Page 14 of Song of the Dragon Rider
“So you think it’s the dragons? Our own people trying to overthrow their emperor?” Thorne asked, skepticism painting his features.
I shrugged. “The dragons are divided into four clans, correct?” He nodded. “Yet only your clan, the Drakonars, are considered royalty and in line for the throne. Why is that?”
“It’s just the way things are,” Thorne replied, his tone dismissive yet tinged with a hint of defensiveness. “We were the chosen ones.”
His response was evasive, and I decided not to press further. It was clear there were layers to this situation that Thorne wasn't ready to disclose. The air in the room became oppressive with the weight of unsaid words as we each contemplated the tangled web of power, betrayal, and ancient secrets that lay before us.
Thorne's gaze flickered between Damien and me, a hint of unease knitting his brow. The dimly lit room, scented with the heavy aroma of sandalwood from the candles burning low on their stands, felt suddenly constrictive, the silence laden with the gravity of our discourse.
“She might be right, brother.” Damien leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table. His movement drew the shadows around him, lending a dramatic effect to his earnest expression. “If not you, then who else within our ranks desires enough power to challenge even the emperor?”
Thorne exhaled slowly, his breath audible in the quiet room. “It's a troubling thought,” he admitted, his voice carrying a weight of concern. “Our family has always been united at the forefront, but behind the scenes, there are rivalries, old grudges. Some of our kin might see this as an opportunity to ascend.”
I watched the brothers, sensing the delicate balance of trust and suspicion that existed between them. “Could it be someone from the other clans?” I suggested, trying to piece together the political puzzle. “Someone who might feel that the Drakonars have held power for too long?”
“That's a possibility,” Thorne conceded. His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the implications. “The other clans—Ignis, Nocturna, and Blazix—have all had their grievances over the years, and some are more outspoken than others. They might see the unrest with the vampires as a means to an end.”
Damien slowly nodded, his analytical mind turning over the information. “We need to investigate this quietly,” he said, his voice pitched low. “Any overt accusation could spark an internal conflict that would only serve to weaken us further.”
“What about the vampires?” I asked. “How do they fit into this? Are they just pawns, or is there something more we're not seeing?”
“It's likely they're being used, but by whom and for what purpose remains unclear,” Damien responded. His hand went to his chin, stroking thoughtfully. “This rebellion... if one is truly brewing, is more complex than a mere power grab.”
Thorne leaned back, his chair creaking under his weight. The soft light from the candles played across his face, throwing half of it in shadow. “This is why we need to proceed carefully. The slightest misstep could give our adversary the opening they're looking for.”
I nodded, feeling the depth of the conspiracy that tangled around us like the intricate tapestries on the walls. “What aboutthe emperor? What role does he play in this?” I asked, curious about Elaria’s topmost tier of power.
Thorne’s expression turned somber. “Father is... not the man he once was. His trust in his advisors has blinded him to the fractures within his own court. He only sees what he wants to see.”
“What about the seer?” I asked. “Hasn’t he said anything to him?”
Thorne shook his head.
The seer was the one who told me how to return to my world. He didn’t seem like a bad person, but I was not an overly trusting person. He was also the one who revealed the twin flame prophecy to the emperor and had Damien’s dragon bones and Heart Scale removed, so… maybe he’s not all that good, either.
Silence fell over us as we considered our next moves. The stakes were high, not just for the brothers, but for all of Elaria. The game of thrones was not merely a struggle for power; it was a fight for survival.
“Then it's settled,” Damien said finally, breaking the ponderous silence. “We continue with the plan to dismantle the underground fights and keep a close eye on the movements within the court. And Thorne, you'll need to watch your back more than ever.”
“With you watching it, there’s not much I need to do.” Thorne smirked and casually leaned back on the lounger.
Damien huffed. “I can watch your back from the mountain, but in the valley, you know my reach is limited.”
Thorne straightened and his expression turned somber. “I know, brother. I hope you know I won’t tell Father about your dragon bones.”
Damien nodded but didn’t say a word.
“Any luck finding your Heart Scale?” Thorne asked with a tilt of his head. “Without it, a simple paper cut could kill you.”
“Seriously?” I frowned and looked between the brothers.
Damien scoffed. “No, unless it was poisoned.” He blew out a tense breath. “I have no idea where my Heart Scale might be. I’m still searching.”
Damien’s brows were furrowed with true concern in his expression, and I could tell this was something that really bothered him. I could only imagine how vulnerable he might be feeling without it. How… human he felt.
Was I honestly feeling sympathetic for my captor? Geez. I wanted to punch myself in the face for my baffling case of Stockholm syndrome. I mean, no more than an hour ago I tried to skewer him with a butter knife. Now I was looking at him like he was a golden freakin’ retriever?
Get a grip, Cat!
