Page 4 of Courting the Dragon King

Konrad’s younger half-siblings had flown in for the funeral. However, his aunt, the grand dragon warrior, and his sister, Liesel, remained in Draconia, running the kingdom. There had been some talk of them coming, but considering how fragile everything was, it was decided they should remain in Draconia.

There had also been some discussion of holding the funeral in Draconia. But the grand monk had suggested it be held here at the White Monastery instead, saying the occasion would bring everyone together and perhaps renew the determination to finalise the treaty.

Konrad had been uncertain about that. But he thought that holding the funeral here meant his father’s killers might attend. It would give him a chance to examine everyone and see if anyone looked suspicious.

He gazed over those in attendance. They stood, faces sombre. But he could not miss the furtive glances, the whispers, and the mistrust lingering in everyone’s eyes. The attacks had everyone on edge.

He scanned the faces of those from the Grey Mountains, Botanial, Zephyrias, and Voltaria, all of whom had been Draconia’s enemies during the war that lasted twenty years. Despite that, he did not despise them with every fibre of his being.

No, he only felt that way towards one of their previous enemies, the necromancers of Necros.

His gaze turned towards them and fixed on Shadow Prince Wraith Grimm. Konrad’s betrothed. Konrad had had little to do with the shadow prince. But he was a necromancer. What more did Konrad need to know?

He’d hated the necromancers ever since he first fought them. That hatred had grown with every battle against Necros until it consumed him. Anton’s face flickered before his eyes. He gave a small shake of his head. He couldn’t think of that now.

Konrad had never understood why the necromancers wanted the treaty. The other enemy kingdoms had all been weakened by the war. The same was true for Draconia.

But the necromancers had not weakened. They gained strength from death. As a result, they’d been getting stronger as the war progressed.

Konrad had fought so many battles against the necromancers. Whilst Draconia had won some, they’d lost more. He’d never spoken the words aloud, but he’d doubted they could ever truly defeat the necromancers.

So why does Necros want peace?

When it became apparent that forces were working against the treaty here at the White Monastery, he’d assumed immediately it was the necromancers. Konrad had believed that without a shadow of a doubt.

He hadn’t thought of any alternatives. He’d not considered any of those from Botanial, the Grey Mountains, or Zephyrias, nor had he believed his own stepmother might be a threat. And as a result, his father now lay dead.

Konrad had been so sure, so certain in his gut that Necros was behind it all, he’d looked nowhere else, even oblivious to the threat within his own family. His father had even berated him for being too focused on the necromancers, telling him to keep his eyes and mind open.

Am I to blame for Father’s death? Was I too distracted, so fixated that it made me unable to see or consider any other threats?

If he’d been looking properly, Konrad might have seen the true traitors. But he hadn’t, and he’d failed. That failure had cost his father’s life. Now the treaty hung on by a thread. He stared at his father’s still face, frozen in death.

I’m sorry for failing you, Father.

He hung his head. And because of his failings, Draconia now had an inexperienced king in a time when they desperately needed a strong and competent ruler.

“We must continue to fight for peace, despite the horrors and setbacks that have been dealt us recently,” the grand monk’s voice echoed over the crowd. “Some think peace is easy to come by. But that is false. It must be fought for. Sacrifices must be made. We must commit and strive for it with every inch of our being.”

The grand monk’s voice trembled as he spoke; he was clearly moved by his own words. But that was not surprising. After all, the Monks of the Way of the Dove had dedicated their lives to peace. “So take heart if you are wavering or have doubts. We must keep striving to make this a better world.”

Konrad still believed that the necromancers were evil. He still wished them all dead. His gut still told him they were the ones plotting against the peace treaty. But he could no longer trust his gut. After all, it had led him wrong previously.

The necromancers were abhorrent. Nothing would change Konrad’s opinion on that. But that didn’t necessarily mean they did not want the peace treaty to succeed. Nor did it make them part of some grand plot.

So for now, he’d obey his father and keep his promise. He’d marry a vile necromancer. He’d strive with everything he had to obtain peace for his kingdom and do his duty as king whilst trying to work out who was trying to stop the treaty.

That was all he could do for his father now. He just hoped he would not fail him again.

He scanned the crowd again, before finally resting his gaze on Shadow Prince Wraith Grimm once more. Most in the crowd stared at the funeral pyre, or at the grand monk. But the shadow prince stared in Konrad’s direction. But not at Konrad directly. He stared over Konrad’s shoulder. At nothing.

The skin on the back of Konrad’s neck prickled. Unable to help himself, he glanced over his shoulder. There was nothing there. He looked back at the shadow prince, who kept staring over Konrad’s shoulder. Konrad ran his tongue over the front of his teeth.

What a fucking creep. Like all necromancers.

The shadow prince had a deathly beauty, with unblemished pale skin. He was slender, too slender. He appeared fragile and frail, like a strong wind would knock him over. Long silken black hair hung around his shoulders.

Konrad could not deny how beautiful he was. But there was an unsettling aspect to his appearance. To Konrad, he appeared so pale and deathlike that he reminded Konrad of a corpse brought back to life.