Page 112 of Courting the Dragon King

Shadow King Lament, Vex, Harrow, along with other necromancers, stood towards the front of the crypt.

“Come.” His mother strode forward.

“What is this place?” Wraith asked.

“It’s a crypt for the monks,” she said as they passed through the undead army, who stood still and silent. The dread knights, however, watched them pass.

“Do the monks know we are down here?”

Necromancers tended to gravitate towards the dead, either where the remains were buried or where individuals died. It gave them additional strength. But he could not imagine the monks wanting them here.

His mother didn’t answer his question.

Wraith looked out the window as they approached it. Originally, when they’d gone down the stairs, he’d assumed they’d going underground. However, the window looked out over the monastery and its rooftops.

I really got turned around.

He recognised several features but could only name the East Tower in the distance. Then his attention refocused to what was occurring within the crypt.

The shadow king, Wraith’s siblings, and four necromancers all gathered around a large stone altar at the front of the crypt. Other necromancers stood in a line, keeping their gazes on the reanimated, who no doubt were under their control.

The four necromancers surrounding the altar stood one on each side. They all wore masks, created to look like human skulls. All wore gold amulets with large black sapphires. The black sapphires glowed, which meant they held death energy, harvested from human sacrifices.

A skeleton had been laid out and arranged neatly on the stone. Candles circled the bones.

“We call and bind you. We call and bind you. We call and bind you,” three necromancers chanted in unison.

Despite her wearing a mask, Wraith could tell that the fourth necromancer, the one not chanting, was his Aunt Shade, the high priestess. She stood by the head of the skeleton and dipped her fingers into a bowl of ash. She then leaned forward and drew something just above the skull.

“Who are they bringing back?” Wraith asked.

The shadow queen smiled. “Dragon King Alaric of Draconia.”

Chapter

Fifty-Five

“Here. Take this message to Warden Onyx or Luther. And be quick.” Konrad handed the note to the servant.

The servant rushed from the strategy room, clutching the parchment in his hand.

“I’ve sent notes to our siblings and all the other rulers, except the necromancers, of course, telling them to meet us in the western corridor meeting room.” Konrad came out from behind the desk and approached one of the guards. He took his scabbard and sword from the man and put it on.

Konrad did not know what they would face today, but he would not face it unarmed. “How is the wound?”

“Fine.” Gerard gritted his teeth as Healer Doran tended to his arm. His sleeve hung in tatters, torn by the hellhound’s fangs. Blood stained his skin and clothes.

But the healer’s magic seemed to be doing its work. Gerard’s wound had already closed.

“You’ll be completely healed in no time,” said Healer Doran. “There won’t even be any scarring whatsoever.” The healer froze, gaze darting to Gerard’s scarred face. He looked away.

“That’s something at least.” Konrad hoped the guards wounded by Umbra would also have similar outcomes.

Elias stood by Gerard. He pursed his lips. “I just can’t believe that Wraith betrayed us. It doesn’t make sense to me.” He hesitated. “And he seemed genuinely distressed and shocked by the allegations.”

“He’s a good actor,” Konrad snapped. “Like you.”

“I don’t think so.” Elias shook his head. “Also, I don’t see how this fits with what we already know. I mean, Warden Flint was plotting against Draconia and the peace treaty, and he was working with someone. But surely it wasn’t the necromancers.”