Prologue – King Locryn’s Celebration Day #4
“I know, Your Majesty. I’ll dispatch someone to find him.
” Sakaris rose, bowed, turned on his heel, and shuffled toward the steps from the bowl, relying heavily on his staff.
At his rate of travel, he might reach his destination by Father’s next anniversary, unless he magicked himself there, once he cleared the anti-magic wards.
Couldn’t he mentally summon Uncle Urien, or innately know where he currently lurked? Then again, he'd mentioned before not sharing the same bond with Urien that Daire and his brothers did with each other.
Elouan rose to perform the part their uncle should play.
The crowd immediately settled. “High Reaches Court.” His voice echoed against the bowl’s walls, defying the table’s conversation-dampening spells.
“We have gathered together this night to celebrate King Locryn Thorne’s fiftieth anniversary as your king. ”
Shouts and clapping thundered from the crowd.
“Instead of having you all swear fealty to him again, as is tradition, he has planned this feast to share with you, for he feels this honor isn’t only his but yours. We have enjoyed fifty summers of peace under his reign.”
Not for lack of Uncle Urien trying to drag the court into the battles other courts fought, resulting in many deaths and displaced dragons like Teron seeking refuge.
A court the size of High Reaches would have no problem overwhelming others, Urien often argued.
Sakaris said Urien’s greed and incompetence were the reasons the Goddess blessed Daire’s grandparents with a second alpha son, whom she later made king.
Or so gossip said.
Uncle Urien would’ve brought them to ruin, using their might against weaker courts. The Goddess frowned upon bullying.
Servers descended the bowl’s steps, some laden with trays, others with flagons.
The scent of roast venison permeated the air.
Finally! Daire’s stomach rumbled. More servers mounted the dais, serving the royal family.
The best food and wine the court could offer flowed freely, though Daire missed his ale.
A string quartet played during the meal. Elouan loved the violin, though his playing sounded like someone torturing a cat. Daire far preferred the lute, though he’d never managed to play much better than Elouan. Three music teachers had resigned their positions in defeat.
Anrai had received the musical gifts in the family, usually keeping a flute with him, though it was noticeably absent tonight.
Mother had been an excellent harpist.
The meal passed quietly, Father and Elouan with their heads together, Anrai trying to ogle Teron without getting caught, and Daire longing for his friends and a cup of ale. Oh, the things he endured for family.
Up in the seats, Ywain smiled at a beta female from another fighting unit, gracing her with his dimples, stroking a lock of auburn hair behind her ear.
Daire might have to look elsewhere for company tonight, not that he blamed Ywain.
Daire’s presence might be required until long into the night.
Let Ywain entertain himself elsewhere. He’d give all the details in the morning—whether or not Daire wanted them.
At least this infernal dress uniform had snug-fitting sleeves that didn’t constantly interfere with eating. Both Elouan and Anrai fought swathes of billowy lace at their wrists.
The meal wound down. Some groups stayed while others left as soon as the food was gone.
How strange. These celebrations traditionally lasted long into the night.
When the king offered food and drink, the people took full advantage.
Not to mention getting a chance to mingle with the ruling family. There might even be dancing later.
Daire would enjoy taking Ywain into his arms for a dance or two if not for the pretty female now nestled under Ywain’s arm. Oh, yes. There would be details aplenty come morning.
Noises came from the high, arched doorway leading to the cliffs, where a ledge allowed dragons to land and take human form before entering. Servants stocked robes nearby to clothe them.
Uncle Urien strode through the doorway, followed by some of his closest allies, dressed in leather armor. What? They hadn’t arrived as dragons, or they’d be naked. They hadn’t had time to dress, had they? Why was he dressed for battle?
“Brother.” Urien spread his arms wide, a broad smile on his face. “My apologies for missing your feast.” The acid in his voice sent chills down Daire’s spine.
Daire reached for his sword, coming up empty-handed. Damnation for the wards keeping him from wearing one!
“It was our feast, brother, belonging to the entire court.” Father rose, striding purposefully toward Uncle Urien with a genuine smile on his face.
Something seemed off about Urien’s smile, more of a sneer. Not that he’d ever been sincere about anything. The sense of wrongness from earlier made its presence known, roiling Daire’s insides.
The sneer changed to a smirk as Urien embraced Father, sleeve falling back to reveal the gleam of a knife. A weapon? Here? How had a weapon gotten past the wards?
“Father!” Elouan screamed, launching himself at Urien. Daire’s dragon raged inside him. Rend, rend, rend!
Soldiers with unsheathed swords flooded through the entrance behind Urien and down the steps from above. How dare they desecrate this place with weapons! A chorus of screams echoed around the bowl, quickly silenced.
Two soldiers grabbed Elouan’s arms.
“Father!” Daire and Elouan both shrieked.
Oh Goddess! Urien plunged the knife into Father’s back.
Father crumpled to the ground. “No!”
Daire launched himself toward his uncle. “I will kill you!” His dragon raged within him, trying to get out. Daire’s vision darkened around the edges. He released an inhuman roar, grabbing a knife from the table and slashing at two approaching guards with his feeble weapon. They both ran.
Ywain appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Daire’s arm.
Daire fought him off. “He’s mine! I’m gonna rip his Goddess forsaken head off!”
“Daire! No!” Ywain pleaded, nearly tackling Daire to the ground. “Some of our troops will handle things here. We take to the skies. Hurry! We’re under attack!”
Attack? His brothers. Oh, Goddess of Fire, Daire couldn’t forget his brothers. “What about Elouan? Anrai?”
“Elouan’s surrounded by Urien’s loyalists, but Urien won’t dare kill him in public. We’ll free him later. Teron has Anrai. You know he’ll keep your brother safe. Now let’s go!”
Daire slashed his way toward the exit. He began stripping off his uniform, specially made for quick changes. A soldier stood in his way, a bastard of a man Daire had put in his place before. The man grinned, raising his sword.
Suddenly Ywain was there at Daire’s side. “You dare raise arms against your prince?”
Taking advantage of the distraction, Daire rammed his fist with all his might into the swordsman’s nose. The man went down, dropping his sword to clutch his face. Blood poured between his fingers. Weapons were useless without skill.
Daire reached the ledge right after Ywain, still in shock over the past few moments, but now completely naked.
Had it only been a few moments? Father alive one second, gone the next.
Tears stung Daire’s eyes, which he couldn’t allow to fall.
Not now. Not with the rest of his family to save. Maybe Father still lived.
Daire and Ywain both screamed and launched themselves from the cliff. The screams turned into battle cries as they both took dragon form.
Hundreds of dragons swirled in the air, many more than Daire had seen before. Where had they all come from?
Ywain’s green scales gleamed in the light of dragon fire. Daire’s dark brown coloring blended with the darkness, a trait he used to his advantage. It took a moment to determine who was fighting whom, friend or foe. He could sense the High Reaches fighters known to him, but not the others.