“Going somewhere?” His voice cuts through the darkness, low and rough-edged.
I stall, hand already on the doorknob.
Of course I wouldn’t be able to slip out without him noticing.
“Nowhere controversial,” I mutter. “Need some air.”Some space.
His response is silence. No words needed to warn me not to do anything stupid again.
I step outside and softly close the door behind me, exhaling. Drawing my shadows around me like a cloak, I slip down the stairs.
The dining hall is half empty. Most guests have departed, but nobles from several houses cluster around the king’s table, deep in conversation and nursing goblets. Servants hover nearby, topping off goblets and bringing plates of sweet pies and honey-aged dried fruits stored in oak barrels. I love the scent, I admit.
Hidden within my cloak’s shadow, I can’t help but edge a little closer.
King Bemmar smiles as he sips his drink.
“I hope your son knows what he’s doing,” Colonel Rogon murmurs. “Our houses’ support is dwindling.”
“We still have Meraxis and Rogon on our side, don’t we?” Bemmar replies.
The colonel glances at the king’s sons, Anees and Byzu. “Always, your grace. And when the time comes, Arrynth will wed my niece Ariella, as we agreed.”
“Good. At least that’s settled,” Bemmar mutters. “Dayn has changed since he spent time aboveground, that’s obvious.”
“He’s always had a soft spot for humans,” Anees reminds them. “Let’s not forget his friendship with the Salems.”
“But this is Draethys,” Byzu counters, crossing his arms. “His people come first. They should always come first.”
Bemmar exhales sharply. “I understand why he left. We were lost, huddled down here, ashamed of our defeat. And Dayn always believed we could reclaim the surface, but not by blood and fire.”
“And he ended up shackled by the clearbloods,” Rogon says, shaking his head. “Clearly, humans cannot be reasoned with.”
“The darkblood he brought back kind of proves you wrong,” Anees shoots back with a wry smile.
The colonel scoffs. “Esme Salem cannot be trusted. She’ll keep testing us, mark my words.”
He’s not wrong.
Byzu rises suddenly from his chair, his eyes darting toward the doorway. Following his gaze, I catch sight of a servant lingering at the threshold, his fingers tapping twice against the doorframe.Something electric passes between them—the kind of silent communication that raises the hair on my neck.
“Forgive me,” Byzu announces, pressing his palm against his stomach. “The wine has gotten the better of me tonight.”
Anees laughs. “And here I thought you'd outlast us all.”
“Only Arrynth,” Byzu counters with a smirk, clapping his father's shoulder as he withdraws. “Until breakfast, then. I'm particularly eager to see how our newlyweds fare after their... ceremonial evening.”
Bemmar's exasperated eye-roll mirrors my own internal response. Rather than enduring more of the colonel's suspicions about my loyalty, I slip into the shadows and trail Byzu through the corridors.
I maintain my distance, scrutinizing each figure we pass: dragons in their human forms, servants with downcast eyes, nobles swaying with intoxication.
When Byzu veers abruptly down a service stairwell, I hesitate at the top, allowing my vision to adjust to the darkness below. A misstep now would be catastrophic. At the bottom, he pauses, glancing in both directions before veering left.
The “servant” from earlier materializes from an alcove. Byzu seizes his arm. “Coming here tonight—have you lost your mind?” he hisses.
“Settle down,” the man retorts, wrenching free. “I wasn't followed. The Braynor contingent believes I'm elsewhere.”
“That's hardly the point, Sema. You could have been recognized. Especially after what transpired at the council meet?—”
