Page 59 of Song of the Dragon Rider
Maeve's hands paused for a moment in my hair, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of her question. “And how didthat go?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral but with an underlying note of concern.
“It was... fine. We didn’t talk for long,” I replied vaguely, choosing my words with care. I wasn’t ready to dive into the details, not when I was still processing them myself.
Maeve resumed her task, her expression thoughtful. “I see,” she said, drawing out the words. It was clear she sensed there was more to the story, but she didn’t push. Instead, she simply added, “Well, if there is anything you need to talk about, you know I am here.”
I smiled faintly, grateful for her discretion and support. The tension in my shoulders eased just a bit. “Thank you, Maeve. I appreciate that.” Her presence was a steady constant in the whirlwind my life had become since arriving in Elaria.
“I must go check on young Master Jacob and his injuries, but Lord Zacharia is in the dining room waiting to speak with you. Would you like me to come with you?” she delicately asked.
I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. This is something I have to handle myself. I’m sure he heard about what happened last night—”
“Whatdidhappen last night?” she interrupted with an urgent whisper. “How did young Master Jacob get hurt so badly?”
I sighed. “It’s a long story, but ultimately, it’s my fault. So whatever punishment Lord Zacharia has cooked up for me, I’ll gladly accept it.”
Maeve’s eyes widened. “My lady, you can’t possibly—”
“Don’t worry about it, Maeve. Go take care of Jacob.” I smiled and pushed her towards the door. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”
As Maeve gathered the breakfast tray and turned to leave, she gave me one last knowing look—a silent reminder of her unwavering support—before exiting the room. Left alone, I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the secrets I carried. Maeve’sgentle probing had opened a door I wasn’t quite ready to walk through, but it was comforting to know she was on the other side, ready to listen whenever I was ready to speak.
Steelingmyself for what was bound to be a difficult conversation, I headed towards the dining room. Warm sunlight beamed down on me as I made my way through the outdoor walkway and tried to focus on the tranquility of early morning. My echoing footsteps amplified the dread building within me.
When I entered the dining room, Lord Zacharia was already seated at the head of the long, polished table. His expression was stern and his posture was rigid—an ominous sign of the conversation to come. He looked up as I approached, his gaze piercing.
“Arya,” he began, his voice low and controlled. “Sit.”
I complied, taking a seat across from him and folding my hands in my lap as I controlled my breathing to keep calm. It was hard to look at Lord Zacharia and not think of my true father. They were carbon copies of each other. But I had to remind myself they were not the same person. My father was dead.
“I received a full report of last night’s events at the palace,” he began, his eyes never leaving mine. “Your behavior was out of line. Not only did you disrespect Prince Julian, but you also managed to get your brother punished on your behalf.”
I swallowed hard, knowing any defense I offered would only worsen my situation. “Father, I—”
“Enough!” he cut me off sharply. “I’ve tended to spoil you since your mother died, but your actions have consequences, Arya. And this time, you went too far.”
Shit.
Before I could muster a response, he nodded towards the door. I turned to see two large, burly servants enter, their faces expressionless. My heart sank as I realized this conversation was about to go downhill. They approached my chair with deliberate, measured steps.
Lord Zacharia stood, his chair scraping against the floor. “You know the family punishment for such disgrace, Arya. You will accept your responsibility.”
No, I don’t know what the family punishment is. I’m not fuckin’ from here!I slowly stood and inched away from the two brawny servants.
“Don’t make this worse for yourself,” one of them murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle.
I glanced back at Lord Zacharia, hoping for some sign he would relent, but his face was set in grim determination, his eyes cold and expressionless. Eyes that resembled my real father’s, but weren’t his. I backed away slowly, only to feel a strong grip enclose my arms. Panic surged through me.
“Let me go!” I protested, struggling against their hold. The servants’ grips tightened and more hands joined, guiding—no, dragging—me out of the dining room and into the open courtyard. The struggle seemed to signal others, and soon, two more servants rushed over to help subdue me. Each man was broad and intimidating, their faces set in grim lines as they approached.
The cool morning air hit me with a rush, a stark contrast to the heated tension inside. We crossed the threshold into the courtyard, the site of my impending punishment. The beauty of the place, usually so calming with its blooming flowers and meticulously trimmed hedges, now felt stark and foreboding.
I kicked and twisted, trying to slip through their grasp. “Get off me!” I shouted, but they were well-trained and unnervingly strong. There was no way they were human. One of themgrabbed my flailing legs and lifted me off the ground, while the others managed to force my chest down onto a wooden plank that lay ominously in the center of the courtyard.
The scarred board was a reminder of archaic times and harsher punishments, for which I was about to get a front row seat. Rough wood abraded my skin as they pinned me face down with unyielding grips. My heart pounded, fear mingling with indignation. The scent of fresh grass and morning dew was ironically tranquil, a stark contrast to the unfolding harshness of my new reality. One servant firmly held my shoulders while another secured my legs. The tightness of their hold restricted my breathing, making each breath a laborious effort.
“Don’t do this,” I pleaded, my voice muffled against the wood. But my plea fell on deaf ears.
Lord Zacharia approached, his steps echoing ominously across the courtyard. “Hold her,” he commanded coldly.
