He couldn’t speak such thoughts aloud. They would burn him for it too.
The chamber door banged open. A guard hurried in, bowing low. “A rider came with a message from the Navyrian fleet – Admiral Dray, my Lords and Ladies. Urgent.”
Not Sebastian. Don’t be Sebastian.
“Speak it, then,” Tobias ordered. His voice was iron, but his hand curled to a fist beneath the table.
The guard swallowed. “The Seventh Sail intercepted a vessel on the western coast flying no banner. Black-sailed. Draken made.”
Merrick lurched to his feet. Evelyn hissed a curse.
“Admiral Dray’s report states it was a scout-class vessel,” the guard said. “Single-mast, shallow draft – the kind used to map landing sites.”
Tobias’s hand moved to his sword hilt. Pure instinct.
“They destroyed the ship. The Drakens fought bravely. Down to the last man. But they took him alive,” the guard finished.
“Send a message back immediately,” Simone demanded. “Tell the admiral to bring the scout here for interrogation. There can be no delay.”
“My lady, they are already en route. The rider believes they will be here before the midday sun.”
Simone nodded at him and he bowed low, exiting swiftly.
The chamber erupted.
“Drakens,” Evelyn spat, rising half out of her chair. “On our shores.”
“They dare,” Merrick snarled, pounding a fist against the oak. “This is provocation.”
“Provocation?” Simone’s eyes flashed. “Merrick, you heard the prophecy as well as I. This is war.”
At the far end of the table, Galen unrolled another map with a heavy hand. “If their scouts are here, their fleet is likely not far behind. We haven’t seen Draken ships in our waters for over three hundred years. In light of what Fatàn told us... I do not believe this is merely exploration.”
“We must question him,” Elias insisted. “Find out the truth, how long we have.”
I will get to the truth. And then I will get my son.
“Let’s see how brave this Draken is with a blade at his throat,” Tobias growled.
The rider, it turned out, had been correct in his estimations. The midday sun was high in the sky when the Draken scout was dragged into the chamber by two guards. The scout’s eyes burned with black fire that flickered eerily in their depths. His dark robe had fallen open in the struggle, revealing deathly pale skin crawling with jagged, angry dark veins across his chest and arms.
He looked barely human.
Even shackled in irons at the ankles and wrists, he fought them at each step, but the Navyrians had taken precautions. Tobias saw silk nightshade wraps underneath the chains, draining his strength. The man’s efforts were futile.
The guards shoved him upright before them at the Council table, forcing him still with ease. Tobias rose, drew his dagger, and crossed the floor. He caught the Draken’s chin in his hand and pressed cold steel against his throat.
“Tell me,” he growled, his magic shimmering, “has your fleet sailed? How soon will they land?”
The Draken barked a laugh. “Your crimson fire dies with you, Vallennan. Your blades, your walls, your precious magic... it means nothing to us.”
Tobias pushed the blade harder into the man’s neck. “Tell me, or I’ll kill you where you stand.”
The Draken’s dark eyes glinted at the threat. “Prince Silas will destroy you all.”
“This is pointless, Tobias,” Evelyn snapped. “He will not give it freely.”
“Then we rip it from him,” Galen said, his normal bluster replaced by ice.
