Talon the Black (Dragonwall Series # 1)

Chapter 19 - A Possible Culprit

Kastali Dun

King Talon recognized his torment. He knew it well, for it found him as it often did. In so doing, it greeted him the way an old friend might after a long winter or distant journey. And this friend? He hated it. His heart cursed it.

Loss was not something he did well. For a king, loss meant guilt. Loss meant failure. Cyrus was his to protect. The bond they shared went deeper than blood. It was a profound connection that perhaps only mated Drengr could understand, but even then, it was different. Incomparable.

To accompany it, the rage and anger he so often wrestled with burned brightly, engulfing him within a blaze of uncontrollable emotion. He hated himself when he became like this! Yet this was how he coped. He had always been more dragon than human, and it showed. In times like these, by the gods, it showed.

Fury was easier than grief, it was easier than sorrow, though both were cowardly roads to take. Still, he took them. He took whatever he could. Life was hard enough as it was. And yet, though it was easier to be angry, it was not easier than the torment accompanying his loss. It was not easier than the guilt he felt from his failure.

The dragon side of him dominated. Such powerful emotions—not necessarily coherent and certainly not controllable—wreaked havoc on his surroundings. Most of the belongings in his private quarters had been smashed and broken. Even though wrecking them brought no comfort. He had done it anyway. Even afterward, he hadn't the heart to say the words that might make such objects whole again. He was no longer whole. The state of his living quarters was an accurate reflection of himself.

If only the gods would grant him one small mercy. He wanted nothing more than to remain locked away for eternity, never to face his duties, never to admit publicly of his errors, and most certainly, never to show how broken he felt.

A knock at his door disturbed him, sending fire through his veins. The guards knew better than to enter. He kept them terrified such that they stayed away. Ignoring the rapping nuisance, he gave no response. Instead, he sat on the torn armchair, swirling the contents of his brandy in a glass. It was the only thing that calmed him to some small measure.

His living space looked as though he had taken up his dragon form to rampage through the rooms. Maybe he had. He could not remember. Regardless, such an unflattering sight should remain private and unseen. He had no desire for anyone to behold it.

More pounding followed. He let forth a low growl in warning. Didn't the guards know better? "Leave me be!" he roared at last. And for a moment the knocking stopped. Only then, the door slowly opened.

He shot to his feet. Just as he was about to lose control and perhaps condemn a guard or two to the dungeons, Lady Saffra stepped through. Her eyes were wide as she took in the state of things. Silently, she shut the door behind her.

She was worried. He did not miss it upon her features. He frightened all, except those who mattered most to him. Saffra was young, just under twenty if his memory served him. Why should she not be afraid? Still, her obvious feelings brought only annoyance.

"I do not wish for your horrid tidings this day, Lady Saffra. You would do well to leave me before I act in a way that is not kingly." It was a trial, controlling his voice, controlling his temper.

She curtsied, clenching her skirts with her fists. "Your Grace, I—"

"Talon will do, Lady Saffra. I am no king today." He hated the respectful title she bestowed upon him. He did not deserve it.

Lady Saffra looked surprised by his words. She opened and closed her mouth several times. All the better to leave her speechless. He wanted naught to do with her. At last, she gave a small nod. "I apologize for coming to you in such a time."