Page 27 of House of Embers (Royal Houses #5)

Chapter Twenty-Three

The Dragon Council

Tieran landed on a wide terrace halfway up the mountain with Evien right behind him. Dyta and Ordrax were already slinking down the wide corridor.

“Stay on my back,” Tieran ordered as he followed after them.

Kerrigan never thought that she would see inside the Holy Mountain. Tieran had never planned to return. It wasn’t fair for her to have asked him to do this, but what other choice did they have?

The Holy Mountain was the largest mountain on the continent of Alandria.

It was made up entirely of tendrille, the most valuable and strongest substance known to man and one of the only things with immunity to magic.

It was mined elsewhere for weaponry, but the Holy Mountain had never been mined for the substance.

It was sacred to the dragons. To get to the valuable mineral, someone would have to have a death wish.

And yet the corridors were large enough for a dragon the size of a house to comfortably navigate, veins of tendrille raced down the walls, an onyx seam flowing like a lightning strike down the barely illuminated walls, and in between the tendrille were ancient carvings etched into the walls depicting long-past battles with dragons in flight.

No humans were in the reliefs. They must have predated even dragon riders.

But someone had carved them. Someone had built these corridors. Someone had tunneled into the mountain. Who had done that? Dragons? Humans? Gods?

The options were equally perplexing and terrifying.

It wasn’t long before the dragons exited the corridor that opened up into a large antechamber.

It was half the size of the arena, with branching hallways going off in every direction.

Enormous, gilded double doors were closed tight at the far end of the room.

The ceiling was high enough that Kerrigan couldn’t even make out the art far above her.

Dragons could fly inside the mountain if they wanted.

Human attendants in loose, brown robes scurried back and forth through the corridors.

A group was cleaning furiously. Another was carrying a book half the size of their person made out of a hard leather, and still more were carrying jugs of water.

Well, at least that explained why the place didn’t smell as bad as she’d thought it would with just dragons living here.

Someone was keeping the whole place from smelling like an aerie.

Dyta slunk through the double doors, leaving them with Ordrax’s stoic company. The multihued dragon took up a sentinel position at the door while Tieran and Evien came closer to the door.

“What’s happening next?” she asked Tieran.

“We meet with the Dragon Council to deliver your request.”

“And will they take kindly to that?”

Tieran rumbled underneath her. “They will not take kindly to my appearance, let alone your request. I already told you that this was a bad idea.”

“Then what’s the plan?”

“Let me do the talking,” he said and then cut the connection again.

Kerrigan huffed, but she had to trust that Tieran would do what he said. He was here after all, even though he disagreed with it. She was seeing things that most riders, let alone humans or Fae, would never see. She’d be lucky if she left with her head.

It was a painfully long half hour before the golden doors opened once more and Dyta slithered back out.

“They will see you now,” she said.

Ordrax grunted and then followed Dyta through the door. Tieran lifted his head, the midnight-blue scales sparkling in the dim light, and stepped through after them with Evien on his flank.

Kerrigan’s jaw dropped as they entered the large circular chamber.

It could easily fit a dozen arenas in the space.

The floors were a black marbled tendrille.

The dragons’ talons clicked along the tile threateningly, as if they were going to break through the hardened substance.

Long tendrille-veined columns held up a viewing area reserved for more dragons than Kerrigan had ever thought existed.

At the center of the room were three ancient dragons, each easily the size of a manor home.

The center dragon was a majestic ruby with a barbed tail and narrowed, reptilian-slitted eyes.

The dragon to the right had shimmering purple and green scales with talons half as big as Kerrigan and glistening teeth that looked like they could have snapped her in half.

The final dragon was slender, with rippling turquoise scales, roughly the same build as Dyta with the webbed feet, but just as large as the others.

Each was as terrifying as the next, and they all seemed to grow even more massive as Tieran stepped up to meet their gazes.

He’d always been smaller, but she hadn’t realized how much smaller until she saw these elders before him.

He was merely a child in comparison. And yet he was facing them for her.

“Today, I, Thiery of Maldrian and Eldria, born of the Holy Mountain, first of the line of Domara of the Holy Lands, call to order a meeting of the remaining Dragon Council. May the elders rest their souls,” the center dragon said.

A flash of flames went up around the room, temporarily increasing the heat in the room. Audria glanced her way, but Kerrigan remained facing forward. She couldn’t give these apex predators a reason to kill them.

Tieran stiffened as Thiery turned her full attention on him. Warning bells went off in Kerrigan’s mind.

“Tieran, is that your…”

He sharply cut the connection as he faced down the giant. “Hello, Mother.”

Thiery meant red in ancient Fae, which explained her name considering her red scales.

It was what Kerrigan’s father had called her growing up: cavour de thiery— little red songbird.

She hadn’t put two and two together that Tieran’s mother was named the same thing as her nickname. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Tieran of Essex and Thiery, born of the Holy Mountain,” Thiery began, “ welcome home.”

If it was possible, he stiffened further at the welcome than the disdain at his appearance. He wasn’t welcome, and he hadn’t expected to be welcomed.

“Evien of Ighir and Xosy, born of Draco Mountain, welcome to the Holy Mountain.”

Evien dipped her head in acknowledgment.

Well, so far, this hadn’t gone terribly. They hadn’t been fried at least. Was that where the bar was?

“Let us feast to the return of two of our own,” Thiery continued.

“We are not here to feast,” Tieran said.

Thiery dipped her head at her son. “Allow us this moment. It is not often we have riders return to the Holy Mountain. We wish to celebrate the return of my son.”

Kerrigan couldn’t quite parse what her intentions were.

She wasn’t saying what she meant. That much was obvious.

The way that Tieran shifted uncomfortably under her gaze said everything Kerrigan needed to know.

She touched her magic and held it strong.

She had a shield at the ready if she needed, but gods, she didn’t know how it would hold out under ancient elder dragon fire.

They were trapped, and diplomacy seemed the easiest way out.

“I come with an official request of the council,” Tieran said, ignoring whatever warning she was trying to convey.

Evien dipped her head next to Tieran. “We both do.”

Thiery straightened. A wariness settled into her expression, quickly replaced by determination. “Make it. We, the assembled council, will hear your request.”

“This is the entire council?” Kerrigan asked Tieran.

“No. This is the assembled council. The three elder dragons can make decisions for the entire council.” He paused as if he was going to say more, then added just to Kerrigan, “Shields at the ready.”

Kerrigan gulped at that warning. Her finger was already on the shield in her mind, ready to go at the slightest provocation.

“We come from the front of a war between Fae, half-Fae, humans, and dragons. Many will fall in the coming cycle. Many riders. Many dragons,” Tieran said solemnly.

“Our work must always be to defend against those who wish harm upon our kind. And to do that, the simple truth is that we need more of our kind to succeed. We make a request of the council to send forth those dragons who have passed testing to our aid.”

The silence was thick in the room. The two dragons on either side of Thiery moved first, snorting derisively and breathing plumes of flame.

Thiery stood stoically, ignoring their distaste.

Her eyes were only on her son—the son she had sent into the dragon tournament despite his adamance that he never wanted a rider after the death of his mate.

He’d spent fifty cycles avoiding that duty, and she had sent him anyway with the only other option being death.

She was a hard, vicious dragon. Kerrigan could see that they’d lost before they had even stepped foot inside the mountain.

“Let me ask you something,” Thiery said. “What happens when the other side of your fight comes to us making the same request? When they too feel that their dragons are in danger and want more dragons to even the score. Which side do you take? Do you push hatchlings to testing sooner?”

“Their side is oppressive and wrong,” Tieran snarled.

“They would say the same of you.”

“They do not care about the dragons they have. They would sacrifice them to kill off the half-Fae and humans that they deem lesser.”

“And you would not?” she asked almost gently. “You would not sacrifice dragons for your cause? All will survive. You can guarantee that?”

“No one is safe in war,” Tieran said as if by rote.

“Correct. So I ask you again: What would you have us do if your enemy comes to the Holy Mountain, demanding a sacrifice of dragons for their war?”

Tieran was silent a beat. Kerrigan’s heart hammered in her chest. She wanted desperately to speak her piece, to give an impassioned speech to the dragons that would change their minds. But this was not her fight. Tieran had to win this one.

“You have to make a choice,” Tieran said finally. “You have to decide which side is right and back them.”

“The Holy Mountain makes no choice. We are neutral,” Thiery argued.

Kerrigan gritted her teeth at that, but Tieran was just as irritated with that line of thought. “Neutrality is a choice. It’s not doing nothing and letting it work itself out. It’s agreeing not to help and to let others die to keep yourself safe. It’s cowardice.”

Shock rippled through the other dragons. Even Evien appeared disconcerted at Tieran’s accusation.

Thiery’s back went up at the word. “We have always disagreed in this regard.”

“Father would have agreed with me.”

Thiery flashed her razor-sharp teeth at him. “And he died in such a war. You would do well to remember that war takes all you claim to love. No matter your allegiance.” Her serpentine head swiveled to the side. “Let us vote.”

At the same time, the words crashed into Kerrigan’s mind.

“Denied.”

“Denied.”

“Denied.”

A breath went out of her as the cacophony turned to silence. Denied. They weren’t getting any more dragons. But apparently neither was the Society. That was a sort of win at least. Better than what they’d expected. Just not good enough.

“You may leave now or be forced to leave,” Thiery told them.

Kerrigan patted Tieran’s back. “Come on. We should move.”

Only Tieran didn’t move.

“I call for the Threefold Test.”

Thiery stepped forward as if she could take back what he’d just said. Her slitted eyes widened in alarm. “No.”

“You cannot deny me,” Tieran argued.

“What’s the Threefold Test?” Kerrigan whispered into the stillness.

Lowan’s eyes were wide and excited as he glanced over at her. “A test for a council seat. It includes a single boon for a new member.”

Kerrigan’s stomach plummeted. This wasn’t part of the plan. Tieran hadn’t mentioned any of this.

“You don’t want this burden,” Thiery said urgently.

Tieran stared his mother down. “Joining the council is the only way to get what I want. You taught me that, Mother.”

Thiery’s eyes swiveled to Kerrigan’s, and for a second, she felt the oppressive nature of the dragon’s desperate voice in only her head. “Talk him out of this. He will die. You will die.”

Kerrigan met her cool gaze. “I am with him all the way.”

“As you say,” Thiery said, flat and emotionless. “The Threefold Test will begin tomorrow at sunrise. May the elders look favorably on your final hours.”