Page 27 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons (Empire of Vengeance #4)
T he promotion came at dawn, delivered with all the ceremonial weight the Empire loved to attach to such moments. Legate Cassius himself handed me the commander's sash, his weathered face unreadable as he spoke the ritual words that elevated me above my peers.
"His Imperial Majesty has seen fit to recognize exceptional leadership among our recruits. By imperial decree, Jalend of Thessia is hereby promoted to Wing Commander and will lead the North Dragon Wing in the coming campaign."
The words felt like lead weights settling on my shoulders.
Around me, my fellow recruits offered congratulations, but I could see the questions in their eyes, the barely concealed resentment.
I'd been among them just yesterday; now I stood apart, marked by authority I'd never asked for and didn't want.
But I knew why it had happened. My father's invisible hand, reaching out to position his pieces exactly where he needed them. Even here, hundreds of miles from the capital, I couldn't escape the web of his manipulations. I couldn’t bear to look over to where Livia sat astride Sirrax. I didn’t feel worthy to meet her eyes, and see the disappointment waiting for me there.
She knew how I felt about the Empire’s treatment of the Talfen.
What must she think about my accepting the promotion?
I should have told her who I was, then she might have understood, but now it felt too late.
How could she ever trust me again, knowing what I kept from her.
The ceremony concluded, and I found myself alone with my new responsibilities, staring at the crisp parchment that outlined my duties.
Fourth Cohort—two hundred recruits fresh from the Academy, most of them barely older than myself.
Two hundred young lives that were now my responsibility to preserve or sacrifice as the campaign demanded.
More than that. I looked across the crowd again, this time not at the faces of my recent peers, but at the eyes of their dragons.
Creatures I now knew to have human sides.
Creatures forced into slavery so vile they weren’t even allowed to control their own bodies.
I felt sick with the shame of what we had done to them. And what I was about to make them do.
I thought of the dungeons beneath the palace, of the woman holding her baby, of the toddler clinging to her ragged dress. Every order I gave, every decision I made, would be weighed against their lives. My father had made sure of that.
"Well, well. Look who's risen in the world."
I turned to find Valeria approaching, her usually perfect uniform slightly dishevelled from the morning's preparations. Her dark eyes glittered with poorly concealed fury, and I could practically feel the anger radiating from her like heat from a forge.
"Valeria," I said carefully. "I know this must be—"
"Disappointing?" she cut me off, her voice sharp enough to cut stone. "Try insulting. I've been here longer than you, trained harder than you, scored higher than you in half our evaluations. But somehow, Lord Jalend of bumfuck Thessia gets handed a command while I'm left following orders."
Her words stung because they weren't entirely wrong.
Valeria had been here longer, had thrown herself into training with a dedication that bordered on obsession.
She came from one of the great senatorial families of the core provinces, old blood that traced its lineage back to the Empire's founding.
By every measure of merit and breeding, she should have been chosen over a minor lord from a frontier province.
If only she knew the truth.
"I didn't ask for this," I said quietly. "I don't want it any more than you want to see me have it."
"Don't." Her voice was dangerously low. "Don't you dare try to play the reluctant hero with me. You think I don't see what this is? You think I don't recognize political manoeuvring when it slaps me in the face?"
She stepped closer, and I could see the intelligence burning in her eyes, the quick mind that had made her such a formidable opponent in our tactical exercises. "Someone wanted you in this position. Someone with enough influence to override merit, experience, and common sense. The question is why."
My blood turned to ice. If Valeria started digging, started asking the right questions, how long would it take her to uncover the truth? And if she did, what would she do with that knowledge?
"Sometimes promotions aren't about merit," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Sometimes they're about connections, about family influence. You know how the Empire works."
"Oh, I know exactly how it works," she spat.
"I know that mediocrities get handed commands while people who've earned them get passed over.
I know that birth matters more than ability, politics more than competence.
What I don't know is why a backwater nobody like you suddenly has friends in high places. "
She was circling closer to the truth than I could afford to let her get. I forced myself to meet her gaze, to project the confidence of a minor noble who'd simply gotten lucky with his connections.
"Maybe you should be more concerned with proving yourself in the field than questioning decisions that have already been made," I said, letting a hint of aristocratic arrogance creep into my voice.
"Unless you'd prefer to explain to the Legate why you're more interested in politics than preparing for battle. "
Her face flushed with rage, but she stepped back. We both knew that challenging a superior officer too openly could result in disciplinary action she couldn't afford. Not when we were about to march to war.
"This isn't over," she said quietly. "When we get back from this campaign—if we get back—I'm going to find out exactly who's been pulling strings for you. And when I do..."
She left the threat hanging and walked away, her spine rigid with suppressed fury.
I watched her go and felt a cold certainty settle in my gut.
Valeria was dangerous—intelligent, ambitious, and now suspicious.
If she started investigating my background too thoroughly, she might uncover more than either of us could handle.
But that was a problem for later. Right now, I had more immediate concerns.
The drums thundered, a deafening beat that seemed to drown out all thought.
The massive formation began to move as one, thousands of soldiers and hundreds of dragons stirring to life with mechanical precision.
I took my place at the head of my wing, trying to project the confidence of a leader who knew what he was doing.
Behind me, two hundred young soldiers followed in perfect formation, their armour gleaming, their weapons sharp, their faces bright with the anticipation of glory.
They trusted me to lead them well. They trusted me to keep them alive.
The weight of that trust was almost unbearable.
In truth, I felt like I was drowning.
I tried to keep my eyes on the horizon, yet I was painfully aware of every movement of every shift of muscle of the dragon I had ridden from childhood.
A female gold. I had named her Imperia, and I had thought we’d had a good bond.
Now I knew differently. Now I knew the creature beneath me had a human form, had been taken as a child from her family, imprisoned, possibly even forced to breed and lay eggs.
Underneath me was an abused woman, and I her captor.
A wave of nausea swept over me. I could break her collar now and free her, but what would that accomplish?
Her freedom, yes, but at what cost? How could I free her and the other dragons, without being killed or imprisoned by my own father?
Those people under the city would be executed, and everything would go on as before.
But how could I ride her into battle, make her burn her own people, fight against a race I was coming to see had every reason to hate us as much as the Empire said they did?
The road north stretched before us, wide and paved with the precision that marked all Imperial construction.
Supply wagons rumbled ahead of us, loaded with everything an army needed to sustain itself in the field.
Above, other established dragon wings wheeled through the sky in perfect formation, their riders' armour glinting in the sun.
It was magnificent. It was terrifying. It was everything I'd been raised to admire and everything I'd come to despise.
Our wing would march for three days, allowing our dragons to acclimatise slowly to life outside of the stables.
I shook my head. We even kept them in cruel conditions, cramped into pens barely big enough for them to curl up in, let alone stretch or move around.
Would she even understand me if I spoke to her above a basic command?
My hand rested on the warm scales of her neck, no longer a master’s touch but a jailer’s.
I tried to push a thought toward her, not a command, but a question.
Are you there ? The silence that answered was more terrible than any roar of protest. There was nothing.
Only a void of placid obedience, a consciousness so deeply buried beneath years of torment and the cold magic of the collar that I wasn't sure a person remained at all.
She was a perfect weapon, a hollowed-out soul, and my father had handed me the leash.
What if I managed to free the dragons and they were too far gone, too lost in their dragon state to ever adjust to their freedom?
I glanced back at Livia in the formation behind me. She rode with professional competence, her attention focused on her duties, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. The careful way she avoided looking in my direction.