The Touch of Salvation

08: Dragons and Dirty Books

ADALIND

The High Council loved their celebrations. We loved the ordeal of preparation and then the political espionage of gossip, which is why I am sitting here on the raised porch watching as some Regents spar among one another.

Lux glances at me from the side, a small grin on her lips.

"If you would like to spar," I say to her. "Please do."

Unlike me, she enjoyed getting blood on her hands. It was a game to her, one she rarely lost, and when she did, she would grow better through harsh training. Out of my people, she was only behind Daario in combat skillset. There was no one, however, that could ever beat my Bloodrider, Daario.

That was why I did not often allow him to spar among these Regents. I never questioned his fidelity, but I do not trust anyone other than my closest advisors. I do not need all of Arden to know the power of my House. I didn't need to demonstrate our abilities and have a target on our backs.

Lux stills beside me and I glance at her. Her eyes are trained on the field where a man just entered beside Alastair, the Regent of House Ares. My brows furrow at the moradarthian tattoos on his displayed arms. The man regards Lux, a sly grin crawling on his face. My stomach twists.

Lux looks away, almost as if she were beaten. She was never one to back down from anyone, even myself. She never had before. Beside her, I watch as Daario's hands tighten on the arms of his chair.

There was only one thing, one person, that would make them freeze like this; the master of all their torment. The moradarthian who tortured them as children, forcing them to do horrific, awful trials to prove their worth. They were children.

"I did not realize we allowed women on the Council."

"Alastair," I bellow. "Who is your...friend?"

"This is Draven. He is the representative of the moradarthians."

"I see," I say. "And have you informed him of the respect that is due?"

"I do not respect people unless I feel they have earned it," Draven says. His confidence irks me. I could handle insults and disrespect thrown at me, but my people? My friends? My family?

"Come here," I order. Draven shares a look with Alastair. I can feel the gaze of other Regents on me. I hardly remember that the lycanthropes are here as well. Lacksidasically, Draven climbs the stairs to my seat. No one fears me, so no one is worried about what I would do with blatant disrespect. I am Adalyndra, The Kind, The Empathetic... He doesn't bow and he doesn't show regard to my Lords and Lady. "Do you know Lady Lux and Lord Daario?"

"I am surprised moradarthians are allowed to become Lords," he drawls. His eyes relax on Lux. "Yes."

"How?"

He shrugs. "I was their...teacher within House Ares."

"You should be proud," I say. My spine is straight - regal - as I speak to him. "You have taught them well, and now they are of higher status than you."

My masked insult rubs him the wrong way. I can tell by the way he stands straighter, his nose wrinkling. He takes a step near me. Daario stands.

"Daario sit. Do not waste your breath. This man should be kneeling for you."

"Kneeling?"

"Yes," I hiss. "He is a Lord and she is a Lady. What are you? Has Alastair made you anything other than a figure he uses to control moradarthians? You are a pawn."

Draven's laugh cuts through the courtyard. "Your Lady used to take me down her throat-"

Light bursts through me, expanding through the yard, blinding those around. When the burst of light dissolves, Draven is on his knees in front of Lux, his head bent in fear. I stand, calm, uncaring of the shock that courses through the area.