Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
Years later
“As your king, I command you to marry Shadow Prince Wraith and seal the peace treaty. Give me your word, as my heir, as my son, that you will marry him.” His father’s voice echoed in Konrad’s soul.
“I promise. I give you my word. I swear to you. I vow that I will marry Shadow Prince Wraith. I will obey you in this,” Konrad had begrudgingly said.
So Konrad would marry a necromancer. That was what he’d promised his father after having argued against it for so long.
And now Konrad’s father, Dragon King Alaric Drachen, lay on the funeral pyre. Stiff arms crossed over his chest. Black robes woven with bright gold-and-red thread, embroidered to look like flames, covered his unmoving body.
His father, the man who had been king of Draconia, was dead. And now Konrad was the dragon king, ruler of all Draconia.
How the fuck am I meant to be king?
He’d been training for this his entire life; still, he did not feel in any way prepared to lead his kingdom. What if he fucked up? What if he made a decision that harmed his people?
His whole life, he’d hoped to be a righteous king, one who would look after the people and lead them into a glorious and prosperous future. But the crown weighed so heavily on his head. And he had only been wearing it for a handful of days.
“It is with a saddened heart that we are gathered to mourn the loss of Dragon King Alaric Drachen.” The grand monk of the Way of the Dove stood in front of the funeral pyre. He wore robes of beige with a dove sewn on them. Copper chains hung around his neck.
The funeral was held out in a field, as was common for dragon funerals. Two large green dragons stood behind the funeral pyre, Senta and Gerard, Konrad’s siblings.
“Dragon King Alaric Drachen was a great and noble king,” Grand Monk Ferdinand said. “He took his responsibilities seriously.”
And now all those responsibilities are mine.
“King Alaric Drachen believed in the peace treaty, the reason for which we have gathered together at the White Monastery. He yearned for harmony between Draconia and the five kingdoms with whom they had recently been at war. He wanted a prosperous future for his kingdom.” The grand monk steepled his thin fingers together. “A peaceful future.”
But could the peace treaty really succeed? At present, everything was in shambles. After many attempts to undermine the treaty, as well as plots from many individuals against one another, Konrad worried it would fail.
The warring kingdoms had come together at the White Monastery to achieve peace. But these attacks had torn them apart. How could they manage a treaty when people kept trying to kill one another? After all, his father had been the victim of one of these plots.
As the new king of Draconia, Konrad needed to ensure a peace treaty was secured. This was his first duty as king. But could he really manage it? Did he know what he was doing? Or would Konrad fail and return them to war as soon as his kingship began?
They’d needed eight marriages to seal the peace treaty.
Eight royal dragons of Draconia would marry those from the other kingdoms with whom they had been at war.
But one couple had died the same night as his father.
Now they had to rush one more marriage through, fitting it in before Konrad married the necromancer, Shadow Prince Wraith.
And still, others worked in the shadows, plotting and threatening to destroy the treaty. Would they succeed? How could Konrad stop them, especially since he did not know who they were?
Grand Monk Ferdinand lowered his head. “King Alaric Drachen’s death was a tragedy. But we must not allow it to distract us from reaching our goal. The dragon king would not have wanted that. We must persevere, now more than ever.”
Konrad’s younger half-siblings had flown in for the funeral.
However, his aunt, the grand dragon warrior, and his sister, Liesel, remained in Draconia, running the kingdom.
There had been some talk of them coming, but considering how fragile everything was, it was decided they should remain in Draconia.
There had also been some discussion of holding the funeral in Draconia. But the grand monk had suggested it be held here at the White Monastery instead, saying the occasion would bring everyone together and perhaps renew the determination to finalise the treaty.
Konrad had been uncertain about that. But he thought that holding the funeral here meant his father’s killers might attend. It would give him a chance to examine everyone and see if anyone looked suspicious.
He gazed over those in attendance. They stood, faces sombre. But he could not miss the furtive glances, the whispers, and the mistrust lingering in everyone’s eyes. The attacks had everyone on edge.
He scanned the faces of those from the Grey Mountains, Botanial, Zephyrias, and Voltaria, all of whom had been Draconia’s enemies during the war that lasted twenty years. Despite that, he did not despise them with every fibre of his being.
No, he only felt that way towards one of their previous enemies, the necromancers of Necros.
His gaze turned towards them and fixed on Shadow Prince Wraith Grimm. Konrad’s betrothed. Konrad had had little to do with the shadow prince. But he was a necromancer. What more did Konrad need to know?
He’d hated the necromancers ever since he first fought them. That hatred had grown with every battle against Necros until it consumed him. Anton’s face flickered before his eyes. He gave a small shake of his head. He couldn’t think of that now.
Konrad had never understood why the necromancers wanted the treaty. The other enemy kingdoms had all been weakened by the war. The same was true for Draconia.
But the necromancers had not weakened. They gained strength from death. As a result, they’d been getting stronger as the war progressed.
Konrad had fought so many battles against the necromancers. Whilst Draconia had won some, they’d lost more. He’d never spoken the words aloud, but he’d doubted they could ever truly defeat the necromancers.
So why does Necros want peace?
When it became apparent that forces were working against the treaty here at the White Monastery, he’d assumed immediately it was the necromancers. Konrad had believed that without a shadow of a doubt.
He hadn’t thought of any alternatives. He’d not considered any of those from Botanial, the Grey Mountains, or Zephyrias, nor had he believed his own stepmother might be a threat. And as a result, his father now lay dead.
Konrad had been so sure, so certain in his gut that Necros was behind it all, he’d looked nowhere else, even oblivious to the threat within his own family. His father had even berated him for being too focused on the necromancers, telling him to keep his eyes and mind open.
Am I to blame for Father’s death? Was I too distracted, so fixated that it made me unable to see or consider any other threats?
If he’d been looking properly, Konrad might have seen the true traitors. But he hadn’t, and he’d failed. That failure had cost his father’s life. Now the treaty hung on by a thread. He stared at his father’s still face, frozen in death.
I’m sorry for failing you, Father.
He hung his head. And because of his failings, Draconia now had an inexperienced king in a time when they desperately needed a strong and competent ruler.
“We must continue to fight for peace, despite the horrors and setbacks that have been dealt us recently,” the grand monk’s voice echoed over the crowd.
“Some think peace is easy to come by. But that is false. It must be fought for. Sacrifices must be made. We must commit and strive for it with every inch of our being.”
The grand monk’s voice trembled as he spoke; he was clearly moved by his own words. But that was not surprising. After all, the Monks of the Way of the Dove had dedicated their lives to peace. “So take heart if you are wavering or have doubts. We must keep striving to make this a better world.”
Konrad still believed that the necromancers were evil. He still wished them all dead. His gut still told him they were the ones plotting against the peace treaty. But he could no longer trust his gut. After all, it had led him wrong previously.
The necromancers were abhorrent. Nothing would change Konrad’s opinion on that. But that didn’t necessarily mean they did not want the peace treaty to succeed. Nor did it make them part of some grand plot.
So for now, he’d obey his father and keep his promise. He’d marry a vile necromancer. He’d strive with everything he had to obtain peace for his kingdom and do his duty as king whilst trying to work out who was trying to stop the treaty.
That was all he could do for his father now. He just hoped he would not fail him again.
He scanned the crowd again, before finally resting his gaze on Shadow Prince Wraith Grimm once more. Most in the crowd stared at the funeral pyre, or at the grand monk. But the shadow prince stared in Konrad’s direction. But not at Konrad directly. He stared over Konrad’s shoulder. At nothing.
The skin on the back of Konrad’s neck prickled. Unable to help himself, he glanced over his shoulder. There was nothing there. He looked back at the shadow prince, who kept staring over Konrad’s shoulder. Konrad ran his tongue over the front of his teeth.
What a fucking creep. Like all necromancers.
The shadow prince had a deathly beauty, with unblemished pale skin. He was slender, too slender. He appeared fragile and frail, like a strong wind would knock him over. Long silken black hair hung around his shoulders.
Konrad could not deny how beautiful he was. But there was an unsettling aspect to his appearance. To Konrad, he appeared so pale and deathlike that he reminded Konrad of a corpse brought back to life.
Konrad turned away. But that wasn’t true. Not even a little. The shadow prince looked nothing like a reanimated corpse. Konrad had first-hand experience with reanimated corpses, thanks to the necromancers.
Not a day had gone by that Anton being brought back didn’t haunt Konrad’s memories. Konrad’s nightmares were filled with him too. Anton had looked nothing like Shadow Prince Wraith that day. Not at all.
Konrad grimaced as he stared at his dead father. What did his betrothed see when he looked upon his father’s dead body? Did he see a dead man? Or a corpse to defile and reanimate?
Konrad balled his hands into fists. Why did he have to marry a fucking necromancer? He’d rather have married anyone but one of those monsters, no matter how fucking pretty they were.