Chapter Eleven
The Augur’s Warning
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Dracyg Dominion, Zarynth.
Gedeon.
The hour was late, and Gedeon was enjoying some time alone in the library, with nothing but the crackling fire for company, and the star-crossed lovers on the pages he was reading.
It did not do to read the hundreds of recorded histories of this world, for he lived that life daily.
He breathed it. It was far better to dive into a fabricated world far from his own, to escape for just a few hours in his imagination, getting lost in someone else’s creation, someone else’s story.
A very different form of magic, yet equally as powerful.
‘It is not your job to reunite fledglings with their parents,’ Sekun’s voice drawled from the open doorway, interrupting his peace.
Without even bothering to look up at his brother, Gedeon flicked over a page and said in a bored voice, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Uninvited, Sekun stalked into the room and surveyed the shelves stacked with old books, though Gedeon knew he was not really looking. ‘So you have not been badgering my soldiers on the whereabouts of a certain man by the name of Ephram Opherion?’ he asked with an obvious forced indifference.
‘I have not been badgering anyone,’ Gedeon replied lazily. ‘Nor does the matter concern you in the slightest.’
‘It concerns me if my soldiers are disrupted by incessant questioning from you,’ Sekun snapped, his previous mask of unconcern completely slipping.
‘I don’t see why it matters,’ Gedeon said. ‘I didn’t find the man.’
‘Nor will you. I killed him.’
Sekun was carefully observing his reaction. Gedeon finally looked up to meet his brother’s gaze. He deliberately closed the book in his hands. ‘I imagine he must have done something terrible to warrant such drastic action?’
Blue eyes so like their mother’s flashed with smugness. ‘When one apple rots, so does the rest of the fruit bowl. It was a necessary precaution.’
Gedeon knew better. Whether Ephram Opherion had shown signs of rebelling or not, his death was nothing more than a deplorable attempt to undermine him. Amala’s hopeful face swam unwanted in his mind. ‘And how goes that fruit bowl now? Has the… threat been eliminated?’
‘Do not mock me,’ Sekun thundered in what Gedeon could only assume was supposed to be a dangerous voice. He pointed an accusatory finger at him. ‘You are training a generation of lethal warriors. Not running an orphanage.’
‘My process for my fledgling's progression is, once again, none of your concern.’ Gedeon stood, taking the book with him and replacing it on the shelf behind his brother.
‘Prince of Fire,’ Sekun sneered, shaking his head. ‘You are soft-hearted and weak. It will be your doom if you do not learn how to snuff it out.’
‘Weakness…’ Gedeon began, diverting his concentration inwards to the place his soul continuously burned. ‘…is subjective.’
With a single thought, he plunged the library into complete darkness
Seconds later, at Gedeon’s will, the flames that had guttered in the torches and fireplaces blazed and crackled back into existence.
Sekun’s nostrils flared, and Gedeon took great pleasure in the all-consuming jealousy now simmering in his brother’s eyes.
‘A dragon’s wisdom is not weakness, Sekun,’ he said, leaning into an arrogance that only arose where Sekun was involved. ‘You would do well to remember that.’
‘You are not a dragon.’
Gedeon took a step closer. ‘I am more dragon than you will ever be. Call me soft-hearted and weak all you like, but that truth will out.’
‘Do not forget, brother… without your flames and darkness to hide behind, you are nothing.’ He sidestepped around him and headed for the door.
As far as Gedeon could remember, Sekun had never treated him with any sort of kindness or brotherly affection, but always with a deep animosity borne from their mother’s inclination to favour her second son, just for the extraordinary power he possessed.
Gedeon’s own contempt for Sekun was based on nothing more than his brother’s ancient and obvious hatred of him. The grudge was festering with neglect.
Those long, hostile years of feuding had made him weary.
‘Sekun,’ Gedeon called after him, struck by a sudden remorse. ‘Mother has given us a task. One that we must work together to complete. I do not wish to be your enemy. I have never wished that.’
Sekun paused in the threshold. ‘You have been my enemy from the second you were born. No amount of combined duty will change that.’
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For the first time in quite a while, Sekun had managed to crawl under Gedeon’s skin. It was not just his spiteful words or his mere presence that had done it, but the unfortunate situation his brother had put him in, in killing Ephram Opherion.
Gedeon had never been a loud male, but the news had subdued him more than usual. As he stood facing the young fledgling girl in the courtyard once more, his tongue struggled to form the words that would break her heart.
Though, she already appeared to be broken. Awaiting his instruction, she stared blankly at a spot on the dusty courtyard ground. All that fight, all that daringness that had piqued Gedeon’s interest since their first encounter, had seemingly been doused with a bucket of ice cold water.
A necessary precaution, Sekun had called it. Yet for this one human cub, that precaution would cause unbearable pain.
Gedeon swiftly shook the thought away. He ought not to think in such a way. It was not a weakness to allow those thoughts to surface, but to acknowledge the hurt feelings of a human girl, a fledgling slave, was-
He cleared his throat. It was not his problem. ‘Amala, before we begin our session this evening, I must relay to you some regrettable news.’
The girl’s thick eyelashes flickered, his voice breaking some sort of trance. She looked up at him. ‘He’s dead. Isn’t he?’
He could not be sure how she knew. ‘Your father was a warrior, and he died a warrior’s death. Remember him with pride.’ A slightly fabricated truth to soften the blow.
‘No, he didn’t.’ Amala’s eyes locked with his, daring him to lie again.
So, she had not heeded his warning about wandering the castle and had found herself in places she should not be, learning things she should not know. It was becoming easier to believe that Ephram Opherion had been a rebel, if his own daughter’s disobedience was anything to go by.
Against his better judgement, Gedeon chose not to comment on her illicit behaviour. ‘Was he a good man?’
He had the impression she was expecting to be reprimanded, for his question seemed to catch her off guard. The fire in her eyes dulled a little, her eyebrows stitching toward each other. ‘Yes,’ she whispered shortly.
‘Good men are often dealt a bad fate, overlooked and overshadowed by those who are threatened by their integrity. But know this, Amala. Though gone from this world, your father lives on. In you.’
Consoling fledglings…
In his mind’s eye, Sekun's sneering face loomed.
Amala’s eyes filled with tears, her bottom lip shaking with the effort of holding them back. ‘Will… will they tell my mother? And my family back in the Agni Lands?’
‘Yes, your family will be informed,’ Gedeon replied instantly, though in truth, he did not know how Sekun handled the aftermath of the deaths of his soldiers.
It was likely the men were forgotten before their bodies were even cold.
Amala did not need to know that.
In the distance, a man started shouting at the top of his lungs, the sound piercing the previously still and quiet air like a sharpened knife. Amala jumped with fright.
Gedeon peered over the courtyard balcony. A man no older than thirty stood below, just before the bridge to the black castle. Each of his hands gripped a torch alight with fire, the flames slowly licking down the wood toward his bare skin.
‘HEAR ME!’ the man screamed, his voice hoarse. ‘HEAR ME! HEAR ME, FIRE WARDEN! HEAR MY WORDS AND HEED MY WARNING!’
‘Stay here,’ he commanded Amala, then rushed from the courtyard and through the castle’s labyrinth of darkened hallways.
Two floors down, he knew Amala was following him, completely disregarding his order but keeping her distance in a failed attempt to be subtle.
‘Don’t scurry like a mouse, Amala,’ he scolded over his shoulder.
‘If you are to disobey me with such recklessness, do so with pride.’ He slowed ever so slightly, and after a moment, she was at his side, trotting to match his long strides.
‘I will allow you to stay with me. But you must remain by my side unless told otherwise. Do you understand?’
From the corner of his eye, he saw her fervently nod.
‘And keep that loose tongue still behind your teeth. Not a word uttered unless you are directly spoken to. Yes?’
Another nod. This time, Gedeon knew she would obey him.
The front gates to the drawbridge were already open by the time he and Amala arrived, and Sunsi and Sekun stood together (an unlikely sight), watching the man ailed by lunacy.
‘Your brother wants to kill on sight, without detainment first,’ Sunsi told him tightly as he stood by her. ‘But the pious fool demands to speak to you. What are your orders?’
‘The man causes public distress, boldly showing his faith in the Four,’ Sekun said, his upper lip curling with derision. ‘Treasonous cunt.’
‘My lord?’ Sunsi pressed Gedeon, ignoring him.
It was his word against Sekun’s. His brother was crown prince and heir to the throne… but Gedeon held the power. Literally and figuratively.
‘Let the man speak,’ he said shortly.
Sekun stared straight ahead, his jaw visibly tightening.
‘Stay with the captain,’ Gedeon quietly ordered Amala, then stepped forward a couple of paces, making himself known to the disturbed citizen. ‘I will hear what you have to say.’