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A Shade of Dragon 2(27)



“Or perhaps it is me who knows something that he did not,” Vulott responded. “Consider that the fire dragon females were executed by your grandfather, Emperor Bram.” Both paused to salute his memory, and my nose crinkled with rage. That man had slaughtered children, and they saluted him as they would have saluted a hero! “Did you ever think that Theon was, in his princely wisdom, making the most of an unfathomably bad situation? That perhaps, my son, he had no other options?”

My jaw clenched. Vulott was both right and wrong. Yes, the fire dragon males had resorted to searching foreign worlds for potential mates, but I had not selected Penelope solely based upon her fertility! I had selected Penelope because she was noble, and pure, and valiant, and reliable! She was soft but strong, and kind but fair, as a queen needs to be!

“I don’t care about Theon. I’m just saying that he picked her for some reason. He thought she was good enough for his throne. And you—you’ve never even met her, Father! What if I told you…” Lethe hesitated.

Michelle tried to squeeze next to me at the keyhole, but I kept my shoulder firm and blocked her.

“What if I told you that I might love her?”

In the corridor, the candles in the sconces streamed and flared with white-hot flames. It was the natural response of fire in the presence of a fire dragon with dangerously elevated blood pressure.

Beside me, Michelle whacked my shoulder, but had the intelligence to not make a sound.

The roaring of blood in my ears quieted, and the blackness tingling at the perimeters of my vision faded away to reveal Vulott Eraeus laughing.

“You love her?” He wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. I felt the draft from beneath the doorway intensify. “Oh, Lethe… so inexperienced. You poor bastard. We should have let you dally more than we did! Ice dragons cannot love, Lethe. We cannot. It is a capability we simply lack, as the fire dragons lack resistance to the cold.”

At this, Lethe turned his head, and I was able to see his profile, white on white against the master bedroom window. “That’s not true,” he said. His voice was heavy with sorrow, and blades of frost fanned from his feet as he turned.

“Oh, Lethe, my boy.” Although Vulott’s voice sounded like consolation, the expression on his face remained one of mirth. “You will have a queen. You will need a queen. But the queen to steer this wondrous island onward to greater and greater heights cannot sully the throne with soft-heartedness and gentleness. We demand a warrior queen for our warrior people. And humans? Humans are soft. You must look elsewhere than our own dungeons for your queen, son.”

The dungeons.

Yes. That was all I needed to know.

Standing, propelled by a silent and smoldering rage, I gripped Michelle’s shoulder and, with the slightest yelp from her, pulled her to her feet and down the corridor, back toward the stairwell, down, down, down into the dungeons. Behind us, the candles in the sconces continued to burst with flame like a welder’s torches.





Nell





It was daybreak when I was finally relieved of my chains. My wrists had turned red and raw from the abrasion of the metal. But, as I limped in my now soiled and singed petticoats, I was still grateful that Lethe had honored his promise to provide me with a cell—even if I would have been even more grateful if he had allowed me to return home.

At least the masked guard who came to collect me brought a fresh change of clothes.

“The prince sends his apologies for your circumstances,” the guard told me. He all but added, Human trash. “He wishes you to know that it was by Emperor Vulott’s command, and not his own, that you have been relegated to the dungeons. Although there are no single cells available, he has also demanded that the cells be made tighter, so that one may be afforded for you alone.”

“Oh… I don’t need that.” I didn’t want to force other prisoners to stand, or suffocate. “I’ll be fine in a cell with others.”

“I’m afraid the prince insisted,” the guard said. His stink-eye game was strong as he led me past row after row of jammed cells, until we reached the cell closest to another stairwell, a stairwell I hadn’t seen until now. “These will be your quarters until he is able to secure you a ‘proper’ room.”

I would have addressed the unnecessary tone, but “respectful communication” didn’t even clear the list of my concerns anymore. Rather, I let him lead me into the cell, and when we were inside, he thrust a set of pure white, linen fabric into my arms. It all matched, so it was difficult to tell what was petticoat and what was shawl, but I could see that it was intended to be some multi-layered, otherwise light gown.