Talon the Black (Dragonwall Series # 1)

Chapter 33 - The Capital

Eigaden Planes

Claire savored her last day in the sky. She loved flying, even though it made her sore and achy. She adored the freedom of the sky, the cool wind that whistled past her ears, and the sense of separation between her and the ground. The closer she got to the capital, the more she wished she could remain there forever.

A deep foreboding had settled over her, which intensified around mid-day, when the king's voice sounded in her mind. This time, he addressed all three Drengr. "How long until you are upon the city?"

"Several hours still, my king," came Jovari's response. "We will arrive before night falls."

"Good. I need not remind you that we are to pay proper respect to Cyrus when you arrive. All the traditions will be upheld."

A procession through the city was scheduled for that evening. Cyrus would then be taken to the pyre and burned by the fiery breath of King Talon himself. Following this, three days of funeral games would commence, as was custom for their people.

"We will observe the proper grieving time before we divert our attention to this girl from beyond."

"Of course, Your Grace," said Reyr. "What then is to be done in the meantime, until Claire can speak with you?"

"Speak with me? She will not be speaking with me. I will face her at her trial, as is custom for suspected criminals, and if she is found guilty of killing Cyrus, she will beg for mercy before the end."

Claire gasped, unable to conceal the shock of his words. She was not generally weak stomached, but here and now, the king's words did not sit well with her. Was this the monster she was up against?

"I do not think that is wise, Your Grace," said Reyr.

"My verdict is not up for negotiation. When she arrives, the guards will be there to take her."

"Take her where?" Reyr's words were measured. His golden scales heated up beneath her legs, as if the fires within him were stoked. She shifted uncomfortably.

"To the dungeons. Where else do we keep criminals awaiting trial?"

"The...the dungeons, Your Grace?"

Her heart stopped. Angry tears clouded her vision. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"Your Grace, if I may—" Jovari tried to cut in.

"You may not!"

She glanced over at the sapphire blue dragon beside her, surprised that he'd been about to defend her.

"These are my commands," the king said. "They are not up for negotiation. This girl has poisoned your minds. Do not assume her innocence."

Silence fell heavy between them.

The king's voice sounded once more, this time softer. "The three of you have spent far too much time with her. It is a dangerous thing, fraternizing with the enemy. When you arrive, you are to sever all contact and leave her to the guards. That is final."

"Yes, Your Grace," came their responses. And then the contact was broken.

Reyr gave a frustrated growl. It reverberated through her legs. The others said nothing.

She wanted to scream. So many emotions flooded through her—anger, frustration, fear. Especially fear. She shouldn't have come. Shouldn't have agreed to Cyrus's request. Shouldn't have made an Unbreakable Promise.