It’s about time you acknowledged who’s in charge,she says, but I catch a hint of lightness in her tone.
“I think we should land,” I tell her. “That is, if you agree.” I smile at our almost banter.
If we land, those men will incarcerate you. They mean you grave harm.
I draw a deep breath, touched that she cares. “Nevertheless, we must land,” I tell her. “If we flee, you and Xendus won’t be able to free the rest of the dragons. I must face this tribunal.”
I’ll be charged with blasphemy. Without a miracle, this tribunal will lead to my execution, but even if I’m forced to face the Prime Klerick or Othrix himself, it can’t be any worse than facing Surath’s anger.
She laughs.
It’s the first time I’ve truly felt her laughing, and I smile. Surath understands my dark humor, and that small bond between us lifts my spirits, even in these dire circumstances.
Saxon, you have ridden my pommel for five and twenty years. Even though you hid your magic, I know you well, and I admire your bravery and recognize your sacrifice at this moment.
It’s the first time she’s called me anything but ‘human’ or ‘mortal’, and my gratitude swells as she and Xendus circle the field, descending toward it.
CHAPTER 4
Tynan
Surath and Saxon land midway between the dragon enclaves and camp, but Xendus continues to circle.
After telling me we were returning to the Light, my dragon shared little with me as we flew—and sharednothingafter I expressed my displeasure that we didn’t follow Zogar and Rosomon.
It’s true that I may have expressed that displeasure with a few too many curse words—not to mention some empty threats—but Xendus didn’t need to punish me with silence. He even prevented me from communicating with Saxon while we flew.
Guards rush to surround Master Saxon. They shackle his wrists and ankles, and then drag him toward Roule and Treacher, standing with the camp’s Head Klerick and a few minor klericks I’ve not seen before.
Xendus lands and I try to dismount, but he holds me with his knot.
You cannot help him right now, Xendus says.Surath fears you’ll make matters worse.
I frown. I can talk my way out of anything, but to be honest, I’m not sure how to defend Saxon right now. Saxon has magic. Magic he kept a secret. It’s the most serious crime against Othrix. I’m no religious scholar and have no idea how to argue against those klericks.
Saxon’s shackles are excessively large and heavy, and the chain between his legs is far too short. As the guards drag him toward the dragon masters and klericks, I cringe as the proud, strong man is forced to rapidly shuffle, often stumbling as they drag him.
I’m still able to benefit from Xendus’s vision. Kaelus, the Head Klerick, is wearing a tunic that bears the crest of Khotor—my kingdom. So are the other klericks.
I can’t make sense of that, but the unmistakeable crest is affixed to all of the tunics and uniforms, just above the emblem of Othrix. I spot the same crest on Roule and Treacher too.
Was Khotor elevated amongst the Seven Kingdoms, while we were gone? How longwerewe gone? I try to remember the calculations Zogar told us, but even if I could do that math, I’m not positive how much time passed in Lymbo. We spent so much time fucking that my concept of time was blurred by pleasure.
Xendus releases me, and I quickly dismount, using the rope-free method Rosomon taught us. On the ground, I stride toward the others. Surath and Xendus remain nearby, pretending to be helpless, even though I know they could take flight if they chose to. They could also shift into their human forms, but doing so would not help their own cause—never mind Saxon’s.
Seeing all the Khotori crests, confusing emotions swarm my mind and chest—pride for my kingdom and my family, alongside shame for whatever my grandfather must have done to achieve this.
But Saxon’s capture is my highest priority. I can only hope that I now have more power. I am a Khotori Prince.
“What’s going on?” I step up beside Saxon. “Why is Dragon Master Saxon in shackles?”
“Your Highness.” Kaelus bows toward me, and then each of the others follows suit. Even Treacher bows, although annoyance is plastered all over his scarred face.
I struggle to hide my pride. The only thing that matters is that I might be able to use this unexpected development to help Saxon.
“Welcome back, Your Highness,” Kaelus says. “The entire Kingdom of Light rejoices at your safe return.”
My chest swells, but I can’t be distracted by flattery. I assume my grandfather now has some sway over the klericks, but it’s none of my doing, nothing to take pride in. These men are only showing respect, because I’m related to an old man I hate.
