Reyr the Gold (Dragonwall Series # 2)

Chapter 8 - Talon's Intimidations

Kastali Dun

Talon stared at Claire and Reyr as they entered the dining hall. His throat turned dry. He watched as they laughed and smiled, conversing freely. Claire's arm was laced casually through Reyr's. She wore a light blue satin gown that cut low upon her chest. Her hair was pinned back behind her, showing off her long neck.

Talon's eyes wandered over her, taking her in. As he watched, his grip tightened around his goblet. It was so easy for Reyr to be around Claire—so effortless. He was not blind to their budding friendship, nor was he ignorant of the deeper feelings Reyr had for the woman. Reyr hid them well, but after centuries of friendship, he read Reyr as no one else could.

He hated his scars more than ever in this moment—he hated the man his misfortunes had created. His appearance and the color of his dragon scales were like a curse. He so often found himself envying others. Even now he envied Reyr as he escorted Claire to her seat. In his mind he envisioned a different scenario, one where Claire walked up the aisle towards him and took a seat beside him. She was royal, so why should she not sit at the head table? Those of royal blood always had in the past. When his parents were alive, he sat to his father's right while his mother sat at King Tallek's left.

He considered telling Claire this and then shook his head. She already hated him. If he forced her to sit beside him during mealtimes, it would not go over well. Moreover, mealtimes would no longer be easy for him with her there.

His eyes remained glued to Claire as Reyr made his way to the head table. At that very moment, Claire's gaze found his. She turned away as if she had not seen him.

"Good evening, Your Grace." Reyr captured his attention, giving him a respectful bow before rounding the table to sit. "You look unhappy, as usual, my king. What is it you wished to discuss?"

Talon looked at his empty plate for far too long before saying, "It is nothing. Forget about it." Truthfully, he wished it was nothing. If he silenced his thoughts, would the issue simply disappear?

"You're lying," said Reyr. "I know you well, remember? I can see the lie in your eyes."

Talon looked away and sighed. "Claire does not look herself this evening. You were just with her. Is everything all right?" He glanced at Claire for the umpteenth time and saw her deep scowl.

"And here I thought you would be more interested in this afternoon's drills," said Reyr, a chuckle rising from his chest. "They went quite well, so you know."

"Cease and desist, Reyr. I received updates from Verath—you know that."

"Yes, yes, I know." Reyr waved his hand in dismissal. "Just giving you a hard time." As he said it, his eyes darted in Claire's direction. "I suppose she does appear rather upset. She had a long day."

He waited until his patience wore thin. "Is that all?" Reyr was hiding something.

The doors to the hall closed with a grinding thud. Servants poured in from the servant entrances, and the room filled with pleasant aromas. Talon's hunger rose. As of late, his appetite had been lacking; the pressure of his position was getting the better of him.

Once more, he glanced at Claire. "I take it her lessons did not go well?"

"You should discuss the matter with her."

"She hates me."

"Do you blame her?" Reyr turned to meet his gaze. "You have hardly atoned for your behaviors."

"I gave her the nicest accommodations in the keep!" he cried. "She has been elevated to royalty. Her every want and need met. What more can I do to make her happy?"