A voice carried from the gallery. “Your Majesty, what will you do when you find him?”
My gaze swept over the nobles, faces blurring into one mass of silk and suspicion. The answer did not waver. “That remains between Elohios and Tallon. May the gods grant him mercy.”
I would not. Not after he laid hands on Nienna.
“Another interruption will result in removal from the chamber,” Fallione said, tone smooth and edged.
“We stand ready, my king.” Xzaphin bowed his head. “Command us.”
“I won’t send you where I refuse to ride.” My palm flattened against the table. “Scouts place him in Helmsgate, moving for the Craggs.” My finger traced the inked map, following the line of his escape.
“Shall the dragons intercept?” Uthiel asked.
Youth sharpened his features—barely into his twenty-third year. He proved brilliant in examinations, earning the highest scores in military testing. I had placed him under Arphix to temper theory with reality and learn by experience.
“As I stated, his reckoning lies between Elohios and myself.” My eyes fixed on him until he held still, reminding him to consider his words before speaking. “Dragons carry only their rider, and Tallon would not survive a trip in their claws.”
“Where does our path lie?” Arphix’s voice cut low and steady. Chin dipped, gaze locked, he studied me as he would a battlefield. Silver threaded through his dark hair. I had watched him return from enough campaigns to trust him in Darius’ place.
“Through Phares.”
Shock rippled through the chamber. A direct ride to the Craggs would steal two days from Tallon’s lead.
“We will not linger,” I continued, pulse steady. “But there is unfinished business to address.” My muscles coiled when Bac rose from his seat. The urge to pursue burned hot beneath my skin. “Afterward, we hunt.”
Bac moved toward the rear doors, posture rigid, steps measured though forced propriety.
I allowed him his retreat. A darker part of me savored it.
No man could outrun a dragon.
“You disagree with heading north.”
Greaves’ disapproval had been a weight all morning, subtle but insistent—not in word or expression, but in the steady pull of shared air over decades.
He grunted, stepping alongside rather than behind me. Fallione’s absence was silent permission to speak freely. “I think you’re letting him get away with too much.”
“Then you approve?” My eyes narrowed. With the corridors empty, no one witnessed our lapse in etiquette.
“Phares has built up years of brush and neglect. It’s ready to burn. But Tallon never acts without planning.”
“Not Tallon.”
“Egath,” Greaves corrected with a shrewd nod.
Both of us knew who truly pulled the strings. Tallon’s immaturity could not account for this chaos alone.
“I’m heading toward the Craggs.” My voice dropped as I scanned the barren hall. “But I refuse to have traitors at my back. If I leave Phares to be dealt with later and they turn on me, I’ll be trapped between them and Vellos.”
“What good are they on their own?” Greaves murmured, hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. “Nienna’s dragons will ride with us. And while the Phares may have backed Tallon, not all followed him in his coup.”
I pressed my lips together. “It makes me uneasy.”
“You already made an example of Lon.”
He assumed I intended to repeat the lesson in Phares. But it was more. Far more. They had scorned Nienna. Takal insulted her. Bac undermined me for too long. By shielding the boy who had dared to touch my wife—threatening her life and unknowingly the life of my heir—they sealed their fate.
I wanted revenge.
