“I am Xendus.” The large shifter gruffly nods toward Treacher.
“And I am Surath.” She smiles wryly, clearly enjoying Treacher’s confusion, as he tries to process the new information.
Shaking his head, Treacher turns back to me. “Why are these people using dragon names?” He blinks a few times. “And how did your dragon disappear?”
“They’re dragon shifters,” I tell Treacher.
“These are our true forms,” Zogar says. “We were trapped as dragons for over four hundred years.” His eyes narrow. “We were trapped in that canyonprison—” Rage is building in my husband, so I take his hand and rub his thumb pad, hoping to calm him until his rage is beneficial. We need to give Treacher time to absorb this information.
“No.” Treacher looks between the three shifters and me, as if trying to solve a puzzle. “Ersot?” He turns back toward his dragon, and she sends a long stream of fire skyward.
“Ersot!” Treacher staggers back. “Can hehearme?”
“Of courseshecan,” Surath says sharply.
“She?” Treacher shakes his head. “Ersot is male.”
“Believe me,” Surath snarls. “Ersot is very much awoman.”
Treacher’s eyes are now impossibly wide, and he continues to shake his head. “Can Ersot—? Is he—is she…” He sighs in exasperation.
“Yes,” I respond to his incomplete question. “Every dragon held in the Light is a shifter. They’re mages able to assume dragon form.”
“I don’t understand.” He looks into my eyes, as if I’m the only one he trusts to give answers.
I offer him a soft smile. “If we help you understand, will you help us free Saxon?”
Treacher rakes back his hair. “Sure. Yes. Of course. I’ll help you free Saxon regardless, but as for believing that these people aredragons… that’s something I’ll have to see to believe.”
“Then, you must cross the veil,” Zogar says boldly. “Once Ersot is free, we will free Saxon, and then free all of our people.”
CHAPTER 40
Tynan
Istride down the corridor toward my father’s audience room. After being stuck here for more than five moon cycles, I’ve grown used to having a group of knyghts accompany me everywhere in this castle. Since the day I was named heir, I haven’t had a moment without armed guards, even though it’s my own home. I still can’t believe that I’m heir to the throne not only of Khotor, but the entire Kingdom of Light.
I am Crown Prince of the Light, and the title fills me with more pride than I care to admit—especially since I’ve not yet confirmed what happened to all my brothers who stood before me in line. But the honor and the trappings that came with my new title aren’t why I’ve stayed here so long. At least not the only reason.
It’s hard to deny that my life here has become pleasant. I now enjoy finer clothes, far better food, much more respect, and no one has questioned why I request the same Wife of Othrix each night.
Glorya and I sometimes converse, but she enjoys the time to herself, and I bring books from the library for her to read during the time that everyone else assumes I’m drilling her.
With every week that’s passed, with every meeting with my father, I’ve earned more of his trust, and by cooperating and agreeing with everything he says, I’ve learned a great deal about the klericy’s growing influence, and how the Kingdom of Light is now governed.
When I become king—I’d like to discuss that with Rosomon—my first act will be to curb the klericy’s influence. When I am king, I won’t follow every edict of the Prime Klerick, like my father does.
Father oft defers even to our Head Klerick, but I’ve at least managed to convince Father that he and I should meet, on occasion, without that old klerick lurking.
My continued presence at court has not only prolonged Saxon’s life, but also the lives of Rosomon’s father and brothers. Every time the Head Klerick suggests to Father that Saxon should be brought to Catha to face his tribunal, or that the former Achotian King should either bend the knee or face execution, I find arguments for Father to wait, and twist the conversation so that the King realizes he wants to assert control rather than bending to the will of the klericy.
I miss Rosomon, deeply. And I keep my ears open for any news that she may have returned from the Darkness, but so far, I’ve heard nothing. I miss riding dragons. I miss camp. I even miss Saxon, but I’m proud that my sacrifice has saved his life.
After a short wait at the door, I’m granted entrance to the audience room. Father is on his throne today, as he was the firstday I met with him, rather than the soft chairs by the fire where we most often meet.
The expression on his face puzzles me. He’s smug. Something has changed. I’ll need to stay on my toes.
“Prince Tynan,” Father says in a tone that tells me to bow deeply toward him with formal deference. “It has come to Our attention that you have sent for the same Wife of Othrix each night that We’ve granted you that privilege.”
