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“Of course, I do. You have the look of your father, King Aurdyn.” She leans in, scrutinizing me with a piercing gaze. “Did you inherit his cruel nature as well?”
She refers to his handling of the Dwarves who dared try to cross into our borders by tunneling beneath our mountain in search of treasure. He set fire to the tunnels, killing them all even after they had begged for mercy.
“I amnotmy father,” I state firmly. “Now, tell me what I want to know.”
“First,you tell mewhat this human is to you,” she counters.
I level a dark glare at her. I do not have time for these games. “She is my T’kara—my Fated One.”
Trian’s eyes widen, and she blinks several times. “You are certain?”
“Of course I am,” I grind out. “Now, tell me what you know.”
She steps closer and holds up her hands. “Will you allow me?”
Dark smoke puffs from my nostrils as they flare. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“Please,” she says. “I must check something.”
Clenching my jaw, I bite back my temper and give her a subtle nod.
Trian closes her eyes as she waves her hands over me, assessing me as she did Freyja.
She inhales sharply and her gaze drops to my T’kara in wonder. “She is a sanishon—one of the Great Uniters from the prophecy of the ancient tomes of the Lythyrian.”
“Sanishon,” I repeat darkly, eyeing her with suspicion. “How do you know this term? And what does it have to do with anything?”
“All who wish for times of peace know of the prophecy,” she explains. “It is said the sanishons will possess great powers, unlike anything seen among their kind before.” She puts a hand to her chest, bowing slightly to my T’kara in sacred reverence. “And they will use it to conquer those who would seek to control the darkness, ushering in an era of peace.”
Worry floods my veins. The last thing I want is for rumors of Freyja’s magic to spread, putting her in even more danger than she already is. “The prophecy is a story—a myth—nothing more.”
“It is truth.” Conviction burns in Trian’s eyes. “Andsheis a sanishon—an Outsider like the ones foretold, that will unite the other races and bring an end to the darkness that would lead us to war.”
“Enough!” I snap, baring my fangs. “Your superstitious drivel will only serve to place her in danger, old woman.”
“Whether you believe it or not, it doesn’t matter,” she states firmly. “She is a sanishon of the prophecy. It is the only explanation for what I felt when I assessed her. As your fated mate, the gods have given her the ability to conjure your Dragon’s fire—a power gifted to her through your bond.” She pauses. “This is how it is explained in the prophecy.”
I clench my jaw. “If she is what you say—a herald of an era of peace—why does the Order of Mages want her dead?”
“The Mages claim to protect the humans from the other races, but in truth, they control the human kingdoms with their powers. Magic like hers is dangerous to their rule.”
“Why do the Mages care if humans possess magic when almost all Otherworldly beings do as well?”
She shakes her head. “I do not know. I only know the Mages bind the human kingdoms so that no Otherworldly beings can access their powers in those lands. In return for this protection, the humans allow the Mages to enforce the laws of the Order, executing any humans discovered practicing magic.”
I understand the Mages not wanting any humans to possess power in the lands they control, but why do they care about a humanoutsideof the kingdoms they supposedly protect? And why would they want to murder one they believe is a sanishon, when the prophecy says their coming will herald in an age of peace?
“You wonder why the Mages want her dead for being a sanishon.” The Dwarf healer’s words echo my thoughts. “I do not have an answer for this.”
“Are you reading my mind somehow, old woman?” I snarl.
“Calm yourself, Dragon King.” A faint smirk twists her lips. “If I was able to read minds, I’d probably be half mad by now. But we Dwarves are not the simple creatures your kind imagine us to be. I am simply smarter than you think I am.”
She steps closer, and I bristle slightly at her bold manner. “Calm,” she murmurs. “I need to assess your wing.”
I clench my jaw against the dull ache in the main left joint, forgotten until just now. “I am fine.”
“Can you fly?” She arches a brow.
