Page 37 of King of Fire and Scales

“Lovely,” Evanth replied dreamily.

Drake gave him one more burly strike to the shoulder, then turned to regard Nerin. He was sitting in the corner with a book opened on his lap, staring down.

The sky was a festering, swollen wound. The king took notice of the bruised yellow and inflamed pink hue as Evanth sighed, the heron disappearing out of sight.

“There he goes,” Evanth whispered.

As Evanth continued his composed contemplation, the king approached his loyal and abiding servant. Nerin remained with his head downcast, seemingly absorbed by whatever text he was reading.

“You do not stand for your king?” Drake grunted.

Nerin lifted his head and casually rose to his feet. He took another small bow, which wasn’t necessary, but expected nearly every time someone of a lesser status was being addressed by their monarchy.

“Apologies, My King,” he said, quietly. “Evanth has been quite restless, and with all of the commotion from this morning, I’m afraid he…”

Drake abruptly cut Nerin off with a swipe of his hand in front of him.

“I will not hear this nonsense. Let me hear your griping. I know you were in great favor of Sorcha. Come out with your thoughts.”

Nerin strained his lips hesitantly. Drake knew Nerin more than favored Sorcha. He was outright smitten with the woman. Though it was easy to fall under her spell of charm and plain physical appeal, Nerin desired more than that.

While others sneakily pined, he was respectful and kind. Nerin wasn’t of the ilk to manipulate a woman into bed. He had a raw, sentimental heart.

But none of that mattered to the king anymore. Sorcha was a traitor who wore her mask the most fluently. That was it. Even his dragon growled deep inside while thinking about it.

“Come now,” Drake snapped. “Your King demands your truth.”

Nerin piped up and squared his shoulders, shifting his face to a disturbed indifference.

“My King, you are correct in your assessment. I am rather fond of Sorcha, but many of the other staff within the castle are as well. I am compelled to tell you, with great respect, that arresting Sorcha was a mistake. I have the utmost faith that she would not commit any act of treachery against you or Thalia.”

The king was appalled but spoke with an intimidating placidity. He leaned forward, lowering his voice to keep Evanth from overhearing.

“I should very well throw you in the dungeon with your forsaken beloved for speaking such words to your king,” he sneered.

“My King,” Nerin said, bowing again, but continuing remorselessly, “it is you who implored me to share my truth. That is all that has occurred here today.”

Nerin was lean for a dragon shifter, and not nearly as tall as Drake. But he was steady on his feet and steadfast in his words. Drake couldn’t help but respect him.

But he also had to know his place.

“Nerin, I am thankful for your truth, but hear this, and hear me now,” the king murmured, placing a heavy hand on Nerin's shoulder, and inclining his head like a reptile.

“Your duty, as you have been assigned by your sovereign, is to Evanth. You are to care for Thalia’s father in between healing sessions. That is all your business pertains to. Do you understand?”

Nerin may have been brave, but he wasn’t a halfwit. He nodded wearily and took one final bow.

“Yes, My King. As you wish."

Drake finally left the room as rivets of red lightning threaded across the sky. He swooped out in his cape, a nagging feeling of doubt like a stone caught in his throat.

What if Sorcha was innocent? Before that day, the shifter-witch would have been the last person the king could have ever considered as a spy. She had always struck him as sincere in her intentions and organic optimism. It was strange to imagine being fooled so dreadfully over nearly a decade.

In addition to that terrible consideration, there was the rest of his staff to mull about. What if arresting Sorcha was the poison that dirtied the well? What if they were to turn on him and ignite a mutiny?

It was the last thing the king needed in lieu of an inevitable war.

The king growled to himself, the light of day nearly completely blackened.

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