Page 130 of Courting the Dragon Prince

Luther huffed and gave up trying to see outside. He sat back on the bench and faced the soldiers.

“You know this is treason, right? It’s treason to plot against the heir to your kingdom.” He gestured with his shackled hands to Onyx. “You could be hung for this.”

Luther glanced at Onyx, leaning towards him. “Actually, what is the punishment for treason in the Grey Mountains?” His lip quirked up. “Stoning?”

Onyx laughed. Or tried to. His lips twitched, and he wheezed.

Once again, Luther was all bravado. The defeated individual from the cell had disappeared entirely. But Onyx couldn’t get the image of Luther tear-streaked and broken from his mind.

“Quiet!” the tall, lanky soldier demanded.

The first soldier kicked Luther in the leg.

“Aww!” Luther glared at the broad-shouldered soldier, rubbing his shin. “That bloody hurt.”

“Serves you right,” the lanky soldier said. “We told you to be quiet.” He rested a hand on a dagger sheathed at his waist.

Both soldiers wore daggers. Onyx wondered if they’d been trained to use them. Daggers were part of the uniform for Grey Mountains soldiers even though not all earth elementals were trained to use them.

Onyx didn’t know either of these soldiers personally. Neither had trained at the Mystic Mountain Temple. Nor had he fought alongside either of them during the war. But both were earth elementals. They each wore a patch sewn on their shoulder that showed a mountain. The name of the mountain temple where they had trained had been sewn beneath.

Onyx squinted. He read the wordsMallmork Mountain Temple. It was the first temple that had been destroyed by a dragon attack. Everyone who’d been there at the time had perished. No wonder they were loyal to his uncle and his plan to once again wage war with the dragons. And they were so loyal that they’d help kill the heir to the throne of the Grey Mountains.

Onyx’s gaze went once again to the soldier’s hand resting on the hilt of the dagger. Onyx hadn’t been trained to use a dagger. Suddenly, without access to his powers, he’d wished he had been. Although, in his current drugged state, Onyx doubted he’d be much use with one.

When these two soldiers had carried Onyx like he was a large sack of potatoes from one of the back entrances of the castle to the wagon, he’d managed to count about fifteen soldiers. But since he’d had minimal control of his head and neck at the time, he knew more must be present.

He didn’t recognise all the soldiers he saw. But of those he did, he knew they’d once served his mother. And now they served his uncle.

Onyx guessed the other soldiers either rode on the outside of the wagon or on horseback with his uncle. Warden Flint hadn’t even looked at his nephew as he’d ordered the soldiers around before mounting his horse.

But Onyx wasn’t defeated. Not yet. He’d try to find a way out of this. He’d try to find an escape. Onyx would not give up without a fight.

Still, Onyx couldn’t help but feel their chances at survival were slim. They were outnumbered and unable to use their magic. Not to mention, his uncle was a powerful earth elemental. Like Onyx, his mother, and Tourmaline, his uncle could hurl boulders through the air with ease. And no doubt at least some of the soldiers would be powerful earth elementals too.

Onyx and Luther might have been able to escape if Onyx could channel and Luther could shift. And if Onyx hadn’t been drugged. But how could they get out of this situation?

Nevertheless, Onyx would not give up.

They rode silently for a while. Slowly, Onyx felt more and more clear-headed. Taking a deep breath, Onyx sat up. The wagon continued to rattle on.

“You’re looking better. Has whatever they gave you worn off?” Luther asked in a light tone, belying the fact that they were prisoners being led to their deaths.

“Somewhat,” Onyx said, pleased to hear his voice sounding firm and clear. “My uncle drugged me with a shit ton of lysithea.”

“Fuck!” Luther swore. “What an arsehole.”

“Shut up!” The broad-shouldered soldier once again kicked at Luther.

But with a casual movement, Luther lifted his legs out of her way, dodging the soldier’s foot with ease.

She grunted as her foot connected with the solid wood of the seat Luther sat on.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Luther said flippantly to Onyx, ignoring the soldier.

The soldier’s face burned bright red.

Onyx didn’t know if it was the look on her face, Luther’s carefree manner in the face of their joint deaths, or the remaining lysithea in his body, but Onyx burst out laughing. Luther’s face split into a grin.