The marks on his skin where his binding runes had been catch my eye, and the sight needles me. Memories of the ritual shove their way into my mind—his touch, the heat, the bond I never asked for. They slip in like sabotage, unbidden and infuriating. Maybe it’s the blood. Maybe it’s what we survived. I don’t care. I still want to killhim. But hesitation worms its way in, quiet and unwelcome, dulling the edge I should have.
Letting the shadow blade dissipate into thin air, I raise my chin in defiance.
“Your grace, I tried…” Nyssa tries to speak, but Dayn shakes his head slowly.
“It’s not your fault,” he says. “Esme can be hard-headed and impulsive when she’s better served by calm and reasoning.”
“How come every word that comes out of your mouth sounds like an insult?” I cut in with a deep scowl.
“Probably because the truth is uncomfortable to hear, so it’s easier to take offense,” he replies, and glances at Nyssa. “There is a reason why I asked you, of all people in this palace, to stay by Esme’s side, Nyssa. I promise you’ll soon understand why.”
“Your grace, she is different,” Nyssa replies.
“Indeed. Much like you, she’s had to learn a few things the hard way. She’s about to learn a few more, in fact.” His glance slides to me, casual on the surface, though his amber eyes burn as they measure me. “For now, stand down. Esme and I have… catching up to do.”
“And then some,” I snap back, crossing my arms.
Dayn’s gaze locks on mine. The air between us thickens until every breath feels like an effort. My heart skips one too many beats, and I don’t like the sensation. I’m not sure if it’s fear or something worse... Topside would’ve been easier to handle. That’s my world. Down here, I’m exposed.
Treading uncharted waters.
I need to move with more caution.
“If you would follow me,” Dayn says, motioning toward the open door.
“Where?” I ask.
Nyssa holds back a smile but doesn’t say a word, merely tucking a lock of silver hair behind her ear. I exhale sharply when Dayn doesn’t answer and decide to follow him out of the room, as uncomfortable as I may be in these circumstances.
I might as well get a lay of the land.
Guards are stationed at each of the doors connected by a wide and tall hallway with white-painted walls and brass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Similarly designed torches are mounted at every door, their orange flames casting a warm light over the young dragons’ chiseled jaws.
They seem to have been made from the same mold.
Tall, strong, clad in gold-plated armor. They all stare ahead, yet as soon as we pass each of them, I can feel their curious eyes drilling hot holes into the back of my neck.
“I figured you’d all let loose in your dragon forms down here,” I tell Dayn dryly as I follow him to the end of the hallway. I still haven’t figured out exactly what kind of building this is, only that it’s sprawling, with multiple wings and chambers.
“We could,” Dayn replies, his tone matching mine. “But too many dragons in one place? We’d tear the city apart before we realized it. We’ve mastered both forms, though. Draethys was built to sustain both. It’s just better if we don’t test its limits. It took a long time to build. Great sacrifices were made for us to make a home down here.”
“And you… left?”
He pushes through a set of wide, gold-plated double doors, and we step into a large circular chamber with a domed ceiling. I’m rendered breathless by its regal beauty—the walls reinforced with gold-brushed arches that reach all the way up to the center, from which a ginormous gold and smoked glass chandelier descends.
The chandelier resembles a dragon with many heads that give light, while the golden wings fan out in different directions and angles, casting the glow evenly across the room. Beneath it, a throne rises, made of solid gold and fitted with embroidered cushions. Tall chairs form an arch before it, facing us. I’m guessing that’s where Lord Bemmar’s council sits whenever there’s an audience.
“Yes,” Dayn says simply. “I left.”
“Nyssa said you were the heir to the throne.”
“I still am,” he replies, his gaze flicking briefly to the seat of power. “Now that I’ve returned, someday I’ll sit there and lead my people.”
“Lead them where?”
His eyes snap back to me, sharp as a blade. “Here’s the situation. A problem—mostly for you.”
The urge to hit him flares hot, nearly unbearable. I force it down with a long breath, waiting for him to elaborate.
