“What do you want?” Cedric snapped, feeling foolish for being caught in this situation.
“The King requests your presence in the throne room. Immediately.” The guard had yet to raise his eyes to meet Cedric's.
“I see.” Cedric glanced at Lianna. “And why is the King not watching the Tournament?”
“The competition has broken for the noon-day repast, my lord.”
How had time flown so swiftly? He cleared his throat to break the uncomfortable silence. “Very well. I will escort the lady to her own chambers, and then I will attend the King.” He knew the words sounded stiff, knew the guard could tell the King everything he had seen, and Cedric would swing from the gallows in the morning. “Phillip.”
The guard finally raised his eyes at the mention of his name.
“I trust that you will keep what you saw here to yourself.”
“Aye, my lord.” The guard's cheeks flushed a ruddy red.
“My Dragons do not always settle for simple animal meat.” He needed a threat, but he struggled to harness
strength behind his words to make them sound a little less empty.
Phillip's eyes flickered. “Aye, my lord. Your secret is safe with me.”
Cedric stared at him, mentally juggling the man's capacity to be trusted, and nodded to Lianna. “After you,” he murmured. She passed him, her gaze on the floor.
He followed her out the door, and the guard shut the heavy oak panel behind him with a resounding boom in the echoing hallway.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sebastian
Sebastian shook off dark thoughts as the Pixiedimn victor strode forward, his Pixie at his side. The two bowed in front of the throne.
“Rise up, lad.” Sebastian took a scroll from Pomley's hand and opened it. “I see you are the victor of the latest Pixie competition.”
“Aye, Your Grace. Sage did a remarkable job.”
“And you, master.” Sage's breathy voice spoke quickly beside him. “You won the victory.”
Sebastian hid a smile. It wasn't often that creatures fell in love with their psuches, but it did happen occasionally. Amusement stirred inside him at the unassuming, quiet creature who would live a life of unrequited passion. He could see her teetering on the edge of nothingness, clutching at straws, like Selena. He pushed back a laugh, thankful at least for a distraction after the savage shock he'd just received with the girl and her Mirage.
“Indeed, you are both to be praised. I have high hopes for this Tournament, and it is well that you ride the crest of my favor. I will perhaps be able to grant your families more benefits after the Tournament when you both join my army. Five hundred sceptremarks apiece, I believe, is the usual purse for the winners.”
Julian shook his head. “If Your Grace sees fit to bestow your favors, rather than settling money on us, may I be permitted to make a request instead?”
Interest sparked in Sebastian's mind. This was different. He kept his face severe as he stared at Julian, but the lad did not flinch. “Speak on.”
“Your Grace, I would be most appreciative if you would release the girl into my keeping, she and her Pixie friend, so that I may accompany them back to the Clan at the end of the Tournament.”
“The girl!” Surprise rifted Sebastian's insides. He had not expected this. “The Dragondimn girl?”
“She is no Dragondimn, Your Grace. She is from the Pixie Clan and has been my friend from childhood, but for some unknown reason, her mark will not stay. It is not her fault that she was unable to show you her mark when she entered the court today.”
Tense silence pervaded the hall. Sebastian counted slowly in his head until he was sure he could speak in a normal tone. He loosened his white-knuckled grip on the throne's armrests and stretched his fingers. After a long moment, he spoke. “I admire your spine, young master. You enter this hall and command your King to release a girl to you. Is she someone special, perhaps?”
A flush crept along Julian's cheeks. Sebastian consciously relaxed his jaw. It would do no good to show this callow-faced youth his plans for the girl. He tightened his lips and shook his head. “I have no wish to deliver the girl from her cell at the moment, Pixie. However, I would offer you the position as head of the Pixie formations in my army, should you so wish.”
Julian's mouth dropped open. “But Your Grace, I have yet to win the final bracket in the Tournament.”
“Ah.” Sebastian leaned forward. “Plans change. You may find that you have already fought your final Tournament battle.”
Confusion creased the boy's eyebrows.
Sebastian continued. “I like what I see, young master. Your conviction rings in your voice. You've won a bracket already by proving that you have a mind that thinks ahead, that plans. I like that. I'm willing to grant you this position, should you be willing to take it.”
Julian stared at him, and Sebastian met the dark eyes without blinking. He would be true to his word; let the boy read him all he wanted.
But then Julian shook his head. “Nay, Your Grace. I cannot accept.”
Sebastian's eyes widened. He stood abruptly, towering over the boy from the dais. “What do you mean you cannot accept? I'm offering you the chance to lead thousands of Pixies, Julian Pixiedimn. Why would you turn it down?”
“Because I love Kinna, Your Grace. I will do anything in my power to free her.”
Sebastian stared at Julian, pieces of the plan he'd already formed reconstructing and reorganizing beneath the boy's ardent declaration. He paced the length of the platform. Pomley stumbled back from where he stood in the King's path. Lanier and some of the other generals watched him, tension on their faces. Should Julian accept the King's proposal, one of them would lose his position.
“You say you love the girl.” Sebastian faced Julian. “You would deny your family the tax breaks and the benefits that would come their way as a result of your victory and your inclusion as a ranking leader in my armies?”
Julian dropped his gaze for the first time. “The favor I beg of you remains the same, Your Grace. All the privilege in the world means nothing to me if Kinna is not safe and free. I cannot live without her.”
Sebastian shook his head, his glance taking in the lovelorn Pixie's white face at this exchange. Her gaze was glued to the stones in front of them. Her hands clasped each other tightly.
Sebastian returned to his throne and sank down onto it, gripping the arm rests as he leaned forward. “How about an exchange, young master?”
“An exchange?” Julian's dark gaze clouded with confusion.
“You serve in my armies for a year in the capacity I just mentioned, as head of the Pixies. When you return home, you will bring Kinna to the palace, and I myself will preside over your nuptials.” The lie slid off his tongue smoothly; the boy's face colored beneath the weight of the words.
“I do not know that Kinna regards me in that way, sire.”
Sebastian guffawed. “Does it matter? Nay, it is the only way I will release her and her Pixie friend. I will open the cell this moment if you will agree to my request.”
A flash of uncertainty lit Julian's eyes. “And if I don't?”
Sebastian twisted his mouth into a tight smile. “Then I will see her head separated from her body by my headsman come morning.”
“No!” Julian's face blanched, and Sage flinched.
“It is your choice, young master.”
Julian's gaze bored into Sebastian's, and Sebastian could feel the hatred that wrapped the young man's emotions. So much the better. If he could channel that hatred into warfare, how much more effective would the Pixiedimn be in pitched battle?
“You would—kill Kinna, simply because you wish me to lead your Pixies?”
“Aye. I've done similar things and worse, lad, so know that I will always keep my word.”
The lad's cheeks paled, and at last, he nodded. “It would seem that I have no choice.”
Sebastian c
huckled. “Don't look so heart-broken, young master. There are worse fates than wedding the girl you love.”
“Aye, Your Grace,” Julian bowed. “But there is no worse fate than not having that love returned.”
The boy's Pixie blanched yet again. Sebastian's mouth curved into a smile. He stood once more. “Then I suggest you work to change her mind before the wedding, Julian, for you are well and truly betrothed now.” He dismissed the lad and turned to Pomley.
“Release the girl and her Pixie friend, but see that they do not leave the Palace grounds. And send a message to the Dragon-Master that I wish to see him immediately.”
“Aye, Your Grace.” Pomley hurried through the side door, and Sebastian strode restlessly on the dais.
“Lanier,” he said, stopping suddenly. “What think you of the Pixiedimn lad? Will he serve us well?”
Lanier's dark gaze did not flinch as he eyed Sebastian. “It matters not what I think, Your Grace. You have made it clear that you value other opinions above my own.”
“And thank you for making your opinion of me so clear.” Sebastian snapped his fingers, and two guards appeared on either side of Lanier, wresting his arms and pulling backward.
“Your Grace! What is this?” Lanier's shouts echoed along the hall as he was dragged from the throne room. “Sebastian! I have served you well!”
As his shouts died away, Sebastian stared at the dark doorway. “Aye, old friend, indeed you have. It is a pity that a good thing never lasts. Best to clear away the leftover good before the evil takes over.”
His remaining generals shifted nervously behind him, and Sebastian glanced back at them. “Take care lest the same happen to you.”
A noise in the doorway arrested his attention, and a palace guard hurried toward him. As soon as the guard reached the dais, he sank to a knee. “Your Grace.”
“Aye, what is it?” Sebastian was impatient. He needed Cedric here now, and then he wished to attend the afternoon Tournament events with Lianna, whom he hadn't seen all morning. If all went according to plan, this evening would be the last event of this year's Tournament, so his last chance to enjoy the matches was this afternoon.
“Your Grace, I have just come from delivering your message to the Dragon-Master.”
“Aye?”
“He—he was in his bedchamber with the Lady Lianna, Your Grace. He is escorting her back to her own chambers as we speak.”
“What say you?” Sebastian roared. “He dares to lay a hand on the King's betrothed?”
The guard tipped his head nervously. “He swore me to secrecy, Your Grace, threatened to feed me to his Dragons. I tell you this at great personal risk.”
Sebastian thought his head would explode. “You seek a reward? For playing the gossip and telling me of my lady's unfaithfulness?”
The guard tried to backpedal. “She—wasn't unfaithful, from what I saw, Your Grace. They were merely in each other’s arms, but...”
“QUIET, lout! Get out of my sight!” Sebastian pointed at the exit, his arm shaking in his rage. He needed to gain control, and soon; Cedric would stand before him in only a few moments.
The guard stumbled as he ran for the door. Sebastian whirled, his pacing growing frenetic, his mind spinning. Calm, he must regain his calm. His plans were already in place. All of this would end tonight. He simply needed to keep his head. Patience, he promised himself. Vengeance will be met tonight. He stopped his pacing, abruptly aware of his generals staring at him.
“Get out,” he hissed.
As one, they bowed and departed, leaving Sebastian utterly alone in the great, echoing throne room.
Sebastian sank onto the throne. It wasn't long until he heard footsteps on the stone floor. Cedric moved into his line of vision and bowed. When he straightened, he glanced at the empty places behind Sebastian's throne, no doubt wondering where the King's council stood.
“Dragon-Master.” Sebastian's voice betrayed none of his simmering rage. He flexed his shoulders and then relaxed them. This is your plan. Don't let anger deter you from it.
“Your Grace.”
“How goes the Tournament thus far? I have had no chance to watch the morning's events.”
Cedric hesitated. He glanced again at the empty area behind the throne. Tension laced his gaze. “Julian and his Pixie, Sage, won the Pixie bracket, Your Grace. Valaine from the Valkyries won the hour after that, and then Kensington of the Centaurs won the last one before the noon repast.”
“They are all doing well, are they not?”
Confusion flashed across Cedric's face. “Aye, Your Grace. I had no doubt that they would.”
“Who fights in the Dragon bracket tonight, Cedric?” He eyed the auburn-haired lad, pictured killing him here, right here in the throne room, commanding his guards to clean up the mess and throw it away. But that would not do.
He wanted the boy to suffer. Suffer cruelly—to hurt just as much as he wished the girl, the other spawn of his brother, to writhe. When Kinna had bowed before him that morning, he'd thought of an idea, a plan that would either deliver to him two Dragon-Masters, an unbreakable shield before Nicholas Erlane, or would wipe Liam's progeny from the face of this earth. Either option suited him well. Both outcomes played into his hands.
“By the brackets I had drawn up, it would be Natan with his Nine-Tail, O'Tam with his Poison-Quill, and Sinead with another Poison-Quill.”
“Two Poison-Quills.” Sebastian rubbed the hair on his chin thoughtfully. “What of the new Ember that sits in my dens? Have you no plans to try him?”
“He is not yet ready, Your Grace.”
“And what of the Mirage that arrived today?”
“I had not yet worked the Mirage into the brackets—”
“Why, what have you been doing, Dragon-Master, to keep you from working? Certainly not taking your pleasure with any palace wench, I hope.”
Cedric's eyes glinted. “What would you have me do, Your Grace?” The boy's hands squeezed into white-knuckled fists at his sides.
“You will cast aside what plans you had for the Dragon bracket this evening. Tonight, you will bring the Ember into the arena. The Mirage will appear with the girl that arrived with him. And you both will meet with four of the palace Dragons.”
“Four? That will be six in the arena. It will be too crowded to gain—”
“If I wanted your opinion, I would ask for it, Cedric. Six it will be, and moreover, the four palace Dragons will attempt to take down the Mirage and the Ember.”
Cedric's mouth hung ajar. In a moment, he gathered his words. “Your Grace, six in an arena when it is each Dragon for himself is madness. Six in an arena when the balance is four against two is the greatest of lunacies. How can—”
“How dare you question me?” Sebastian's voice was quiet and deadly. “Hear me, Dragon-Master. When I give an order, it shall be obeyed. If I say leap in a circle, you will do it. If I tell you to place six Dragons in an arena to fight to the death, you will do it, and if I command you to walk on water, you will find a way to do it or die in the attempt. Do you comprehend my words?”
Cedric's gaze was fastened to the floor. After a long moment, he jerked his head into a nod.
“Good. Then you will not question me when I say that this is to be the only match after supper.” He leaned forward, his eyes riveted on Cedric's. “Hear me. This is to be the final match of the Tournament. After tonight, there will be no more matches. It is to be a fight to the death—for the Dragons and the Dimn. Either the four palace Dragons and their Dimn will die before a victor is declared, or the Ember and the Mirage and their Dimn will. Is that clear?”
Cedric raised his eyes to meet Sebastian's, and once again, Sebastian found himself staring down a long, dark tunnel of hatred. Not that he minded; the feeling was quite mutual. Having the image of his brother march around the castle for the past winter had been bone-gnawing, but perhaps the end was in sight.
Cedric nodded and tur
ned, striding across the long throne room to the doors, and disappeared.
Sebastian sat alone once again on his throne, willing his anger into strength. He had made up his mind as soon as he had seen Cedric's success with Dragons that despite the boy's royal heritage, he would lead Sebastian's armies. Cedric wielded a vast amount of power with the beasts, and no matter Sebastian’s own personal vendetta, the boy would be an asset to his armies like no other. If Cedric’s sister proved to hold the same gifts as her brother, he would raise them to the top ranks with his generals. If neither was able to best the formidable force of four Poison-Quills, then they lacked the gifts he needed, and good riddance to them both.
* * *
“My lady.” Sebastian's deep voice caused Lianna to start violently.
They stood on the terrace outside the palace. Lianna leaned against the railing, gazing over the Tournament fields. As Sebastian startled her, she whirled, her hands up in a defensive posture, her breath quick and shallow.
“I did not mean to startle you, my lady.”
After a moment, she regained control of herself. She straightened and turned back to the railing, her hands now tightly gripping the white marble. She made no answer.
“Did you enjoy the morning competitions?” Sebastian asked as he moved close beside her, his back to the railing and the fields, his arms crossed as he watched her profile.
“As much as it is possible to enjoy them when one is a prisoner in the King's castle, Your Grace,” she said through tight lips.
Sebastian's throat issued a rusty chuckle. “Have you been to the dungeons, Lady Lianna?”
At the incremental shake of her head, he nodded. “Trust me when I say that you are no prisoner.”
Ice edged her gaze. “You clip a bird's wings, Your Grace, to keep it from the skies. It may not be surrounded by the bars of a cage, but it has lost its ability to fly.”
Sebastian inclined his head. “Aye, my lady, you speak the truth. But I do not clip your wings. I merely protect you from the fowler's snare.”
Kindle the Flame (Heart of a Dragon Book 1) Page 30
