“You know it isn’t that simple.”
“I could make it that simple,” I fire back, stopping to face my brother directly. “She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever encountered. She’sreacting to my essence in ways I never imagined. And right now, Esme is in pure survival mode. She needs time to acclimate.”
My brother inclines his head. “Esme Salem. Of all the darkbloods you could’ve brought back?—”
“It had to be a Salem,” I cut in. “Their lineage carries a unique magic. We all remember that, and it likely explains her current condition. Besides, fate practically dropped her at my feet. I’d have been a fool to turn her away. We need her.”
“My concern is Father’s,” he replies. “He fears she could wreak unspeakable havoc if she lives. Several councilors agree.”
I feel heat rise in my veins, but I keep my posture straight and voice steady. “No harm will come to Esme. An attack on her is an attack on me, crown prince and all. I trust even our critics grasp the consequences.”
He nods. “I’ve warned them. As much as he despises this, Father will back your decree.”
I know he hates it. Our history with the Salem witches is a tangled web of alliances and betrayals. But Esme… she’s in a league of her own. Whether it’s our blood bond or my respect for her lethal prowess, she haunts my every thought. Staying away from her? Impossible.
We round a corner and freeze at the sight of long shadows before us. We pivot to see Sema of House Braynor, flanked by younger dragons who could pass as his cousins. I’ve never liked him.
“I thought that was you, Daynthazar,” Sema drawls, a sneer twisting his face. “I smelled that darkblood stench from streets away.”
“Sema,” I reply coolly, “I assumed avoiding you at last night’s feast made my feelings clear.”
“Gentlemen, what brings you to the institute?” Anees interjects with a diplomatic smile, ever the peacemaker.
Sema towers over most dragons of Draethys—formidable in open flight, though his wings are weaker these days. In tight quarters, I’d stand the better chance in dragon form.
Esme would already be summoning a shadow wisp to settle this,I can’t help but think.
“I’m the guest lecturer for today’s combat seminar,” Sema announces with false pride, glancing at me. “Seems Lord Daynthazar, the half-blood, wasn’t even considered.”
“Half-blood?” I echo.
“Tainted,” he snarls. “Many question how draconic you truly are after your time in the world above.”
“Half-blood, perhaps,” I retort, “but still more dragon than you.”
He laughs, low and mocking. “Was she worth it, though? Defiling your own bloodline? At least make it a good story—tell me the lay was worth the scandal.”
Before I realize what’s happening, every shred of civility is gone. Sema barely has time to register me at his side before I drive my fist into his chest. The impact robs him of air; he wheezes and skids backward, feet clawing at the pavement but somehow keeping him upright.
I level him with a cold warning. “You’d do well to remember who I am.” Then I strike again. He twists away just in time from my first blow, boots scraping the asphalt, but he never sees the second punch coming. My knuckles flare orange—dragon fire ready to ignite a crippling hit.
“I’ll take you on anytime!” Sema snarls. “You’ve made fools of us all!” His words hang in the air a split second before my fist connects. I hear the sickening snap of ribs.
His cousins surge forward, hands balled, but a shadow streaks around them and cuts them off. Anees’s familiar scent hits me as he whips by—lightning fast, just like when we used to spar. It’s been too long since we trained together.
Before Sema can rise, I twist to land a final blow. His insult still burns in my blood, feeding the fire in my veins. Letting him live feels impossible. But Anees’s hand grips my arm. “ENOUGH!” he roars.
One of Sema’s cousins rushes to his side. “Sema!” Another shouts, “You’ll pay for this!”
Sema grunts, pressing a hand to his side where the cracked rib rebels against any movement. “The bastard… he got me.”
Anees straightens, voice cold. “I look forward to seeing you in court, gentlemen. Explain how you accosted the crown prince and his brother in broad daylight, and insulted us. Draethys has laws. Remember them.”
“Talk to your precious crown prince about the laws. He just tried to kill me,” Sema spits, pain shadowing his features.
I can’t resist a smile. “But I didn’t kill you. And for that insult, no one would have blamed me. Thank my brother for sparing you, and consider yourself warned, Sema.”
“Likewise, Lord Daynthazar. House Braynor does not forget.”
