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It was inevitable.

Wren hung on for as long as she could. Her fingers cramped as her foot slipped. She crashed, spraying water everywhere. Water covered her face and she jerked upward, breaking the surface. She screamed as the water lapped at her neck with her sitting there. Wren scrambled to her feet, the canal water at her midthigh. Her muscles quivered as she tried and failed to climb the bloody cell wall again.

Panic swirled in her gut. How long did she have until the fish attacked?

She glanced at the canal as a spine broke through the surface of the water.

What the devil was that?

That is no small fish.

Wren clung to the bars when yellow, catlike eyes gleamed at her from beneath the small waves that her fall into the water had created.Her jaw dropped.

Is that…?

Wren could scarcely comprehend it. In a dungeon, in Verlanti? It seemed impossible.

But it wasn’t.

Swimming in front of Wren was a water dragon.

16

Arrik

His father was up to something.

The Verlantian navy had suffered heavy casualties during the battle near the Lorne capital. The king was a prideful man who took any mishap to be a personal affront to him. It was neverhisfault, but he always found someone to blame and punish. That was usually Arrik.

Or it had been, until he’d stopped making mistakes the king could trace back to him.

They’d lost too many ships for Arrik to sweep under the rug and his father hadn’t said a bloody thing about the losses. Something wasn’t right and it made him uneasy. His father was a mercurial creature but he had a pattern of behavior that Arrik had figured out years prior. The fact that it was changing now unsettled him.

“Brother!”

Arrik scowled in the dark and slowly turned around. It was better he faced his second eldest brother Cathal than try to outrun him, lest he find a knife in his face. In all truth, Arrik was older than Cathal and Ares, but the king had his birth date changed. No one knew Arrik was really the first born and if he wanted to keep living, it would stay that way.

Cathal sauntered up to him, a woman clinging to each of his arms. He smiled maliciously, flashing crooked teeth. Arrik rested his left hand on the pommel of his sword and braced himself. Dealing with his brother was like trying to dance with a viper. Dumb and extremely hazardous for one’s health.

“Brother,” he greeted, barely keeping the sarcasm from his voice. His half-brothers had never acted like true family. Cathal had sent a minimum of five assassins after Arrik throughout the years. He’d learned a few tricks. His brothers liked to rile him and cause mischief, so he did the exact opposite. He’d learned to master his control and never attacked outright. Arrik learned how to pull the strings from the shadows.

“I heard you visited your mother’s grave today,” his brother commented.

“I did.” He knew where this was going. The rat.

“Did you know,” Cathal continued conversationally, glancing at each of the women hanging on him, “That our precious Arrik’s mother killed herself on this day five years ago?” The woman with sable skin and black hair glanced at Arrik in sympathy but stayed silent when Cathal chuckled. “She lived life in luxury with everything a person could want. My father even buried her in the family tombs despite her disgrace.”

Arrik kept his temper in check even though he wanted to punch the drunken smirk off his older brother’s face. The fool didn’t know what he was talking about. Arrik’s mother had been a duchess and had refused the king’s advances as she was a married woman. Plus, his mum hated Soren. They’d grown up around each other as children and he’d proved himself to be a bully with a god complex that enjoyed hurting others. She managed to rebuff him as a young woman, but he hadn’t taken kindly to it the second time. The king had her husband killed, seized their lands, and then made Arrik’s mum one of his many wives. Soren found special pleasure in tormenting her. One such time led to the creation of Arrik. She used to say he was the only good thing to come out of the cursed palace.

“Why would anyone want to leave this place?” the other woman slurred, her green eyes glassy.

“Why indeed?” Cathal said with a smirk. “The tarte had everything.”

Arrik tensed and a strong hand gripped his left shoulder. He glanced at Shane, not surprised at all that his friend had snuck up on him. He moved like a wraith.

“My prince,” Shane murmured with a bow. “I believe the rest of your company eagerly awaits your arrival in your chambers.”

“Perfect!” Cathal grinned and plowed forward.