Nash’s hands clench at his side. “No, how did our father die?”
“The Idols took issue with my command of the kingdom. Accidents occurred, too close to discount. So I murdered my brother Alexander on a cool autumn night. I had four sons, so there was no need for him to continue breathing.”
Theo sucks in a breath at the callous words spoken by their uncle. My sword vibrates in my hand, thirsty for the blood of the man who broke it apart with his greed for the crown. Nothing in this realm, no matter how shiny, could ever tempt me to kill Gwyneth. The bond between siblings is sacred. It subverts Idol demands and material wealth. What use is it if you are alone? I’drather be rich in love than gold. Love is priceless and timeless; riches are fickle and easily lost.
The king struts back and forth. “I might have been the runner-up, the consolation prize, but I was the one with the brains and skills to pull off such a strong deviation. Really, I proved myself the worthy knight through my clever actions.”
He pauses and flicks his gaze at Excalibur, still resting in my hands. “The one thing I needed was the sword. I was with Alexander when we called the Lady of the Lake. Sure enough, she came with grace and beauty, offering the blade to his pathetic ass. At the last moment, I snatched the hilt, but the damn thing resisted and snapped in my hands. But it was enough to power the narrative in the short term.”
“What were you going to do when one of us stepped up?” Malachi asks, coming to stand at my back. Nash does the same, while Hart and Theo flank the end of the table, blocking off Arthur’s escape routes.
“Retire and live out my remaining annuses in the arms of a different female every night. I have no interest in blocking your ascension. I only wished to avoid death by refusing to satisfy the Idols’ wicked appetite.”
Why would he die? Unless...
“You are...” Theo’s tortured voice trails off.
Arthur gives a curt nod. “That’s why I did what I did. I needed Hart to hate you, and vice versa. My brother had ample opportunity to kill me. He let his emotions rather than logic rule him, and the cost was his life.”
“I did not see that coming,” I mutter.
“He’s what?” Malachi snaps.
“The dragon of his generation,” I answer as my hand tightens around the lethal sword in my hands.
“No matter how hard I trained you, your father’s pathetic genes persisted. You are still a broken quad of idiots who valuefamily bonds over power.” His eyes flick over Hart in distaste before settling on Theo. “I forced you to burn your brother over and over, to create the ball of hate needed to overcome genetics. Yet, as you made him suffer, your bond grew stronger. You are all broken and useless. A joke. Even when the Idols drop everything you need into your laps, you still ignore it because of soft emotions.”
He means me. I am the one that dropped into their laps and became a vital part of their story, one which they are failing to grasp and deal with.
“If you won’t take the opportunity, then I will arrange a new plan of succession. I’ve trained my blood-born sons in secret, and they are enough to rival you.”
Those final, menacing words send a jolt through Theo, igniting a roar that shakes the very walls. The sound of tearing fabric rips through the air as I scramble to my feet, backpedaling in a frenzy. Strong arms clamp around my waist, yanking me against the cool stone of the wall. I instinctively raise my arm, shielding my eyes from the blinding burst of light that pierces the room, only to reveal the breathtaking sight of Theo’s golden scales glimmering against the stormy hue of Arthur, the blue dragon. They crouch, muscles coiling like springs, and circle in a dance of primal fury. On the far side, Nash and Hart press against the wall, fear etched on their faces, while Malachi looms protectively behind me.
“What do we do?” I gasp, caught in the crossfire of awe and dread. The two dragons mirror the extremes of nature—fire and ice, fury and fate. This realm cannot contain both of them.
“Stay the hell out of their way!” Malachi snaps, just as the ground trembles beneath us. I roll my eyes, though he can’t see the gesture. These knights may mistake my clumsiness for weakness, but I cling to enough instinct to survive this madness.
Arthur pivots, his spiked tail whipping like a sword through the air, wrapping around Theo’s tail in a vise-like grip. Theo’s roar erupts, a sonic blast that scorches the space around us, flames bursting forth and splattering crimson droplets that arc and shimmer like falling stars. My stomach drops, and I grip my sword, feeling it pulse with an energy of its own, eager to get involved.
With a fierce snap, Theo clamps down on Arthur’s snout, and I can almost see the jagged split in his scales, a grotesque reminder of their bond unraveling violently. As they unleash their fury, hesitation lingers, a flicker of familial ties holding them back. But this is a battle of survival, and my heart races as I witness their vicious dance.
Arthur backs toward us, flicking his lethal tail, a formidable weapon that threatens to unleash chaos. Malachi shoves me closer to the wall in a futile attempt to shield me from Arthur’s deadly swing, but a sense of dread electrifies the air. And then, with an unfathomable intentionality, Arthur corners me, eyes glinting with violent purpose, just as Theo locks onto my movements like a hawk honing in on its prey. I realize with a pang that he is ready to make a decision that no dragon should have to contemplate—destroying the father figure that betrayed him.
“No one should have to carry such a burden,” I murmur as Theo’s ferocious roar fills the room, sending Malachi to his knees, hands pressed tightly over his ears. I bolt forward, adrenaline surging through my veins. I’m willing to face the peril if I can release him from this torment. My eyes lock on Theo’s blazing orbs as I dash toward Arthur. He’s focused, but that also means he’s blind to his uncle’s threat.
With a terrifying lunge, Arthur snaps his jaws wide, aiming to end it all in one brutal bite. I duck, narrowly avoiding his strike, my sword raised high as I channel everything I am into thatmoment. With a wild swing, the blade cleaves through Arthur’s hard scales, the metal singing with ancient power as it slices effortlessly, igniting with an ethereal glow. As the legends of knights long gone seep into my being, a rush of knowledge floods my mind, memories not my own intertwining with my spirit. I gasp, a primal scream ripping from my throat as the warm blood spills down my arm—my skin painted with the weight of my actions.
“Daphne!” Nash calls, his voice echoing as if from across a vast chasm, each word booming against the chaos. “Let go! It’s done!” Let go? No! I refuse to abandon them. I can’t let anyone touch my knights. Not now, not ever. A strong hand grips my trembling wrist. “Come on, Calamity. You’ve slain the dragon. It’s time to rest.”
My shoulders slump, and my sight returns in time to see the sword sliding free of the dragon’s chest. “What have I done?” I whisper.
Nash appears in front of me, his hands cupping my face as he kisses my forehead. “You did what we could not.” His thumb swipes over my damp cheek. “Don’t cry, not over this scum.”
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth. “O-okay.” Murdering someone is tough on the soul, even if deep down, I know it was the right thing to do.
“I can’t believe she did it,” Malachi says. His voice is full of wonder. “But what does this mean? She just fulfilled the legend. She owns the sword and slayed the dragon.”
Oh, my Idols. No. I can’t rule myself, let alone a kingdom. All those eyes on my chaos wouldn’t be good. I had the distinct impression it enjoyed an audience.
