Burn (Dragon Souls)

by Fletcher, Penelope

  “Bastard he may be, but royal blood runs in his veins,” Shukri said.

  She huffed. There were Kings and Queens abound in this land. They could rustle up another and get lost. “Your point?”

  “He will bear the burden. He was born to.” He gave her a pointed look. “Just as you were born a Princess bound to become Queen, to mate the Dragon King. It is his destiny.”

  “No.” Her hand sliced the air sharply. “None of that. You won’t sit there and defend tearing a damaged child from his family to fulfil a ‘destiny’ you openly admit he wasn’t eligible to claim until you had no other choice.” Her hands balled into fists on her lap. “This civil war you worry over, I’m guessing a hard-nosed military man with some claim to the throne, no matter how tenuous, is driving it. Am I right?”

  “Battle Lord Zaki married Rykiel’s sister,” Murtada admitted. “He has no royal blood. Prince Ryuk is the only Noor left.”

  Marina didn’t care. “Battle Lord Zaki. And when he is told of the Grand Prince’s return he’s just going to step aside. Give my son a helping hand in asserting his rule?”

  The Eldermen looked uncomfortable.

  “You don’t look like fools,” she said stiffly, “but I’ve been wrong before.”

  Shukri stirred, contrite even as he argued his position. “You would deny him his birthright?”

  “I want him to have the best chance of a long, happy life. I won’t hand him over so you can throw him into a pit with a viper hoping he comes out unscathed.” She looked at Koen. “That is unacceptable.”

  His fleeting smile was replaced with feral cunning.

  “That is what your people do to you during this barbaric tournament. In the most literal sense.” Murtada gave her a knowing look. He along with the rest began to understand she tried to protect Boy from what she herself suffered. “We merely seek to restore what he’s owed.”

  “We should not even be discussing this,” Shukri raged, again on the offensive. “The Prince belongs with his people. We do not have to explain our motivations.”

  She ignored the antagonistic Eldermon, and focused on Murtada. He seemed willing to consider points of view beyond his own. “I’ve chosen to enter Aver of my own free will. You’re not giving Boy a choice. He wants to stay with me.” If he’d wanted to go with these men Boy would have made his will known when she’d asked.

  “Ryuk is of royal blood,” Shukri said. “There is no choice.”

  Murtada nodded slowly in agreement to these words. “For one such as he there is only destiny.”

  Marina pushed back. “Return in a decade when he’s an adult. I vow he will be prepared to take the responsibility of leadership.”

  “By then it will be too late,” Shukri said. “Our people will be under the rule of a tyrant.”

  “Eight years then,” Marina grated, grimacing at their expressions of refusal.

  It upset her she’d been reduced to bargaining for years as if Boy were nothing more than chattel. This was very kind of treatment she fought to free him and others like him from.

  It rankled she’d been cornered this way, but these people weren’t letting this go, and she could see the Dragon Lords were becoming anxious and confused at Koen’s resistance.

  “He’ll be eighteen. Then if he wants to go and challenge Battle Lord Zaki he can. Until then my answer is no.”

  “It is not up to you,” Shukri spat.

  “I’m his mother.” Fear her legal maternity wouldn’t be enough to keep him safe tore through her. “I understand the concept of adoption is a foreign one to this world, but I grew up in a place where it means the making of life altering decisions for a minor, like, oh, I don’t know, going to war with a bloodthirsty tyrant, happens here.” She tapped her chest. “He’s too young to fully understand the dangers. He isn’t trained to oppose a battle-hardened warrior. You would be leading him and any who followed to slaughter. We will have no part of it.” She knew in her heart though they were estranged, Mikhail and those sworn to him would fight with her. Maybe even House Ryu would stand. “You won’t take him as long as there is breath left in my body.”

  “You care for him? For a Barren One?” Shukri sneered at the derogatory name.

  “I love him. He is my son.” She met their cynical gazes. Her own became demanding. “Why refuse to acknowledge it?”

  Holding out a hand to halt Shukri’s next remark, Murtada clucked, thoughtful. “Son you call him. You know him so well?” His bushy eyebrow rose. “If you truly knew what he was capable of, the destruction hidden within in his blood, I believe you would hand him over freely.”

  In a flash she recalled the oppressive darkness that followed Boy around in a suffocating cloud. His aura was a dark one, but it wasn’t malevolent, or to be feared as Murtada insinuated.

  Scoffing derisively, Marina returned her attention to Koen.

  His brow furrowed deeply as Daniil whispered frantically into his ear.

  When his gaze clashed with hers it was conflicted. “Treasure–”

  The hairs on her arms lifted at the regret underlying the endearment. “He’s ours Koen. Ours.”

  Without expression, Koen Raad looked at the Regent.

  Myron shook his head, sadly.

  Mikhail merely watched, as he had the whole time, but his expression left her in no doubt they’d suffer the fight of their lives for his grandchild.

  Marina wondered just how ugly this would get.

  “We must discuss this,” Koen said. “A decision such as this, one that affects my lands, my family and me personally, is one I must think on.” He stood and strode towards Marina. “Eldermen, I ask you to remain within the Citadel. Apartments have been made ready.”

  “Halt.” Shukri rose to complain at his back. “There is nothing to discuss.” Slashes of colour highlighted the hollows of his cheeks as his anger heightened. “You will return our Prince or there will be consequences.”

  Koen went hunter-quiet, predator-still. His aura blackened, and his eyes flashed with a muted glow.

  He slowly turned and stabbed the man with a look that could wither the strongest of warriors. “Do you mean to give me orders and to threaten me?” His voice escaped as a profound rumble echoing a growl from his Dragon. “In my own territory?”

  Paling, Murtada groped blindly for his fellow Elder’s tunic. Clasping a hold he yanked Shukri back into his seat.

  “I am merely being practical.” Tugging free of Murtada, the Eldermon refused to recant. “You insult us by saying we abuse children, and refuse to return to our rightful heir. You have broken the treaty and incite war.”

  Koen managed to loom over the assembly from where he stood. “It was not us who sent a youngling to assassinate a returned Princess of Tzion.”

  Gasps of outrage ripped through the gathering.

  At this coldly announced fact, Daniil inhaled sharply, his expression wrathful.

  Myron released a blustery sigh.

  Not shocked his Lady adopted her assassin, Jakob quirked a brow. He accepted it as part of what made her special, and inched closer to her chair to offer more protection.

  Eldermon Shukri turned red.

  Flustered, he turned in his seat to look desperately at the regiment of Battle Mages who eyed the Dragon King warily, but made no move to defend the honour of their people.

  “How dare you,” Murtada stuttered. “We come here to reclaim what you took. You accuse us of sending him here? To murder.”

  “Boy was found by Marina in her chamber,” Koen said. “He was sent to kill her. He confessed all to me. You now tell us that the boy is not a nameless slave, but a royal.” His voice was ruthless, cutting. “No, you tell me he is the heir of a man we fought with bitterly for decades. Tell me, Eldermon, what conclusion should I draw?”

  It was difficult to keep her face composed. Marina knew Koen understood it was Katya Ja who’d ordered Boy to kill her, not the Mages, so what was he doing?

  “Ryuk was missing for over eight years. It wa
s not us.” Murtada stated this firmly, meeting everyone’s gaze.

  He realised they were now on the defensive.

  The Dragon King was far more cunning than he appeared.

  Behind the curtain the Eldernmoot considered the male a brutish creature ruled by instinct. The original peace treaty had been agreed without much open inference on his part.

  Murtada now wondered if the Mages perception of the beast male was true. The King’s advisor, Lord Kol, was well known to them and considered skilful in arbitration. Such a male would not display unfailing respect for his liege if he were devoid of political guile.

  This encounter proved Koen Raad was not only a warlord. He was a shrewd adversary well versed in oblique negotiation.

  “It was not us,” he repeated. “I think you know this. We would never send one with royal blood. Bastard or not.”

  Sniffing, Koen retook his seat, mightily displeased to do so.

  The move to end the meeting had not taken.

  He propped an elbow on the armrest and waved his hand, dismissing the rationalization as weak. “You said yourself the Wastelands are at the brink of civil war. How do I know your Battle Lord did not organize this attack upon my Treasure? Perhaps he sought to solve two problems. Had Boy succeeded in his mission he would be dead either by my hand or yours when I demanded it in vengeance.”

  The Eldermen shared a look of dismay.

  This was not what they expected, and the unexpected was not welcome to these erudite men.

  “More discussion is needed,” Shukri said grudgingly. Frustration was the predominant emotion in his throaty voice. “We shall reconvene–”

  “Next week this same day.” Koen motioned for Daniil to note it on the political stones. He was not about to be ordered about in his own throne room. “Until then you will enjoy the diversions between the quests of Aver.”

  The Eldermen railed against that proclamation.

  “Too long,” Shukri said. “What possibly do you have to discuss?” He went rigid, the bones in his dreadlocks knocking together. “Unless you mean to waylay us and secret Ryuk away.”

  “The child should be held under supervision of both delegations,” Murtada said quickly when the Dragon Lords growled in offence. “It is impartial and ensures both sides remain sincere.”

  “You dishonour us by inferring we should do such a thing,” the Regent said harshly.

  “We will not underestimate the declarations heard here today.” As he spoke, Shukri slid a suspicious look at Marina.

  Slighted on her behalf, Koen snarled.

  “It’s okay,” Marina soothed, fully aware getting a hold of her son was akin to finding a rainbow and holding smoke. “If it helps them trust us let them anoint him with an honour guard. Dragon Lords eager to do our bidding surround them, after all. Such assurances tend to lessen needless fears.”

  “We are not afraid,” Shukri protested.

  Marina’s lips curved. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Never said you were.”

  The smell of baked bread and grilled fish filled the midday air.

  Stomach’s rumbling, perturbed by the morning’s work, the wearied Dragon Lords traipsed towards the winding passage leading to the lower Citadel levels.

  Grabbing Marina’s wrist, Koen gave a sharp command.

  They sighed. Turned and followed as the Dragon King shifted to scale the outside of the Citadel, a ranting Princess held tightly in his claws.

  Entering his chamber, Koen dropped Marina onto the rumpled covers of his bed then reclined regally. His serpentine neck drew back and his snout lowered.

  Intrigued by the room she’d never seen, Marina craned her neck.

  The room was opulently furnished, the wood heavy and dark, the fabrics in shades of black and green. Odd items scattered amongst the furnishings stood out against the opulence.

  A boulder eroded and covered with claw marks sat by the shoulder-high fireplace. Was it a scratching post? A chunk of driftwood barred the decorated entrance screen. That was less confusing. Koen liked privacy.

  Marina blinked and her lips trembled with a smile.

  In the centre of the room mounted on a stone pillar was the fulgurite she’d unearthed from the black sands.

  It touched her he thought so much of the gift.

  Remembering she was angry, she sat. “Why haven’t you sent them away? Why are you pretending anything they say will make us give Boy up?”

  Silent, Koen regarded her, unblinking.

  ‘Assassin?’ Daniil boomed as he followed them into the room. In dragonskin, his voice lost none of its haughtiness. “You adopted your assassin? Are you mad?”

  Annoyed at the interruption, Marina threw him a disgruntled look. “This is why I didn’t tell you.”

  Tossing his head, Daniil glared at his King. ‘And you let her do this thing?’

  Koen closed his eyes and snorted.

  Jakob and Mikhail followed them into the room.

  After checking she was okay, Jakob proclaimed the assembly a failure. Mikhail launched into a growling sermon applauding Koen’s stalling tactic then damned his hesitation in refusing their irrational demands. This Daniil took great insult to, revealing he counselled the King not to turn them down outright, as they could not afford a war campaign during Aver. Marina marched to stand in the middle of them all and yell at anyone who came close to suggesting Boy be handed over, which meant she spent most of her time shouting nose to snout with Daniil. Jakob once again mentioned the talks were doomed to failure, and the argument began all over again. The three Dragons and the livid female between them argued until the walls shook with the power of their voices. The heavy stomps of their claws and the occasional shrill screech from Marina as she futility kicked a thick sapphire hide was maddening.

  ‘Enough.’ Head aching, Koen joined the argument. ‘If our people saw four of their most powerful leaders at this moment they would despair.’ Luminous green eyes cracked open, truly exasperated. ‘We have time to think on what has been said here today and come to an agreement with the Eldernmoot. We must.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Mikhail rumbled loftily.

  His tone and manner was smug, as if he hadn’t been reduced to yelling empty threats at his obstinate offspring, and had argued the power of debate over violence from the start.

  Daniil gnashed his fangs. ‘They have come for one reason and one reason alone – to reclaim their lost Prince. Exactly what is there to think about? Give them what is rightfully theirs.’

  Marina nearly bit her tongue in half repressing a string of profanities.

  Koen watched his Treasure slowly exhale. Her beautiful eyes reflected the fires of her conviction.

  Daniil, he thought, is a fool.

  “I can see why you’d think that was the answer.” Marina held up a beseeching palm that closed into a fist. It thumped her breast, an aggressive demand for appeasement that ended in defiance. “Under no circumstances will I willingly give up my son. I will fight anyone who tries to take him from me.” She speared Daniil with a look Koen never expected to see her direct at his Second. “Are you hearing me?”

  ‘You are not Queen yet,’ Daniil snarled.

  “What exactly are you saying?” She rounded on him fully and threw up a hand to halt Jakob’s protective advance. “Watch my back. I don’t need coddling.”

  Lowering his snout, eyes cool and distant, her Second moved aside. His tail thrashed. It was the sole indicator of his displeasure.

  Koen Raad wasn’t sure if he was jealous or impressed how swiftly their relationship grew in strength.

  Jakob intuitively understood Marina’s unconventional style of dealing with subordinates. She treated all as equals until the moment came when she demanded obedience.

  Koen doubted she knew there were times refuting her was impossible. Because of her lack of arrogance, following her became a matter of great pride.

  She would make a magnificent Queen.

  Marina studied Daniil as if she’d never seen him before.
Her expression clouded. “I want this cleared between us. Right now. The vibe I’m getting from you disturbs me.”

  ‘You alone cannot fight this,’ Daniil said, not unkindly. ‘The Dragon Council will vote in favour of peace.’

  Jakob nudged her with his snout. ‘He is right. As Queen you would have the authority to oppose the Dragon Council. As Queen, only if the King sided with them could Boy legally be taken from you.’

  ‘But she is not Queen,’ Daniil pointed out. ‘And will not be for a fortnight at least. Koen Raad alone cannot oppose the Council in this. He needs another monarch to support his case.’

  Marina gritted her teeth.

  She knew Daniil fought for all the right reasons, but his determination to do the right thing had him disregarding the mitigating circumstances that made the suggestion of handing a child over to negligent guardians unthinkably cruel.

  “I’m weeks away from becoming Queen. Until then the Regent–”

  ‘Myron cannot stand for you,’ Daniil interrupted. ‘He is the Regent of the Fire Kingdom.’

  “So?”

  ‘You have declared yourself for the Wreath.’

  ‘You need Gavriil,’ Jakob said giving her the answer she sought. ‘He administers the Ice Realm.’

  ‘He cannot leave the land under his stewardship to pander to the whims of a woman who may not even be Queen.’

  Tensing, Jakob rumbled uneasily.

  Eyes narrowing, Mikhail stared with biting contempt.

  Lifting his snout, Koen bared his teeth. Smoke poured from his throat and flames of anger slicked across his tongue.

  For his Second to speak so callously of her failing was inexcusable.

  ‘Leave this room,’ he commanded.

  Daniil snapped his jaws and spun. His tail lashed the wall as he climbed out the window and took to the sky. He climbed in altitude until he was lost to sight in the low clouds.