Page 42 of Song of the Dragon Rider
There was a pause, though the tension was palpable. Then the woman spoke again, her tone carefully measured. “And what of the rumors, Thorne? The twin flame prophecy… and the fae’s obsession with it? Have you considered that this might be more than a territorial dispute?”
Twin flame.The words hit me like a bolt of lightning and my grip tightened on the stem of my glass. Did they know about me and Damien? When I asked Klaus about it, he told me to run as far away from it as possible.
Thorne scoffed softly, though there was an edge to the sound. “Prophecies are for fools and fairy tales. The twin flame is nothing but an ancient myth, one the fae cling to because they refuse to live in the present. They still hope to revive their people, but it’s false hope.”
“You may not believe in it,” the woman said evenly, “but others do. And belief, whether grounded in truth or not, is enough to ignite a war.”
Before Thorne could respond, a servant approached with a deep bow, murmuring something that drew their conversation to an abrupt halt. I quickly turned away and pretended to admire the intricate embroidery on my dress as the group dispersed, their conversation leaving a thousand unanswered questions swirling in my mind.
Twin flame. Fae skirmishes. Mining operations. The weight of what I’d overheard pressed down on me, heavier than any gown or courtly expectation. Jacob was right—everyone here played a part. The question was, what part was I about to be thrust into?
I was still standing on the other side of the wide column when Thorne found me, his approach smooth as he navigated through the clusters of chatting nobles. The crowd seemed to naturally part for him, a testament to his status and the subtle command he held. “Lady Arya, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight!” His voice carried a warm note of surprise.
The sound of his voice made me jump. “It's a welcome change of scenery,” I admitted, my gaze briefly meeting his before drifting over his shoulder to see if he’d been followed by the others. “The palace always has a way of putting things into perspective.”
Thorne chuckled, his eyes bright with amusement. “It does, at that. And how are you finding the festivities? To your tastes, I hope?”
“Overwhelming, but in a good way.” I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, a nervous gesture that didn't go unnoticed by his observant eyes.
“Our gatherings tend to have that effect,” he agreed, his gaze briefly scanning the room before returning to me. “I hope they're proving to be... enlightening?”
“Every moment is a learning experience,” I said, offering a wry smile but not giving myself away. “Though I'm still getting used to all the nuances.”
“If there's anything you need, any questions you have, don't hesitate to ask,” Thorne offered, his tone sincere. “Despite what the court whispers, I'm here to assist, not just oversee.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” I murmured with a respectful bow, especially since I was almost a hundred percent positive he knew I’d overheard his conversation.
Thorne leaned forward slightly, invading my personal space and compelling me to lean away. “Does my brother know you’re here?”
I cleared my throat. “Yes,” I whispered. “Although my presence here shouldn’t be much of a surprise, considering my brother is part of the Nightwing battalion.”
Thorne raised a brow in surprise. “Is that so? Oh, right, I remember Lord Zacharia mentioned it at the luncheon. My father rewarded him, did he not?”
I nodded. “He did.”
“I’ll have to meet him tonight. Can you point him out?” Thorne turned and scouted the crowd.
I smiled nervously and nodded in Jacob’s direction. “You can’t miss him. We have the same eyes.”
“Ah, yes.” Thorne smiled when he spotted him across the crowd talking to his friends. “Youdolook very similar. Those Ryder genes are strong.”
“Yes, they are,” I agreed. “But the Drakonars aren’t far behind.” My eyes followed Prince Julian as he strutted through the crowd like he had already been pronounced emperor.
Thorne chuckled. “Yes, all but Damien, that is.” He pondered silently for a moment. “I wonder why that is?”
I peered over at him, surprised to hear him make a dig about his youngest brother. I mean, it was fairly obvious that Damien wasn’t the spitting image of his siblings. His coloring and demeanor were very different from the other men in his family. But still, I never mentioned it because I didn’t want to stir the pot. It wasn’t like Damien wanted anything to do with his family, anyway. If he was stripped of his Prince title this very instant and made a commoner, Damien would probably celebrate the event at The Gilded Serpent. Being a noble Drakonar wasn’t his dream… Freedom was.
I decided to change the subject. “Is the emperor here tonight?”
Thorne's expression subtly shifted, a hint of tension momentarily lining his features before he composed himself. “Yes, he will make an appearance soon,” he replied, his tone stiff and formal. “It's a significant event for the Nightwing battalion, and he takes pride in these ceremonies.”
As Thorne glanced around, monitoring the interactions in the ballroom with a practiced eye, I followed his gaze, sweeping over the ballroom with its high ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes depicting the history of Dragon Valley. Crystal chandeliers hung like stars, projecting a soft glow that reflected off the polished marble floors.
“Be careful of my brother Julian, Lady Arya,” Thorne said as he watched him from afar. “Since the luncheon, you haven’t exactly been his favorite person.”
I snorted. “I figured. Thanks for the heads up.”
He nodded. “I shouldn’t linger in one spot too long. It was nice talking to you. I do hope you’ll be careful. Have a nice time.”
