Page 28 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons (Empire of Vengeance #4)

I wanted desperately to explain, to somehow make her understand that this wasn't who I was, that I was as trapped as anyone in this nightmare.

But how could I? How could I tell her about the dungeons without revealing who I really was?

And if I revealed that truth, what then?

Would she see me as the enemy? Would she try to stop me and get herself killed in the process?

The hours passed slowly in a blur of marching feet and beating wings.

The landscape rolled by beneath us—rolling hills, small farming communities, ancient bridges that had carried countless armies before us.

It should have been beautiful, but all I could see was the path to slaughter we were following.

It should have been peaceful, but war raged inside my mind.

My gaze inevitably found Livia again. She was speaking with Antonius, who walked beside Sirrax, his hand resting on the dragon’s massive flank in a gesture of easy familiarity.

She laughed at something he said, a brief, genuine sound that was carried away by the wind.

A shard of ice pierced my chest. She could still laugh.

She still had her truth, her honour. I had nothing left but secrets and the blood of innocents on my hands.

Once she found out the truth, I would lose her.

As evening approached, we made camp on a hilltop that provided good visibility in all directions.

I dismounted from my dragon and as commander, I walked the perimeter, my mind a chaotic mess of troop dispositions and supply requisitions, the mundane details of war a bizarre counterpoint to the moral horror of our purpose.

The recruits were in high spirits, gathered around campfires, singing songs of home and glory.

They were children playing at being soldiers, sharpening their swords for a slaughter they believed was righteous.

They looked to me with respect, with trust. And with every nod of acknowledgement I gave, every order I issued, I felt another piece of my soul flake away into dust.

I saw Livia across the grounds, her form silhouetted by a roaring campfire.

She was with Marcus and Antonius, tending to Sirrax.

They worked together with an easy familiarity, a tight, closed circle of family.

A circle I was no longer a part of. She laughed at something one of them said, a clear, bright sound that cut through the noise of the camp and stabbed me in the chest. She never once looked my way.

Later, when my duties were done, I went to Imperia. The great gold dragon lay curled on the ground, her scales dull in the flickering firelight. I reached out, my hand hesitating before it touched the cold, unyielding metal of her collar.

I’m sorry , I thought, pushing the words at her with all the desperate shame that was consuming me. I didn’t know what they were doing to you. To all of you.

For a long moment, there was nothing. Then, a flicker.

Not a voice, not a word, but a feeling that brushed against my consciousness.

It was faint, ancient, and filled with a sorrow so vast it felt like drowning.

Then it was gone, leaving only the dull emptiness of a mind long silenced.

It was worse than no response at all. It was the ghost of a person, proof that I was not her rider, but her jailer.

Desperate for some kind of connection, some reassurance I was still me, I went in search of Livia. Antonius and Marcus were setting up her tent, and she stood leaning against Sirrax, gazing up at the night sky.

"Livia," I said softly as I drew near.

"Wing Commander," she said formally, and the title felt like a blade between my ribs.

"Please don't," I said. "Not you. Not after everything."

"After everything?" Her voice was quiet, but I heard the edge in it. "You mean after you let me believe you felt the same way as I did about all of this?”

The accusation hung between us like a physical barrier. I wanted to tell her the truth— that I was the Crown Prince and my father was the architect of this entire nightmare. But the words stuck in my throat.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," I said instead. "The promotion—I didn't want it, didn't ask for it."

"But you accepted it." Her eyes searched my face, looking for something I couldn't give her. "You could have refused. You could have recommended someone else. But you didn't."

"It's not that simple—"

"Isn't it?" She stepped closer, and I could see the pain she was trying to hide.

"Jalend, I've watched you these past few days.

You've looked like a man carrying the weight of the world, and I thought.

.. I thought maybe you trusted me enough to share whatever was eating at you.

But instead, you just withdrew. You pulled away and accepted a promotion to lead us into a war you've said yourself is wrong. "

The worst part was that she was right. I had pulled away, had let my own guilt and fear drive a wedge between us. And now she was looking at me like I was a stranger, like everything we'd shared had been built on lies.

Which, in a way, it had been.

"There are things you don't understand," I said desperately. "Complications I can't explain—"

"Then try." Her voice broke slightly. "Help me understand why the man who held me and told me about his nightmares is now wearing Imperial silver and giving orders to kill people he knows are innocent."

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

How could I tell her about the dungeons?

About the thousands of lives hanging in the balance?

About the choice my father had forced on me?

She would either think me a monster for going along with it, or she'd try to help and get herself killed in the process.

"I can't," I whispered.

"Can't, or won't?"

"Livia—"

She held up a hand, stopping me before I could say more. The gesture was small, but it felt like a door slamming shut in my face. “Don’t,” she said, her voice flat and cold. “Don’t say my name like that. Not anymore.”

She took a step back, putting more distance between us, her face a mask of disappointment that was far worse than any anger.

“I thought you were different,” she said, her words quiet but each one a perfectly aimed dart.

“I thought you saw the lies for what they were. I guess I was wrong. You’re just like the rest of them, willing to trade your principles for a silver sash and a title.

You know what this war is. You know what they plan to do to the Talfen.

And you chose this.” She gestured at my uniform, at the authority I wore like a shroud. “You chose them.”

“What about you?” I demanded. “You’re here, wearing your own uniform, ready to fly your own dragon into battle. At least being in command means I can control how things happen. I can make our soldiers act with some kind of humanity.”

“Kill them cleanly, you mean?” Livia glared up at me. “I’ll tell you what’s different about me, Jalend. It’s that I don’t intend to fight against them. In fact, I intend to help them. Somehow. I’m not sure how, and I don’t know if I can do anything, but I’m damn well going to try.”

She turned away from me then, her shoulders rigid. “I follow your orders because I have to, Wing Commander. But don’t ever mistake my obedience for trust. Or for anything else.”

She walked away without another word, back to the warmth of her fire, back to the men who had earned her loyalty.

I stood alone in the cold darkness, the space between us an impassable chasm.

She was right. I was a liar, a coward, a traitor to everything I claimed to believe in.

I had traded my soul to save thousands of lives she would never know about, and in doing so, I had lost the only one that truly mattered.

The title on my chest felt like a brand, marking me as the monster I had become.