Before I could protest, both of them retreated, Syris throwing me a concerned look over her shoulder. I gave her a half smile, crouching down to stroke one of the hatchlings’ scales, which were already beginning to molt.
It only took me a few moments alone, however, to realize that I’d feel like a coward hiding at the hatchery. I didn’t care what Alaryk wanted. I needed to hear whatever he said for myself.
Luckily the hatchlings were quick eaters, having gobbled up their first of many meals of the day in a flash, and I corralled them back through the small door at the end of the courtyard, which led directly into their nesting room. Kyr was the last to obey, but I pressed my hand underneath his jaw, giving him a gentle scratch.
“I’ll be right back,” I whispered, like he could understand me.
Once I was certain the doors were secure, I didn’t bother heading through the hatchery to reach the front entrance, merely climbed up the stone half wall of the courtyard, dropping down on the other side. The road that met the soles of my boots would take me all the way to the landing field.
I didn’t see a single person as I wound down through Grymia. Only when I was beginning to descend the hill that led to the field did I see the large crowd, like every Karag was in attendance, having left their duties and posts for the morning.
And even from a distance, I could see Alaryk, standing before a line of his chosen riders, and Myzalla, his wing commander.
He was already speaking by the time I arrived, with my heart lodged in my throat. Immediately, even across the crowd, I felt his gaze find me, his eyes narrowing, but his words never faltered.
“Ryak is being held and watched by chosen guards, and I will decide on his sentencing after I consult with Elysom’s council and the otherKaraths,” he was saying. It sparked a ripple of protest from the crowd, which Alaryk quickly silenced. “When I’m done speaking, I’ll open this forum up to comments, but until then, I don’t want to hearanyone. Understood?”
I saw the familiar figures of Tarkosh and Syris, Moak and Ulin close by, their arms crossed over their broad chests. Syris’s eyes widened when she saw me, and Tarkosh shook her head when I silently slipped beside them.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Tarkosh hissed.
“Nevin is,” I said, my eyes finding him with the rest of the acolytes, though I could see the tension lining his shoulders, his expression cold and impassive. But I didn’t see Brune.
Tarkosh’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t see the point in sending me awaynow.
“This is a delicate matter,” Alaryk continued, his voice carrying, strong and unwavering. “The Heartstone Accords that our nation made with the Dakkari were set in place to encourage peaceful andmutuallybeneficial relations with each other.”
I heard the scoffs, the shared expressions, the shaking of heads throughout the crowd. I only felt the pit in my belly grow, the dread tripling. I could feel Syris glance over at me, but I kept my gaze pinned on Alaryk.
“It’s no secret that the Dakkari possess a fully maturethalaratree. And that it will take years for new trees to grow from the seeds we planted here in the Arsadia onlybecauseof the Accords. But they will grow nonetheless,” Alaryk said. “We are honor-bound to see the Accords through, though we will consult with Elysom, the different territories,andDakkar on the appropriate sentencing for Ryak.”
My brow furrowed. So different than what he’d told me last night.
“Are you asking me to forgive my son’s murderer for…politics?” came a familiar voice. Saran stepped forward, her voice nothing more than a spat. A rumbling went through the crowd.
Alaryk’s jaw clenched as he regarded her. “Not forgive, no. That is your choice. I am asking for time, Saran. This is an unprecedented situation. I will not act rashly, despite what I personally believe should happen.”
“You promised me justice last night,” came her hiss. “So give it to me,Karath. Blood for blood—that is the way. The only way. I want himdead. Just like my son is.”
Movement in the sky made the crowd raise their heads. A dark shadow momentarily blotted out the sun, wings flared wide. A flash of red scales.Samryn.
Had he felt Alaryk’s call through their bond?
Alaryk said, “I can’t give you that right now. For reasons I just explained, Saran.”
“You would rather bow to Elysom, toSarroth, than to your own people,” Saran spat. “Oh, but of course, it’s because you’re a Hartan. A serpent who slithered out of the mountains, who promises one thing and does another.”
I wasn’t the only one who gasped. The earth trembled when Samryn landed on the field behind Alaryk, his riders slowly backing away, and I was awestruck and terrified by the image they both made. One of Samryn looming behind his chosen rider, red eyes glowing. His movements were jerky and quick ashe prowled closer to the crowd, belying his own anger, but Alaryk never flinched from Saran’s words.
“You’re grieving,” Alaryk said, “and soIwill forgive that intended insult because you are not of your right mind. But remember, Saran, any insult directed at me is an insult felt by my bonded Elthika. And he will be much less forgiving if it happens again.”
As if to drive home the point made by his rider, I watched Samryn’s jaw widen, and a mighty roar, ear-splitting, shook the earth, making Saran stumble backward with a cry of alarm. The entire crowd backstepped, some falling over one another. Even though we were in the rear of the crowd, we still had to stumble away as the wave of people rippled.
In the aftermath, it was so quiet that I could hear the way Samryn’s talons latched into the earth. I watched as Alaryk stepped forward, reaching down to help Saran to her feet. I saw her step back, her head bowed, her face paler than it had been before. She was shaking.
My mouth was bone dry as I looked from Samryn to Alaryk. As if Samryn had decided his horde needed to beremindedof who Alaryk was…he’d showed them all.
“Now…would anyone like to speak to give their opinion on the matter?” Alaryk asked, raising his voice so that it rippled through the shocked crowd.
