The crowd went quiet. My drakens reassessed this bloodwitch, quietly impressed. Even Meruse, who had seen every horror the sea could offer, tilted her head in interest.
Nerissa didn’t seem to care, waving a hand dismissively. “Enough of the past. I came after my son. The dragon blood in him burned hot, and the magick I taught him only made it worse. He was restless. The wards around our island made him feel caged.”
“What island?” Wren asked, leaning forward.
“South of here,” Nerissa said. “Hidden from men and magicks alike. Originally built out of shipwrecks and bones, it once housed pirates but now my family calls it home. The bloodwitches call it home now, too. Not unlike all of this,” she muttered to herself.
She kicked at the ground with her boot, and the wards flared bright red for a moment in a spiderweb pattern emanating out from where she’d struck the ground.
She frowned. “When did you lay these?”
“How many drakens are on your island?” I asked, unable to help myself.”
“Why?” she fired back.
Mutters broke out behind me.
Other drakens.
My pulse raced at the possibility.
“Your son wanted to leave?” Kieran said gently.
Nerissa withdrew a piece of crumpled parchment from her pocket.
“It was among my son’s things. It says,‘Meet me beyond Aldur’s wall. The others wait.’”
Ronan reached for the parchment, and Nerissa let him study it. Wren leaned forward, trying to see.
“ ‘The others,’ ” I repeated, my voice a blade. “Who? No one from Lyoness sent that.”
“I don’t know,” Nerissa snapped. “Anar never finished the journey to find out, obviously.”
Kieran leaned in, brow furrowed. “Could it be yet another enclave of drakens? Surely not this close to us. Or maybe it was Thad?”
My heart dropped into my stomach. Was I such a worthless king that were all these surviving drakens and I never knew?
“No, surely not,” I whispered.
Unimaginable.
Wren’s expression flickered between curiosity and worry. “Or it’s a trap.”
My wings shifted, restless. I could think of another draken relatively nearby who wanted nothing to do with us or Lyoness.
“No,” I grumbled. “I bet it’s Thad.”
Wren shook her head.
“Thad is good. You know this. He took all the demons out of Dorea and back over the mountains,” she argued.
“And one of my unmated females with him,” I grumbled.
Wren’s wings flared, flashing her fangs at me.
“Xana could not mate. She didn’twantto mate.”
“Who else would be stirring trouble out west?” I argued. “He’s been beyond the wall for months: no word, no trace. Now a note appears, mentioning Aldur, and a draken dies chasing it.” My voice rose. “He’s recruiting survivors. Gathering power.”
