Many familiar faces appeared absent from the bowl. Had Urien killed them all or had they refused to acknowledge him as king and been banished?
No, Urien wouldn’t banish them—he’d make a bloody example.
Elouan’s jailers reached the bottom of the bowl, pressing hard on Elouan’s shoulders, forcing him to kneel. He could fight, even in chains, and win, leaving them humiliated. He dared not give Urien any excuse to punish him further through his brothers.
If they still lived.
Clanking chains pronounced Elouan's downfall. Bound on his knees, barely able to look into the face of his tormentor. Drum beats added to thedoom, doom, doom.
"Elouan Thorne," came a thunderous, all-too-familiar voice that raised Elouan’s hackles. "I sentence you to death for the crime of treason." Even without a visual, the gloating satisfaction in Uncle Urien's voice came through clearly. Uncle Urien. King killer, who'd offered a hug, only to deliver a betrayal.
Elouan's heart hammered, breaths coming in panicked gasps.No!With him put to death, who'd protect his brothers, his court?
His father's memory.
Once more rage poured down on him. Elouan shrieked, “I’ll rip you to pieces, you spawn of a sewer rat!”
The crowd jeered in the darkness, out of Elouan’s ever-narrowing field of vision. Chants of “Kill him! Kill him!” went up, likely led by Urien’s followers. The court loved Father, and Elouan worked hard to maintain its love. Last week, he’d been their beloved prince. Now, scheming mothers would turn their ambitions to Elouan’s cousins.
The shuffle-click of Sakaris's familiar gait tracked across the bowl-shaped chamber, the tap of the senior mage's cane echoing off the walls. Sakaris, the cloaked figure who’d come to Elouan’s cell. Why hadn't he revealed himself? Guilt? He’d worn the unaccustomed purple himself tonight, and threw back the hood of his cloak dramatically, a pretentious gesture worthy of Uncle Urien. He’d wasted no time in switching sides, or had he backed Urien all along, only pretending to be loyal to Father?
Elouan’s anger burned. He dug his nails into his palms.
Here or there, he caught whispers, though none loud enough to decipher, even with his dragon’s acute hearing. No one cried out in protest. No one defended him. He was alone. Would die alone. His dragon raged, demanding to be let out. Somehow, the enchantments of the bowl allowed a knife to pass the wards. Had the prohibition against shifting also been nullified?
No. He couldn’t be that lucky. Once more he tried to summon the beast within. Once more, nothing happened. Not a single scale or talon.
With none of the rightful king's three sons mated, they couldn't assume their lawful places in the hierarchy. Urien must act quickly, not give Elouan a chance to rectify matters. Father had suggested some perfectly acceptable mates. Why hadn't Elouan accepted any?
Now, Father lay dead.
Elouan would soon join him in death. "What of my brothers?" he dared ask, glancing into the face of his father's old ally. Sakaris. The traitor.
Sakaris leaned down, murmuring into Elouan's ear, "Hush. You didn't think I'd abandon you, did you?" The old mage winked before schooling his craggy features into a severe scowl. Louder, Sakaris called out, "Lord Urien. This man is your kin. Spilling his blood on your crowning day is a bad omen."
Lord.NotKing.
Murmurs grew from the crowd.
"What do you suggest?" Urien didn't hide the irritation in his voice.
Crowning day required a crown. If the Goddess hadn’t given the gift yet, she likely wouldn't.
Sakaris attempted all the bow his aging body permitted. "Allow me to take this burden upon myself, Your Highness." Interesting how Sakaris didn’t acknowledge Urien as king by saying “majesty.”
But Sakaris would put Elouan to death? Oh, for Elouan's hands to be free to swing a sword.
“Let me do the honors,” Gwythyr demanded.
Sakaris tightened his hand—clawlike even in human form—on Elouan's shoulder.
“Silence, mage! Let my brother's traitor do the honors. I need you to attend me.” Urien stood. “Let the people know that my brother’s end came because he denied the natural order. I was my parents' first alpha, and should’ve been named king as is my right.”
“Yeah!” called some in the crowd.
Their validation added fuel to Urien’s fire. “Now that you have your rightful king, together we will conquer our enemies. Other courts are decimated, or nearing collapse. They’ll be easily brought to heel by our superior fighters.”
“Yeah!” some shouted. Urien seemed to be whipping them into a frenzy.
