoned, too good at covering their tracks and lying through their dragon teeth, but they can’t hide forever.
“Who had her?” Duke Bleddyn all but growls.
My father’s focus shifts back to Duke Dowzer instead of the Thrasher who posed the question.
“The Syphon was being held by blood brokers in Newden.”
Rage thunders through the room in response, and several drakes work hard to fight their volatile emotions and their shift. Growls and snarls are joined by outraged shouts and declarations to rip the perpetrators limb from limb.
“Where the fuck is Newden?” Duke Sato demands.
Dowzer’s eyes narrow into a glare, and he brushes a hand through his shaggy brown hair.
“It’s in my territory,” he grumbles. “But no one made me aware of her existence, or that the scions retrieved her from my territory, until after her Naming,” he defends, an edge of accusation in his tone as he looks at Lorn and then me before directing his scowl at my father.
“A decision I stand by,” my father announces boldly. “There was an active threat against the Syphon in your territory, Duke Dowzer. As such, action was taken to ensure the dragoness’s safety. I sent the best to bring her home.”
“How convenient,” Dowzer quips before he relaxes back in his seat.
“You just so happened to discover a dead line of dragons, one that poses a threat to your reign, no less. And once you recover her with no notice to the rest of us, she forms a bond with one of your sons. What a fascinating coincidence. Are we sure the Syphon has entered this bond with your son of her own accord and is not being forced into it?”
Molten fury consumes me and my gaze sharpens on the Duke. I’m seconds away from peeling the sanctimonious look off his face and shoving it down his noxious throat. The gold table in front of me grows hot, and I force my wrath and my affinity down before either can melt the relic.
The growls that explode through the room from the other dukes shake the stone walls, and the gold table begins to clatter against the floor from the resonant fury.
“You go too far,” Lorn warns the Channeler, who proceeds to hold up his hands in surrender with a contrite look that no one is buying.
“I’m only looking out for the best interest of a female. A powerful one, who’s shown up out of the blue to instantly bond with a scion. Yet she hasn’t been seen anywhere since her Naming and isn’t expected to answer summons from this Conclave or show proper fealty to our king.”
A scoff slips out of my brother, and I’m surprised he’s let his mask slip that much, not that I disagree. Dowzer lecturing anyone about fealty is the joke of the century.
“Don’t pretend others in this room aren’t wondering the same, even if they lack the spine to say it,” Dowzer goes on in an obvious effort to rouse support.
“If you were looking out for the best interest of anyone , we wouldn’t be in this position,” Duke Anjou snarls at Dowzer. “A Syphon was right under your nose all this time, being harmed by blood brokers active in your territory. You’re either incompetent or indictable—which is it?”
Dowzer growls a warning at the Render, and the hair on my arms rises in warning.
“I will not sit here and be accused of scheming or neglect when I’ve done nothing of the sort,” Dowzer defends.
“Where is her dragon mark? Are we sure we’re not all being played?” Duke Warrik interjects, and the ire mounting in the room shifts to him.
“She bears a dragon mark, and an Oric confirmed her lineage, not that anyone needs to do anything other than look at her to see the resemblance to Merik,” my father answers, his patience suddenly thin. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Warrik cuts him off.