When Bemmar returns to the room, I’m almost done scratching one of the wards off the wall. I’ve managed to identify the runes that keep my windows shielded by letting my shadow energy flow through the stone. Funny how new skills emerge under pressure.
“What did you and Daynthazar talk about before he left?” the king sullenly demands.
I keep my hands behind my back, the shadow tendrils quick to slip back under my skin as I face him. “Why do you ask?”
“We can’t find him anywhere. None of our tracking spells work for some reason…”
For a moment, I see genuine pain in his golden eyes. Eyes like his son’s, but heavier with the burden of leadership, of having to keep it together before his subjects—both loyal and traitors. I don’t see a man who wishes to harm his son. I see a man who’s desperate to find him. A man who cares.
In my mind, a man like that wouldn’t hasten to invade the world above. Bemmar may be hard-headed and proud, but he doesn’t strike me as a fool. I might as well test one of my theories, then.
“Dayn said there was a traitor in House Draxion,” I finally say.
Bemmar’s expression hardens into a precise scowl. “A traitor? What do you mean?”
“Surely you’re aware that there are some among you who wish to conquer the world above. To make dragons the apex again.”
“It’s just angry talk from frustrated hatchlings who have no idea what that would entail. Or where it might lead. I pay it no mind,” Bemmar scoffs.
It hits me now that he actually believes it’s nothing to worry about.
Buckle up, daddy. I’m about to grind your gears.
“One of Dayn’s brothers was conspiring with House Braynor to this end. He said they have loyal people in every house now,” I tell the king and carefully watch his reaction.
His eyebrows arch upward at first, followed by a sudden drop and a smooth forehead as the blood drains from his cheeks. He paces the room, slow and steady in his stride as he analyzes my words.
“Which of his brothers?” he asks.
“I figured you might have a clue already,” I reply, testing him again.
So far, Bemmar is passing with flying colors as Draethys’s most ignorant king, which makes me wonder. How blinding can fatherly love be? Surely he must’ve had conversations with all four of his sons on the subject. One or more of them must’ve said something to trigger alarm bells in his head.
How bad would it be if we took the world back by blood and fire?Byzu might’ve asked.They won’t let us see the skies again, otherwise,Arrynth might’ve added. Dayn would’ve spoken against it. Anees, ever the wiser among his brothers, would’ve agreed with him. And Bemmar would have understood something. Or so I assume.
He gives me a hard look. “Are these rumors? Something you might’ve heard at the Bellatorium?”
“No, your grace. It’s something I saw for myself.”
The king refuses to hide his frustration anymore. “Is this a gameyou’re trying to play, darkblood?” he hisses. “Are you deliberately withholding information that endangers my son, your husband, the crown prince?”
“No.” I shake my head slowly. “I’m just trying to figure out if you’re in on the plot or if you even agree with the concept of invading the world above.”
“I’ve kept my people down here in absolute safety for centuries!” he roars. “What kind of fool would I be to lead my people to more bloodshed and destruction, when we barely managed to preserve our kind after the Blood Wars?”
I find his argument convincing. “Which is why I find it odd that dragons who have already seen such wars would be in favor of an invasion.”
“They’re either fools or delusional. Either way, they’re dangerous to the entirety of Draethys, and I cannot stand for such treason, Esme Salem.” He takes another deep breath. “Which of my sons? I won’t ask again. I’ll tear the answer out of your throat if I have to.”
And, if I’m being honest with myself, I won’t stand a chance against such wrath.
“Byzu,” I murmur.
“With whom was he conspiring from House Braynor?”
“I believe his name is Sema.”
And there it is. The penny just dropped.
