Page 38 of The Sun God’s Prize (Child of Scale and Fire #3)

The fuck it was.

He paces past me, now out of range of my hands, and I’m so stunned by his admission that I let him.

But he’s not leaving, he’s just trying to shed some of his anxiety, spinning and returning to me with his hands clasped behind his back.

He carries on as far as he can before returning, talking low and intensely, keeping his voice down to contain this conversation to us.

Something the two witnesses—Sheelan in the bed, still undiscovered, and her protector warrior, watching us from the shadows—have as yet to challenge.

“This incarnation of the Sun God is a far different man than the one we faced thirty years ago.” His sneer curves his lip as Hallick remembers.

But does he remember accurately, or has the magic twisted him, too?

I’m willing to hear his side of the story, if only to glean the truth from it as best I can.

“Mortal men who claim to be gods.” He resumes his pacing. “The arrogance of it.”

I inhale to comment after all, but Hallick tsks at me with a sharp look that says he knows what I’m about to accuse him of. I shrug and let him go on. At least he’s being honest about his own motivations.

“Your mother played her part, you know,” he says.

“She volunteered, in fact, after she stood against his armies at Wernuth Pass, held them back until the kingdom’s combined forces could reach her.

The dragon wouldn’t help us against the invasion.

She just huddled in that city of hers, on her island, and told us to deal with it.

” He slams one fist into his open palm, the loud smack punctuating his words.

“And forget that mate of hers.” He stops to jab a long finger at me.

“Or her so-called protector, your grandfather. He failed us all, Remalla, as did your father.”

The drakonkin king, or whatever it was they called him. “Neem’s mate and kinspark,” I say.

“He didn’t even try to convince her,” Hallick says, panic in his voice, his attempt to explain tearing at old wounds covered over but still left to fester and rot.

“My mentor, the former Chancellor, suggested we find the means to encourage her to assist us.” He pauses for one breath.

“I figured out how to make it work. A certain spell book came into my possession from the far shores of Dorgondon, and with it, I brought peace to the Overkingdom.” He sounds proud, though there’s a forced fierceness to it that implies he’s spent all this time trying to convince himself of something.

“You tried to use magic on a dragon.” I can barely muster anything but disdain.

“We had to do something,” he says. “Someone had to try. Before it was too late. And your mother volunteered, came to us, in fact. She delivered the spell with her own hands. She’s the reason we succeeded.

” I won’t believe that. He’s lying to me.

But he’s insistent, jabs the air between us again.

“Were you truly Jhanette’s daughter, you’d stand up for your Overkingdom as well, not tear down what she sacrificed so much to save. ”

No. He’s lying, and I’m done with him.

But he’s far from done with me. In fact, he barely seems to notice my turmoil, the ache that blossoms inside me.

Maybe I’m just good at hiding it, or perhaps, more than likely, he doesn’t care about the damage he does.

“Then she goes and fucks that drakonkin,” he says.

“Forgets who she is, why she acted. Gets fucking pregnant ,” he glares at me like this is my fault.

“With you .” He stops abruptly in his tracks.

“And you fall for the scion, of all people.” His lips twist, face contorting in rage.

He’s forgotten how easily he could die, how close he stands to me.

But not for long, the shift in his expression abrupt when reality returns to him.

“Don’t speak of him,” I say, quiet and full of threat. “You brought Vivenne back. How?”

The shift in topic seems to surprise him, but he answers regardless.

“Dragon magic,” he says, though a kind of dread crosses his face when he goes on.

“It’s not meant for us, Remalla. It’s… something far beyond us.

She’s not really alive, you know.” Is he trying to comfort me in his own twisted way?

“You did kill her. But I needed her still, and it’s not the first time we raised someone… ”

Wait, who else did they bring back to life? I think of Atlas, of the memory he had of his grandfather’s funeral, of his father begging for the life of his wife. Atlas’s recollections are those of a child, but could he have witnessed more than he remembers even now?

Did they raise his mother after all?

The horror of that, of my sweet, loving Overprince faced with the not-alive emptiness of the woman he adored, has me wanting more than ever to make a brand-new hole in Hallick’s face.

“Drakonkin needed to be limited, controlled.” He paces away, excuses returning, explanation a plea for understanding. “With her power contained, we couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t turn against us.”

“You could have killed them all,” I say, cold, abrupt.

“Don’t you think we tried?” He snarls that at me. “We tried. But the magic wouldn’t let us, and by the time the memory of the past was rewritten, it was no longer necessary.” He frowns. “What did the power you stole do, Remalla?” It’s his turn to fire a question at me.

I shrug. “I don’t know what you mean,” I say.

He huffs a breath. “It doesn’t matter now,” Hallick says.

“We’re too late.” The dragon said the same.

If they both think so, could it be true?

“You have to know, Neem was dying anyway. We put her out of her misery.” Also a lie, unless the dragon in my head doesn’t recall clearly.

That, I have to admit, is possible. “None of which matters anymore. Only the power we took from Neem was enough to stop the Sun God at the border, and has held the Sunnish armies back ever since.”

“So, why now? Why are you here?” Wait, does he know he’s the reason the Sun God is a problem? Or am I wrong about the timing of his arrival? Could it be the decline of the dragon who protects this land—whose egg I’m now tasked to find—that triggered the Sun God and his heir to madness?

I hadn’t considered that before, but I do now as Hallick collapses in on himself a little, no longer the towering, threatening Chancellor, or the retreating coward. He’s older than he looks, lines in his face deepening, his shoulders rounding forward, and when he speaks again, his voice shakes.

“They’ve lurked here, a threat, all these years,” he says. “When you and your stupid mother decided to break the pact, to bring drakonkin into the Citadel, to threaten what we built, the Overking agreed. It was time. To act. To protect us from this threat once and for all.”

He’s either paranoid or power hungry or both. Or perhaps he’s just hung onto an idea for so long—with dragon magic leeching into his brain this whole time—that he can’t be rid of it.

“You want me to help you,” I say. “But let’s be honest here, Hallick, you and me. You murdered my mother.” Not directly, but certainly, he had a hand in it.

“That was Gyster’s order,” he says. “I knew of your parentage, and I said nothing.”

“Despite knowing what it meant,” I say. “You gave me the impression you wanted me to marry Atlas.”

“I wanted your compliance,” he says. “I never in a million years believed that idiot would choose you on purpose.” His disgust is thinly veiled. “Of all the fucking princesses.”

“You told Vae,” I say, “knowing she would inform the Overking.”

“Insurance against your rebellion,” he says, gritting his teeth. “I did not expect Jhanette to throw her life away as she did, Remalla. I promise you, that was the last thing I wanted.”

“And Amber?” Our ambassador to Winderose, also dead. “Not to mention you sent Vivenne to drown me long before my mother died.”

“An error in judgment,” he says, dark eyes narrowing. “I needed you in Winderose, but not to marry Atlas. That was meant for Vae. You were meant to fall in line. You brought this on yourself, Remalla.”

“Then I guess I’ll just kill you,” I say, “and forget all of my bad decisions made.”

“You haven’t heard a word,” he snaps, this time not retreating or showing fear when I stare coldly back.

“We are on the same side, like it or not. You think me the problem, Ranaslo and Gyster tyrants, for what we did. But the Sun God is worse, I assure you. Has what you’ve endured since your kidnapping not taught you that truth?

” I haven’t decided either way yet, to be honest. Because one kind of slavery or another, what did it matter when dragon magic was used to rewrite the world?

“If he’s allowed to get his hands on the dragon’s magic, the whole world will burn. ”

He’s desperate, that much is certain, to come to me for help. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Kill him,” Hallick says, stepping into me suddenly, fervor startling, command in his voice as it drops in tone and volume.

He raises a fist between us, dark eyes intent.

“Kill the Sun God and that whelp of his, the daughter who pretends to be foolish. End their royal line and open the way for the power we hold to claim this land and unite us against invasion.”

This has nothing to do with fear of the Sun God. It’s pure greed. I feel it, see it clearly, even if he’s lying to himself about his motivations. “Next, Dorgondon,” I say. “Because the other continent, too. Just in case.”

He nods, eyes widening. “Yes, you see the vision now,” Hallick tells me. “I will let the magic take Vivenne, Remalla, and place you at the head of the armies of our people. You will lead as your mother once would have, and you will conquer the world for us.”

For the glory might not be spoken, far too Sunnish for Hallick, but it’s implied. And proves there’s nothing altruistic about him or his goals. The question is, does the Overking agree?

Do I care?

“You haven’t thought that through,” I say, not bothering to hide my cynicism or my spite. “There will be no leading of armies for me. The Sun God’s guards will kill me before I finish the work. Unless you plan to raise my corpse, as you did Vivenne.”

He tenses, pulls back, sullen response smoothing out to the more familiar smirk. I’ve caught him in his web of lies. He’s not usually so easily unwound. “Well, sacrifices must be made for the good of all,” he says.

He’s mad. The dragon magic he bespelled is even now rotting his brain, and no one knew, no one did a thing to stop it. But I see it now.

Before I can kill him—snapping his neck will be a kindness he doesn’t deserve—he turns and strides for the door. I could chase him down, Hallick pausing in the archway, dark eyes turned to me.

“Make the right choice, Remalla,” he says, sounding for all like he has my best interests at heart. “For all our sakes.” And then he’s gone, the door firmly shut behind him, and I’m exhaling into the humid air of my chamber, jaw aching from the clenching that’s barely contained me until now.

The dark-clad warrior stares back at me, making no move against me.

I hear a rustling, turn to find Sheelan fleeing, her robe fumbling around her, exiting through into the garden.

I can’t follow, her shadow’s threat in a motion of one hand, the guards immediately turning their arrows on me when I try, so I’m forced to let her go.

At least she’s protected by the order’s warrior, safe from Hallick’s schemes for the time being.

But not for long.

She heard everything.

I just hope she knows I have no plan to follow through on Hallick’s request. Because otherwise, they might as well fill me with arrows right now.

If she goes to her father with this, despite the kinspark and my hate for the Chancellor, I’m still a co-conspirator in the plot to assassinate the sun God.

I’m as good as dead.

***