“You were playing double agent?”
“Trying to identify the serpent before alerting Father.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Never imagined it wore our scales.” Tears well in eyes I've only seen weep once before—when Mother's pyre burned. “We were supposed to be brothers first, Dayn. Squabbling over council seats, not... this.”
“We need to extract Arrynth before Anees shows his true nature.”
Byzu scans our surroundings, eyes tracking every movement while he offers distracted nods to passing staff. His fingers tap against his thigh—a warrior's nervous tell. I’m no longer confident I can trust anyone, but if Byzu is willing to assist me, for now I’ll take it… whilst keeping an eye on him.
“He’ll want Esme, you know,” he says.
“Anees? Let him pine all he likes. He can’t have her.”
He quirks a half-smile. “You broke the warding, didn’t you? That’s what the dragon stunt was for.”
“She needed an even playing field for what comes next. And I had to be down here. Come on, brother. It’s not too late.”
“So what are we doing?” he asks.
“We’re calling an emergency security council,” I answer. “Colonel Rogon must know everything that’s happened. By law, with Father dead, I’m now King of Draethys. I have the authority.”
But as we reach the palace’s north side, the mood changes.
The main hall is packed, and more dragons spill down the front steps into the courtyard. Anees stands atop a black stone dais, his voice carrying above the murmurs.
“I’m afraid King Bemmar is dead,” he announces, frowning.
Brutus Meraxis stands with the other great Houses—Braynor, Rogon, Harrow—exactly the members I needed on my council. Colonel Rogon’s eyes go wide, shock and grief warring on his face.
“In my hand,” Anees continues, “I hold proof that Lord Daynthazar ordered the king’s brutal assassination.”
“What?” I whisper, stunned.
Byzu stays close at my side, scanning the crowd. I feel more dragons shifting their gaze toward us, but I can’t tear my eyes from Anees and the lies pouring from his lips.
“It was a plot to stop our father from revealing the truth,” Anees says, shaking his head in ominous sorrow. “The truth is we’re meant to reclaim the skies. King Bemmar sought peace, but he knew humans would never allow us to soar.”
“My lord,” Colonel Rogon protests, “you must be mistaken.”
Arrynth steps from behind Anees and inclines his head. “I’ve verified the letter myself,” he says quietly.
“What letter?” Byzu murmurs.
“No idea,” I reply.
“In this letter, signed by Lord Daynthazar,” Anees waves a parchment, “he hires Loren and Severen Payne—two palace guards and scholars—and promises them gold and gems for a favor. They’ve confessed: that favor was to kill King Bemmar.”
“You’ve apprehended the Payne brothers?” Colonel Rogon demands.
Anees only nods. “They’ll testify. I stand here today, with evidence and sworn testimony, to accuse Lord Daynthazar of House Draxion of patricide and regicide—capital, unforgivable crimes.”
“Gods,” Byzu swears, tugging me back from the crowd. “We have to go. Now.”
I wrench my arm free, lunging toward the dais. “I won't let him spread these lies.”
Anees's voice carries over the crowd. “It is with profound sorrow that I must accept these duties—as Lord of House Draxion and King of Draethys—as succession demands.”
“The flame of Draethys!” Arrynth's voice rings out.
The crowd's response thunders through the hall: “THE FLAME OF DRAETHYS!”
