Elohios guide me.
“Haldor! Mikal! Escort him for trial.”
Riders dismounted from their red and green dragons as Ronan hauled his sister off the dock. My teeth gritted at the sight of her struggling against his grasp. She argued, words too low for me to hear, gaze flashing over her shoulder, searching for mine.
Her cheeks were thinner, her skin sun-darkened. At this distance, the blue of her eyes was almost indiscernible.
A growl snapped my attention downward. I’d stepped toward her. A wall of obsidian scales slammed down, and an orange eye pinned me in place.
Pulse hammering, I resisted the instinct to draw my sword. A single wrong twitch would mean my end. I inhaled through my nose, calming the urge. I faced death countless times—dragonfire would simply be a quicker path.
Ronan’s dragon launched into the sky, and I tilted my head, chasing one last glimpse of Nienna. A speck against the clouds. Then gone.
The larger black whipped its head toward me, knocking me off balance, and I steadied myself on the dock as it retreated into the water. The movements sent waves rocking the ship.
My attention shifted to two men advancing.
Riders, clad in black leather. Knives strapped across their bodies like scales. One unhooked a chain from his belt.
I was a king.
My throat tightened. I stared into the older man’s eyes—anger glinting in the dark brown.
“Your men remain aboard,” he said.
I dipped my head. “Agreed.”
The younger man jerked his chin toward my shadow. “Including him.”
There was no avoiding it. Greaves would never stay behind. He was bound to me. Leaving me would destroy him.
“Where he goes, I go,” he growled.
“He’s going to his death.” The older rider pushed past me, and it took everything I had to remain still when he grabbed my sword.
My eyes drifted shut as the blade scraped free of its sheath.
The wave of vulnerability hit harder than expected. My weapon was gone. Cold steel bit my wrists as they wrenched my arms behind me.
“I go with him.” Greaves stated.
Even if I commanded him as king, he wouldn’t turn back. I had no right as a friend to send him away while I marched toward what could be my end.
“Your choice,” the younger rider muttered.
Greaves had planned for this—left most of his gear on the ship, surrendered the rest without a fight.
A crowd gathered along the shore. Nereus meant to make a spectacle. I had disgraced him and his daughter in front of our courts; he’d return the favor now. Behind the cluster of uneasy faces, a jagged black tower loomed from the island’s center.
The stone drank in sunlight, casting a deeper shadow. That grim fortress was Nienna’s birthplace—and my doom.
I lifted my chin as Nereus mounted his dragon, its wings tucked, its scales dull and broad as shields.
“Let’s go.”
A rough hand shoved me forward, and I stepped toward the watching crowd.
If I wanted Nienna, I would suffer this. I would endure, bear this burden. Radaan whispered blame into every painted smile. She would have suffered worse at court, her reputation in tatters.
