Rhys shot to his feet. Chairs scraped. Ashem’s mouth snapped shut. Voices rang through the Council chamber.
“What?”
“Who was that?”
Rhys looked to Ashem, who nodded and headed for the hall. He didn’t make it five steps before a cry of pain sliced through the uproar, stunning everyone in the room to silence.
Sunder me. He knew that voice.
Guards ringed the line of slender, carved columns that separated the Council chamber from the rest of Eryri. Rhys saw them form a line, blocking someone. But it took less than a breath for them to give way before her.
Morwenna.
“Kinswoman Morwenna!” snapped Nerys, the councilwoman for Clan Draig, “What is the meaning of this?”
“Council sessions are not to be disrupted!” Leonidas, one of the three Council Leaders and member of Clan Derkin, could bellow like a bull when he was angry.
“You’ll be glad I disrupted you for this.” Morwenna yanked a small figure from behind her. She dragged the kicking, clawing, sobbing mess forward then pulled her up short in the open center of the Council table. Her fingers tangled in long, black hair, Morwenna yanked, forcing her prisoner’s chin up and back.
Kai.
The world went white.
When Rhys could see again, he was in the center of the doughnut-shaped table, as well. He held Kai against him with one hand. The other had Morwenna by the collar. His voice echoed from the high ceiling, a horrible, grinding snarl. “If you touch her again, I will incinerate you.”
He released Morwenna, and she staggered back. Her collar was blackened, a curl of smoke rising past her open mouth and wide, dark eyes. She touched the burned place, and the scorched gray fabric crumbled, smearing her fingers. “I...I...” Her gaze fell from Rhys to Kai. “It’s true.”
“What is true?” Council Leader Kansoleh’s voice cut through his rage like a cold knife, and Rhys shook his head to clear the last vestiges of mindless rage. The Council chamber came back into focus. Every single person in the room was staring. He looked down at Kai, who gazed at him with wide, terrified eyes.
“Blood of the Ancients,” he whispered, “what have I done?”
Morwenna’s face held all the anguish and embarrassment he’d tried so desperately to save her from. “You’re heartsworn? This girl is your heartsworn? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Rhys swallowed. “I—”
Kai squirmed. Mascara streaked her freckled cheeks and her venom-filled green eyes fixed on Morwenna. In a voice rimed with frost, she said, “Let me go.”
He loosened his hold, and Kai placed herself directly between Rhys and Morwenna. She was so small that the top of her mussed head didn’t even come to his collarbone. “I told you,” she grated at Morwenna.
“Majesty, will you explain?” Kansoleh leaned forward, her palms flat on the dark table, eyes flashing.
“I...” Rhys’s eyes caught on the burned spot on Morwenna’s collar. Ashem came around the table to take Morwenna by the arm, red mottling his bronze skin. He looked shockingly like Kavar when Rhys had used fire on him.
“You lied.” Powell’s voice rang out, almost gleeful. “You lied to your people. Ti ddim yn ablach i fod yn frenin!”
You are not fit to be king.
Rhys’s mouth went dry. He watched as some of the Council turned from him. Horror drowned him in a slow, deadly tide. All the power he’d scraped together. All the effort and blood spilled over the course of his life—meaningless.
Next to Ashem, Morwenna had tears on her cheeks.
He had failed.
Everything, lost.
“No,” Kai said softly. She was glaring at the still-shouting Council. No one heard. “For the love. Be quiet!” she shouted.
Shocked silence descended. Pressure around his fingers. Rhys looked down. Kai had a death grip on his hand. Numbly, he squeezed back.
She took a breath. He’d never thought of her as having a loud voice, but now it resonated throughout the chamber. “It was me.”
Ancients, she was shaking. Powell exchanged glances with the Draig councilwoman, Nerys. Kansoleh and the other two Council Leaders stood, arms crossed, their faces expressionless. Citlali, with her snapping dark eyes, drummed quick, long-nailed fingers against the table, her brows drawn together in consternation. She had seen Kai two months ago, when the Invisible came to Seattle, but hadn’t known about the heartswearing.
Kai addressed the Council Leaders. “It’s my fault. I asked Rhys to keep our heartswearing a secret. I was afraid.”
The Council buzzed, but they were silenced by Kansoleh. “Majesty, if you would explain?”
Rhys fought to keep his voice steady. Anything he did to cover this up would only make it worse. Ancients, ten minutes. Ten minutes until he’d been going to announce Kai himself. Now every person present would think him a liar and coward.
They weren’t wrong.
“Honored Council Leaders and Council members, I would like to present Kai Kiera Monahan, Wingless. She’s my heartsworn, and Queen of Dragons.”
The silence fractured into outrage and shouts of betrayal, yells for silence, calls to hear the whole story, people questioning when and how long. In the midst of the chaos, Kai stood tall, her chin up, meeting the eyes of every dragon who looked at her.
“Majesty, will you tell us how this came to be?” asked the Mo’o councilwoman.
Rhys swallowed.Seeing Kai in the midst of the Council was like watching two worlds collide. “You’ll remember that two months ago, my vee was attacked while in North America. Kai found Princess Aderyn wounded and brought her to us. Then, when Kavar attacked, she saved my life and distracted him long enough for the rest of my vee to get to me.” Rhys looked down at Kai, grateful to her for filling the moments when he hadn’t known what to say, for trying to mitigate the damage. “I’m sorry.”
Her face softened. Tentatively, she squeezed his hand.
There were more questions. About where Kai had been, what measures were already in place for her family. Rhys told as much of the truth as he dared. Ashem cut in when they asked how Kai had gotten to Eryri, saying, “We’ve told you that she is friends with my own heartsworn. You all know where I was for the past two months.”
“No one saw you fly in with her,” protested Powell. “We met you. You had your heartsworn and no one else.”
Ashem scowled, voice disdainful. “I am Azhdahā.”
Rhys spoke before the questions could start again. “This meeting of the Council is adjourned. I need to announce my heartswearing to the people.”
They were already whispering to each other, casting him dark looks. He heard liar, Wingless. And then, Warbringer.
He needed to escape. Think. To come up with a plan and deal with the repercussions of his lies. “If there’s nothing else—”
“The business regarding the prisoner Kavar is unresolved,” said the Bida councilman, his tightly curled gray hair a stark contrast to the cool umber of his skin.
Rhys looked to Ashem. Ancients, he had tried. He had gone to Kavar again before the meeting—a last-ditch attempt to soften the blow of a Wingless queen with some kind of useful information—with no better luck. He needed leverage, and he needed it now.
At Rhys’s look, Ashem’s face hardened. He gave a small nod.
Feeling treacherous, Rhys addressed the Council. “As you have requested, Commander Ashem Azhdahā will question the prisoner. This meeting is adjourned.”
He and Kai walked from the room with everyone’s eyes boring into their backs. It was less crowded in the hall, and Kai visibly relaxed.
Rhys couldn’t. Not when their troubles were just beginning.
Chapter Sixteen
The People Will Remember
Seren sat upon a dais that separated her from th
e world. Golden lattice arched between her and everyone else in the room, preventing her from touching or being touched. As always, she wasn’t truly part of what was happening in front of her.
On her chair next to Seren, Iolani hissed air through her teeth. “Scales for brains, the lot of them.”
Seren pressed her lips together, silently agreeing.
Just outside her bubble, three hundred dragons and Wingless argued, and the arguments were quickly devolving into a riot. Her audience chamber was enormous—large enough by far to hold the crowd. But the normally serene room with its arching white ceiling, streaming sunlight, miniature ponds of fish and abundant vegetation felt tight and hot with anger.
Seren folded her hands inside the wide cuffs of her sleeves. The more their anger grew, the stiller she became. Rhys’s public announcement of his heartswearing to Kai had happened an hour ago. Within moments, dragons had begun streaming to her. Seeking comfort. Seeking truth. Seeking mediation.
Some, she thought bitterly, had come seeking to punish Rhys with Seren’s power to make promises binding. If Rhys swore to Seren he would have no more secrets from his people, as some fool had suggested, he would be forced to tell them everything he’d ever wanted to keep to himself or be plagued with shakes, nausea, and vomiting. Seren was all for a transparent government, but a king who couldn’t keep some secrets from his people would also be unable to keep them from his enemies.
Then, twenty minutes ago, Rhys had arrived. He stood with Kai and the rest of his vee on the right side of the room. All except Morwenna, who had fled to who-knew-where after the scene in the Council chamber. One hundred or so of the Wingless of Eryri stood with them, as did almost all of the Mo’o and Citlali.
A third of the dragons, Seren thought, were only there because they’d heard Kai was. They wanted to see her, and they’d stayed to see what would happen. They milled around the back and in the middle.
Opposite Rhys, Powell and the anti-Wingless zealot Ceri were calling for blood.
Ceri no longer sat on the Council for Clan Draig, but that didn’t mean people had stopped listening to her. A thousand years before, she’d warned them about Mair, and she’d been right.
“He can’t control who he’s heartsworn to,” Ashem barked, a murderous expression on his face.
“He can if he doesn’t touch anyone unsuited to the position,” Powell shouted.
Rhys moved—unconsciously, Seren thought—to block Kai with his body. “I heartswore because I caught her when she fell from a height that could have killed her. You’re suggesting I should have let her fall?”
Powell kept his eyes on Rhys. “You know how I feel about human casualties, Majesty.”
Kai shoved Rhys aside. “Listen, you fat, dogface gecko—”
Rhys grabbed Kai and pulled her back against him, covering her mouth, only to bare his teeth at Powell when the old man called Kai a disgusting name.
That was enough of that.
Seren stood, and the room fell silent. She made sure her voice was serene.
Always serene.
“You will not speak so in my presence, Powell ap Henbeddestyr. Wingless or not, human or not, Kai Monahan is the king’s heartsworn, and your queen. You shame yourself.”
The men and women standing behind Powell and Ceri shuffled, many looking at their feet. Seren had spent her life comforting these people. Counseling them. Listening to them. Only rarely had she rebuked them. The effect—calm as her voice had been—was palpable.
Ceri lifted her chin, her steel-gray eyes the same color as her cropped, chain-decorated hair. “My Lady, King Rhys has always been aware if the importance of his heartswearing. As soon as he knew the human girl was going to be around for several days, he should have taken precautions. Does not the Seeress wear gloves and a veil? If she must protect herself from unwanted heartswearing, shouldn’t the king?”
Bitterness welled inside Seren. No. None of us should.
Ceri wasn’t finished. “We cannot undo the heartswearing and give the king a more suitable mate, but something must be done to ensure that this...Wingless doesn’t cause the same problems as her predecessor.”
Seren’s stomach tightened at Ceri’s words. She’d been afraid of this. So far, the people’s anger had been focused on Rhys—who, in some ways, deserved it. After all, he had lied. But Kai had done nothing wrong.
“Kai is not the Warbringer.” Rhys, used to dealing with the Council, didn’t have a hard time making himself heard over the cacophony. But for all his experience, he couldn’t hide the desperation in his voice.
Council Leader Leonidas moved from Rhys’s side to the empty space between groups. He glared, silent, until the dragons went quiet. “None of us are happy with the actions of the king. He’s shown a lack of trust in himself, in his mate and in us.”
Rhys visibly stiffened.
Leonidas swept his arm out, indicating the crowd behind Powell and Ceri. “But I can see why he’s done it. How many of you would allow your heartsworn to stand in front of a mob while they debate the merit of his or her life? While they dare debate whether or not you should have let them die, given that chance, rather than risked heartswearing to them?”
Leonidas shook his head. “The king’s punishment has been given—the damage he’s caused, the faith we’ve lost, cannot be restored by anything except time. The Council will always remember being lied to. The people will remember that their king does not trust them.”
Seren flinched. Leonidas’s words were harsh, but true. Though he wasn’t sparing Rhys any humiliation, he was placating those who had demanded more.
“What of the Wingless?” Ceri’s voice was filled with cold fire. “I move that she be removed from the king’s presence and imprisoned. We cannot allow her to give Owain the opportunity to sunder herself and his Majesty, as Mair did.”
Leonidas had anger in his eyes now. “Guilty or innocent, Mair is dead. She paid the price long ago.”
Seren pressed her lips together. Mair was in no way dead, and if what Deryn had said was true, she’d gained enough followers that soon everyone would know it. Next to Rhys, Deryn opened her mouth as if she wanted to speak. Then she closed it again.
Ceri strode up to Rhys, ignoring Kai. “Put the Wingless in a cell where she can do no harm. Visit her when you have to—we’ll need an heir, after all—but choose a dragon to live by your side and be your queen. I will not recognize another Wingless as my queen. If you refuse, I will leave, and I will not be the only one.”
Kai shrank back against Rhys, grasped his hands with hers until her knuckles went white “You can’t do that.”
Seren stepped down from the dais, holding her breath. Ceri’s solution was cruel to Kai, but to the dragons, it would make sense. Rhys could take another companion any time he liked, and if he chose to do so, he probably wouldn’t have a problem getting the Council to grant his choice the authority of a queen. Some would be uncomfortable replacing his natural heartsworn, but a dragon would be familiar with their ways. With the war. A dragon would be able to fight alongside Rhys. Taking a dragon queen might be a wise decision.
Except the thought made Seren sick.
“No.” Rhys pulled Kai closer, so her back was against his chest. “Leonidas is right, and I’m sorry I lied. But let me show my trust in you by showing my trust in her. Give her a chance. If you can’t...” He shook his head. “I’m not my father. I cannot—nor would I—use the mantle to coerce you to stay. I have made my choice. You must make yours.”
Kai turned in Rhys’s arms and spoke too low for Seren to hear. Rhys nodded, then met Seren’s eyes. “With your permission, my Lady Seeress, we’ll hold the pledging ceremony tomorrow.”
“As you have said, Majesty, so it will be.” Seren smiled at her brother and his mate, but her happiness tasted sour. Rhys and Kai were right for each other—she c
ould see it in the way they touched. The way they looked at each other. At the same time, the Seeress—the part of Seren that had been trained to keep peace among her people—was worried.
There would be consequences for this.
Rhys bowed to Seren and led Kai from the room, the crowd parting around them like water.
The murmuring picked up as he left. Before it could turn to shouts, Seren raised her hands, palms up. “Nothing done in haste is done well. We would not judge a dragon because a member of their clan had done wrong in the past. We must give Kai the same courtesy.”
Two hours later, last of the crowd dispersed. But not before Seren had spoken with nearly every one of them.
The next morning, Iolani brought word that over one hundred and twenty dragons had left Eryri in the night—one-tenth of Rhys’s army was gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Crash ’’Course in Dragon
Kai’s breath came in gasps. She crouched, gripping long daggers in hands slick with sweat. Stick me in a room and use me like a breeder. I’ll turn that woman into a pincushion. Or she would have, if the old bat hadn’t flown away.
“Again!” Deryn spun forward, a whirlwind of blades and long, auburn braid. She slammed into Kai and tried to slip one of her own daggers under Kai’s guard. With a grunt and a twist, Kai broke away and rolled across the sandy floor of Rhys’s training room.
Perched on a stool by the wall, Ffion called, “Name the serpent-dragon clans and tell me their defining feature.”
Kai panted. They’d been at this all day—Deryn drilling her in weaponry while Ffion taught her about dragons. Doing both at once was brutal, but worth it. Only intense mental and physical engagement had been enough take Kai’s mind off the Council meeting and what had come after. Especially once Rhys had been off again, dealing with plans for the pledging—which, for some reason, hadn’t included much of her input. Then this morning there had been the fallout of so many dragons abandoning Eryri.
Rhys. In a few short hours, they would be pledged. It wasn’t like that was a big deal. Not compared to everything else. But still, they’d be official.
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