Lucien
Lucien senses Tezurit beyond the palace walls. A constant brush of scales against his mind. As the drasgard pat him down, Lucien mentally describes their surroundings. His part of the plan remains the same—get close to Imrik and kill him. Except now, he has to keep Kazia safe from the firestorm.
Kazia runs up just before they enter the throne room. Dodging a drasgard to grab Lucien’s sleeve, he hisses, “Wait for Bretka’s signal.”
“What signal?” Lucien asks.
Kazia’s eyes are wild. “I have no idea.”
Lucien can’t ask for clarification before the drasgard yank him away. He stumbles across the entrance into the watery blue light of the throne room. His magic tingles with the presence of scalestone.We’re in a big hall with lots of blue and purple windows. The throne is on the north end.
How big?Tezurit asks.Size is very important.
Big enough, except for all the pillars.Lucien should be able to hide Kazia behind the pillars, but they may complicate the rest of the plan.
Pillars aren’t a problem,Tezurit says smugly.Where are the enemies?
The enemies wait beneath the carved figure of a dragon in flight. Shadows dance behind stone wings, spun from the torches below. The white light extends halfway through the hall. Two thrones rule Draskora, though the king’s chair is larger, dark stone riddled with scalestone. Imrik sits there, still as a carved statue himself.
The sight of him in his scalestone crown still sparks rage in Lucien’s heart, but it’s different from the first time. Not that the anger has diminished. It’s grown larger, until Lucien doesn’t have the capacity to feel its pain.
This man killed Lucien’s family, and he hurt his own eight-year-old son to do it. He won’t survive the day, even if Lucien goes down in flames with him.
Aliza stands beneath the dais, an open book in her arms. Her gold-threaded skirts nearly touch the edge of an elaborate circle. Paint shimmers silver across the dark floor, cardinal directions anchored with chunks of raw scalestone.
Behind Lucien, the great door slammed shut. At a glance, he doesn’t see any drasgard. Just Herald Bretka floating silently towards the throne.
You feel nervous,Tezurit says.Should I eat people yet? Loska says it will be fun.
Lucien isn’t sure whose nerves he’s feeling, his own or Tezurit’s. Probably both.We’re waiting on Bretka’s signal.
Consternation echoes through their bond.Who the fuck is Bretka? How many humans are in this mountain? I don’t understand how you remember so many names.
A drasgard shoves Lucien forward and says, “Kneel.”
Dropping to his knee before they knock him down, Lucien glares up at Imrik. Once more, he kneels before the Dire king, but this time he’s not alone. He has his magic and his free will, and he trusts Kazia with every fiber of his being. If Kazia says to wait, Lucien will wait for the signal. Whatever the signal is.
His nerves ease as Kazia stops at his shoulder. Not close enough to touch, as Lucien so desperately wants to. He doesn’t need a bond to sense Kazia’s fear.
“Kazia, darling,” Aliza says with a smile.
“What’s going on, Mother?” Kazia demands. “This isn’t where you usually summon me.”
“Just a little experiment.” Aliza closes the book with a clap of old paper. “I’d like to borrow your pet.”
Lucien can’t muster any surprise. An experimental ritual is a sensible use for an enemy captive, at least for someone like Aliza.
Kazia’s hands tighten into fists. “Borrowing implies you’ll be returning him. How many pieces will he be in?”
Behind Aliza, Bretka stops at the empty throne. Her pale eyes dart everywhere.
Aliza ignores her son’s question. “Order him into the center of the circle, and tell him to stay put.”
“Maybe I will,” Kazia says. “After you tell me what this is for.”
Imrik taps his signet ring against the arm of the throne. “Listen to your mother, Kazia.”
“No,” Kazia says, crossing his arms.
