Page 12 of Court of Secrets and Flames (Dragons of Tirene #2)

Chapter Twelve

Hours after my meltdown, I weave through the grand halls of the palace. A guard knocked to inform me that King Jasper requested my presence at the fire paddock, but his manner made it clear that request meant summoned.

It took me several paces down the hall to catch on that the guard wasn’t following.

Now I can’t shake the prickle at the back of my neck, the instinctive itch that this facade of freedom is all part of some elaborate ruse.

The chill of the shadowed path bites through the thin material of my dress, and I hasten my pace, eager for sunlight and answers.

And then I see them. Three small, spotted fawns lying just outside the walls of the gardens. How did they get here? I glance around, wondering if I can spot their mother anywhere. A doe often leaves her fawns alone during the day to go graze, but she’s always close by. The tiny, nearly defenseless creatures lie flat and still so as not to attract any predators.

Still, this isn’t a safe place for them. I’ll have to pick them up and move them someplace else. Preferably in thick grasses or…

A faint, familiar odor teases my nose, the memory just outside my reach. A little sweetness mixed with something less pleasant. Frowning, I stumble to an abrupt halt, my stomach lurching.

Fathomless black eyes peer skyward, giving them an eerie, otherworldly quality. Black veins bulge beneath their skin, marring their tiny bodies.

What could have done this? Were they poisoned? Did someone or something kill them and leave them here? I take a moment to search for tracks. If an animal slaughtered them, surely there would be blood. But there’s no sign of predation.

Which probably means a human killed them.

Averting my eyes, I skirt the fawns and continue on my way, but the uneasiness roused by the dead animals refuses to release me. Something about the bodies strikes me as unnatural, almost alien.

I shake off the distressing thought. I spent one of the last two hours crying before passing out, and that probably doesn’t even rank in the top five of crappy life moments over the past few days. Is it any wonder stumbling across dead baby animals tips my brain over the edge?

As upsetting as my unwanted discovery is, the riddle of who killed the fawns isn’t my primary concern. I require answers from the king on more pressing matters.

Stepping out into the morning light, I spot him ahead, already ambling along the pebbled path that leads around the fire paddock.

Before us, the enclosure unfurls. A vast expanse ringed with stone and metal. Squat blocky buildings form the center of the ring, with stone and sand grounds filling the rest of the space.

Metal carts stand against the side of the building, none so large a human couldn’t move them. Every part is designed to withstand the heat of dragon flame and still give the creatures what they need to remain comfortable. One section offers smooth sand for bathing. An enormous row of caves lines the back, each with a mouth that reaches as high as the treetops, allowing the dragons easy access. None of the caves have doors or any means of containing the dragons.

Over twenty mature dragons occupy the space. They represent all the colors of nature, with their undersides being lighter versions of their topsides. The smallest has to be at least fifteen feet tall and twenty feet long from shoulder to rump.

A thick yet delicate-appearing frill frames each dragon’s head to protect their ears from wind. Those frills undulate as the dragons trill and chirp to each other with content vocalizations.

They’re breathtaking…and more than a little terrifying. Especially after my encounter with two of these magnificent beasts just a few days ago.

But I don’t fear them any longer. Not much, anyway.

Guided by my experiences with groups of dragons at Flighthaven, I brace for an onslaught of negative emotions. The memory of my trips into the underground cells in the aerie induce a full-body shudder. Those poor dragons, locked away in the dark in enclosures barely large enough for them to turn around in, chained and wearing those metal muzzles to prevent them from breathing fire.

The anticipated influx of depression and pain never happens, and my muscles slowly relax as I draw near. Duh, of course it’s different here. Aclaris’s dragons were basically prisoners, whereas these ones can clearly come and go as they please.

The dragons’ minds brush against mine, feeding me their emotions. If there’s a way to block them out, I’m not aware. For now, I do my best to ignore the invasive feelings as I approach the king.

He’s dressed in an elegant but subdued cream-colored tunic and navy trousers. A gold ring with a large red gemstone flashes on his right hand, but no crown adorns his styled hair.

The faint smile he offers after he subjects me to a cursory inspection appears genuine, but I don’t trust it. If acting skills run in the family, then he could play the starring role in any theater.

He inclines his head. “Lark. I’m glad to see you looking so well. My guard assured me you were fine after your ordeal last night, but I must admit I feel better after witnessing your good health myself. I trust your new quarters are to your liking?”

“Yes, thank you.” I expected anger or at least irritation over destroying one of his suites, so his seeming authenticity throws me again. That probably explains why I blurt what pops into my head without thinking. “Do you want me to bow or curtsy? I know you’re a king but honestly, I’ve never understood the point of doing that every single time you see royalty. Doesn’t it make more sense to bow once and then after that, you don’t physically bow anymore and everyone can just assume you’re bowing in your head instead? I mean, um…”

I flinch and snap my jaw shut. What in the hells am I doing attempting to convince the king of Tirene that I don’t need to curtsy every time I see him? I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t toss me in the dungeon to cool my heels. I would have been better off trying my luck rejecting the king’s summons.

For several heart-stopping moments, the stunned king regards me with his lips parted. Then he shocks me by bursting into a throaty laugh.

Other people within earshot whirl around to stare. I ignore them and weave my fingers together in front of me.

His laughter fades into a smirk. “Well, as long as you’re curtsying in your head, how can I possibly complain?”

His surprising good humor prompts a reluctant smile to tug at my lips. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Excellent. Glad to hear we’re both on the same page.” His chin dips. “I need to apologize to you. Last night, the guard on duty stepped away from his post and left the door locked. I promise, he has been dealt with.” As he offers me his elbow, I wonder what happened to the guard but decide to curb my tongue. “As you’ve noticed today, I’m sure, the doors will remain unlocked from now on to prevent any tragic accidents.”

I curl my hand over his arm, allowing him to guide our path through the sprawling palace gardens. Even though I don’t love the circumstances under which this new privilege came about, I’m thrilled to learn I can come and go as I please.

“Thank you.”

The sunlight provides a delicious warmth as the king and I stroll and chat. He waxes poetic about some of his favorite things about Tirene—the beautiful rainforest and pristine beaches, bountiful dragons, the rich history, the people—and his passionate tone convinces even a new skeptic like me that he believes in what he says. He also shares a little bit about his family, and the way he talks reveals they’re important to him.

His father, the once formidable King Rex, is now nothing more than a memory. Queen Alannah, his mother, exists as little more than a wraith, her waning energy reserved in part for charity work.

“Her heart has always been with the people, not the politics, but her mind has faded a bit since my father died. Ah, and of course there’s Knox, my baby brother.”

His voice changes in a way that’s challenging to decipher when he speaks of his brother. If I had to guess, I’d say he sounds almost wistful.

I’m so desperate to learn more about Knox that I risk asking a question. As much as I prefer to pretend my feelings for him cut off the instant he unfurled his wings and revealed his lies, I’m not remotely over him. “Were the two of you close, growing up?”

The wistful expression deepens. “When we were little, before our father died, we played together all the time. Knox followed me around everywhere like a puppy, so one day I decided it would be a fun game for me to pretend to be a hunter and him my loyal dog. Everything went well until I got distracted by a huge toad I found inside my room. When Knox didn’t appear by dinnertime, my mother was frantic. That’s when I came strolling in and remembered I’d locked him the kennel after an imaginary hunt. Knox wanted to keep up the act and ended up falling asleep in there.”

I laugh out loud, trying my best to picture a young, playful version of the grumpy prince, so determined not to break out of his role as a puppy that he fell asleep in the dog enclosure. “I bet your mom wasn’t happy with you.”

He scratches his neck and shoots me a sheepish grin. “Definitely not. I got assigned kennel-cleaning duty for a week.”

King Jasper may be harsh at times. Cruel, even. But before his father’s death led to the weight of the kingdom landing upon his young shoulders, he was just another innocent boy. And clearly, there’s still good in him.

At least, Knox seems to think so.

Engrossed in the tale, I walk without paying attention to my surroundings until the sharp ring of steel-on-steel clues me in. Knox moves among his men in the training area with an enviable ease, his laughter booming out over the din of combat drills.

Within the group are soldiers in various stages of dress. Some wear undershirts and short pants. Others, like Knox, are in uniform but without helmets, tabards, or shirts.

They’re all impressive, but I only have eyes for the prince.

“Good block, Thom! But remember, anticipate the counterstrike.” Knox parries a blow from a burly soldier with a casual flick of his wrist. Turning to stand next to the man he was just facing, he goes through the motions again, this time with the proper follow-through to the parry he used.

Other men gather around and watch, their focus also stuck on the royal prince, their devotion written across their faces.

He’s a natural leader. It’s evident in every gesture, every word that falls from his lips. There’s no trace of formality. No royal airs. This is Sterling as one of them. A brother-in-arms. Not just a commander or their prince.

The soldiers within the fighting area crowd around him, seeking guidance, sharing jests, their respect for him a palpable, living thing that breathes through the ranks. They honor him, not because they must, but because he’s won their respect.

With a start, I realize I may have just given myself away by gaping for too long. I sneak a peek at Jasper and find his attention glued to Knox too.

All earlier traces of light-heartedness have vanished. A vein pulses near his left eye.

Jasper, the older brother, has left the house, leaving Jasper, the king, in his place.

My eyes return to Knox, and as I watch him there, surrounded by his men, worry settles heavy in my chest. I can’t help but ruminate on whether the king fears his brother. Not for any misdeed or ambition, but because of the love Sterling commands so effortlessly from those who serve beneath him.

The power of a leader isn’t always in the orders he gives, but often in the ones he doesn’t have to issue. Because when a leader is loved, truly loved, he holds the heart of the people in his hands. A weapon no king can afford to ignore.

“My brother, the golden child. He always did possess the uncanny knack for garnering admiration.”

My stomach twists with anxiety.

Is the king jealous of the prince? Or worse, does he feel threatened?

I choose my words carefully, not wanting to say anything that might provoke him and land Knox in hot water. My own anger aside, I don’t want the man to end up in a dank dungeon somewhere…or dead and nailed to the castle wall. “Siblings can be challenging.”

He considers that with a tilt of his head. “Indeed. Shall we? I have a surprise for you this afternoon. I hope you like it.”

I notice he doesn’t mention my mother and wonder if one of the guards overheard my outburst this morning and reported back. I decide not to bring it up as he leads us back to the castle, our path winding before us like a serpent returning to its lair.

He pauses before we go inside, gesturing with a carefree flourish that belies the tense muscles beneath my fingers. “Thank you for joining me on this outing. I enjoyed your company and look forward to spending more time getting to know you. I hate to rush off, but I have duties to attend to. I hope you appreciate your surprise. You’re worth more than a mere distraction from my duties. I’m sure you’ll have other things to do with your time, now that you’re free to roam the palace.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, I’m sure I will. I enjoyed my time with you as well.”

It’s not even a blatant lie. I did enjoy much of our outing. More than I would have guessed possible.

Is it possible I’ve misjudged the king?

Maybe. But I can’t help recall his sudden mood shift while watching his brother train and fthe lingering knots in my stomach.

King Jasper might be capable of charm, but the sight of those dead bodies impaled on spikes is forever seared into my brain.

For Knox’s sake, I hope jealousy isn’t a good enough reason for the king to ever consider having his brother join them.