Some people arrived in the world great; others became great through hard work and dedication. Gwythyr was nothing but opportunistic, thriving on the misfortune of others, like some carrion bird feeding from corpses. He hardly qualified as a beta.Of course, no self-respecting alpha or omega would behave so badly either.
“Where are we going?” Like Elouan didn’t know. He braced himself, gripping the chains of his shackles and rising to his feet to create a bit of slack.
“To your trial.” No one did smug like Gwythyr, except for the man who pulled his strings: Urien. There would be no trial. A little humiliation interspersed with a bit of bragging, perhaps, but no trial.
One of the helmed guards unlocked the barred door, swung open the heavy panel, and stepped forward, an audible gulp sounding in his throat. His hands shook when he hung the lanterns on wall hooks and unclipped Elouan’s shackles from the overhead beam. They weren’t trusting enough to let Elouan’s hands go.
Smart move. Elouan flexed arm muscles too long disused, finally free.
One guard held each chain loosely. Elouan yanked. The startled guards flew right into his fists.Crunch.Their helms fell to the floor. The first guard screamed and went down, clutching his face. Blood gushed from between his fingers.
Primal bloodlust rose in Elouan’s alpha dragon at the scent of blood and the sight of a defeated foe at his feet. The dragon wanted to rend, to feast. Elouan’s nostrils flared, the smell of fear urging his alpha on.
Elouan grabbed the second guard, winding the chain around his neck and hoisting him back to collide with Elouan’s chest. Through bared teeth, Elouan growled, “I think you should’ve brought more guards.”
The man thrashed, scrabbling at the chain with his fingers, legs flailing. Elouan’s instincts screamedPrey!urging him to rend.
“Stop!” the hooded figure commanded.
While prickles ran over Elouan’s skin, the magic behind the order wasn’t sufficient to deal with a desperate, angry alpha fighting for his life, especially not one of the rightful king’s line.
Magic didn’t work well when aimed directly at the royal family, except for the ancient wards on the bowl, cast by more powerful mages ages ago and regularly replenished since. Despite what others might wish, fate made Elouan a prince, and he remained a prince. He squeezed harder, making the guard choke out a strangled cry. The other guard nursed his injury, but didn’t come to help his fellow guard.
Cowards. Both of them.
“Guards!” Gwythyr screamed.
“Stand down, Elouan,” the cloaked man growled. Once more, power tickled along Elouan’s skin. A warning, nothing more.
Elouan straightened to his full height, a head taller than the guards. “That’s Prince Elouan to you. Son of King Locryn of High Reaches Court, Crown Prince of the Thorne line.”
“Not anymore.” Gwythyr gave a feral grin full of teeth. Elouan could help him with that. One good punch and he’d grin toothless. “Urien is now king of High Reaches, as should’ve been his birthright, and Riven is Crown Prince.”
So, Urien wasted no time naming himself king, and cousin Riven wouldn’t reach maturity to rule one day, not with his sickly disposition. Still, the shock of the announcement sent freezing water through Elouan’s veins.
More footsteps pounded toward the cell. Elouan gritted his teeth, squeezing the guard’s throat harder. How many lives had this man stolen on the night of the massacre? Death would be too easy. All who aided Urien needed to pay dearly for their treachery.
Gwythyr grinned harder, though he’d already backed away a few paces. Guards gathered around him, pressing their way toward Elouan.
“Apologies, Prince Elouan,” the captain said, hanging her head. “Please release my guard and come peacefully. I’ve no wish to harm you.”
Elouan’s anger deflated. Gia was a good dragon and a better captain. He’d heard stories of her bravery from Daire. Her regret about the situation showed in every line of her defeated posture, and in her scent. She’d even referred to Elouan by his title. With a mate and the hope of an egg one day, to go against Urien now would likely put her or her family’s lives in jeopardy.
Perhaps both. Urien demanded total obedience. Not respect. Just blind obedience.
Elouan flung the guard away to lay gasping upon the floor.
Two guards took a chain each, nearly falling when they tried to tug Elouan forward. Elouan resisted a few more tries, just to remind the betas who they were dealing with. If he went anywhere with these men, it would only be because he chose to.
If only there were room enough to shift.
“That is enough!” Gwythyr snapped with a dramatic swipe of his hand. “You mustn’t keep your king waiting.”
“He’s not my king.” Amazing that Elouan only spat words, not fire. The sharp inhales of some guards said they agreed. Like the captain, they dared not speak out.
Gwythyr’s mouth dropped open. “Treason!” He gestured to the surrounding others, face purpling as he jabbed a finger in Elouan’s direction. Spittle flew from his mouth. “You heard him! Treason.”
Calling for witnesses? No one with any shred of decency would believe anything the arrogant little rodent said. Speaking of telling the truth…“Urien’s really scraping the bottom of the barrel for sycophants these days, isn’t he?” Elouan straightened, staring down the much smaller Gwythyr.
