“I know, Your Majesty. I’ll dispatch someone to find him.” Sakaris rose, bowed, turned on his heel, and shuffled up the steps from the bowl. And shuffled. And shuffled. He might get to where he was going by midnight.
Some claimed Sakaris might live forever, while others suggested Father should assign an apprentice to prevent the ancient dragon from taking valuable knowledge with him when he passed on. If he passed on. He’d already outlived at least three apprentices. One to run errands like this might help too.
Would that Father could live and continue his reign for so long. Elouan would gladly go his whole life without the heaviness of a crown upon his head, and even worse, everyone’s conflicting expectations. Only the thought of letting a vain peacock of a dragon like Urien assume control made him rethink his priorities. He could never subject the court to his uncle’s thirst for power.
Another glance around showed still no Urien. If Uncle Urien refused to fulfill his role….
Elouan rose to perform his uncle’s part. “High Reaches Court.” His voice echoed against the bowl’s walls. “We have gatheredtogether this night to celebrate King Locryn Thorne’s fiftieth anniversary as your king.”
Shouts and clapping thundered from the crowd.
“Instead of having you all swear fealty to him again, as is tradition, he has planned this feast to share with you, for he feels this honor isn’t only his, but yours. We have enjoyed fifty summers of peace under his reign.” If Uncle Urien had his way, he’d drag them all into the unrest devastating many other dragon courts. Sakaris said Urien’s greed and incompetence were the reasons the Goddess blessed Elouan’s grandparents with a second alpha son, whom she later made king.
Uncle Urien would’ve brought them to ruin.
Elouan took his seat, and servers descended the bowl’s steps, some laden with dishes and cups, some with trays of the wonderful food he’d scented earlier, and still others with flagons. The enticing aroma of roast venison permeated the air. More servers mounted the dais and served Elouan’s family. Good food and rich wine flowed freely.
The first course was venison seared to perfection over open fires, served with roasted potatoes covered with herbs, though most dragons left the potatoes alone in favor of the venison. Elouan retrieved a crusty roll and set about slathering the inside with butter.
Oh, how he appreciated the omegas who raised cows and chickens outside the city, where the poor creatures wouldn’t be on constant alert for predators. Omegas were skilled at projectingI’m not a threatto lesser creatures. Thus, butter on the table.
A string quartet serenaded the diners during the meal. Elouan had always been partial to the violin, though he possessed no skill with the instrument. He might as well have worn his talons instead of fingers whenever he tried. Still, he could enjoy the talents of others.
Anrai received all the musical gifts in the family.
Elouan had just finished eating when a smiling servant retrieved his plate, setting another before him. Apple pastries. His favorite. He took his time with his dessert, catching snippets of conversation from those closest to him. The volume seemed muted somehow.
He turned to survey his surroundings. Some families continued to lounge while others made their way out of the bowl. Strange. Since when did anyone turn down more food and wine or a chance to mingle with the royal family?
Even some who’d sought Father’s favor bustled out of the space, some nearly running. His hackles rose. What was going on?
The slumbering dragon within him took notice.
A rustling sounded behind Elouan, and he turned to the second opening in the bowl’s walls, an arched doorway overlooking the cliffs, with a ledge large enough for several dragons to land long enough to take human form. Servants kept clothing handy in case someone shifted and entered that way, a rudeness beyond measure during such an auspicious event.
Uncle Urien strode through the doorway, followed by some of his closest allies, all dressed in leather armor. Ice plunged into Elouan’s belly. They’d ridden other dragons to get here.
“Brother,” Urien proclaimed, voice overly loud and arms spread wide. “My apologies for missing your feast.”
Elouan reached for his missing dagger, for all the good such a small blade would do. His instructors had taught him to fight in both his forms, but few of Uncle Urien's men possessed experience with human-style weapons. Daire tensed beside Elouan.
Only Anrai remained blissfully unaware of the rising tension. Teron slunk toward Elouan, keeping his gaze fastened on Urien.
“It wasourfeast, brother, belonging to the entire court.” Father rose, crossing the distance to his brother. If Father didn’t sense the wrongness in the air, there must be no threat. Nevertheless, Elouan couldn’t seem to relax. Too many dragons stood nearby to gather information from smell alone.
His dragon coiled within him, ready to strike. But no. The wards wouldn’t let him shift.
Something about Urien’s smile, more of a sneer, sent unease squirming through Elouan’s belly. The sneer changed to a smirk as Urien embraced Father, sleeve falling back to reveal a gleam of… a knife blade?
Soldiers flooded through the entrance behind Urien and down the steps from above. Some wore the familiar High Reaches court uniforms; others wore strange garments Elouan had never seen before. A chorus of screams echoed around the bowl. The sound cut off abruptly.
“Father!” Elouan screamed, lunging for his uncle.
Two soldiers grabbed Elouan’s arms. “Let go of me!” He struggled. “Father!” he shrieked again, throwing off an attacker. Two more tackled him to the ground, where Elouan could only lie on his belly, clawing the flagstones to reach his father.
Inside, his dragon roared, demanding release to shred these men who dared hold him down.
Time stilled. Urien grinned, pulling back his hand. Oh, Goddess, no. This couldn’t be happening. She wouldn’t let this happen, would she? How had weapons gotten past the wards?
