Page 83 of The Forbidden Dragon King
A long silence.
My pulse speeds up.
Then the silver doors magically swing open with a creak.
I tilt up my chin and march into the study, containing my flinch as the doors slam shut behind me.
The study is larger than mine is. The floor is a mosaic of red, iron, and silver stones in woven knots, framing a stern looking portrait of Maximinus. The walls of the study are lined with shelves, which are overflowing with scrolls, letters, and official papers, as if he is the king, rather than me.
Gold and silver statues of dragons and our family ancestors line the room and are painted onto frescoes on the walls, including Mother and Father.
I barely remember my parents. I was too young when they died for them to live as more than ghosts in my mind.
Pale morning light streams through the arched window behind the large writing desk, which crouches like a spider in the center of the room. And behind it, sits Maximinus.
He’s dressed in a metallic tunic with the silver dragonof the royal house embroidered on it, along with matching breeches. His cloak is gray and made of fine wool.
Maximinus’ desk is cluttered with artifacts, relics, talismans, and powerful items of arcane, ancient magic that make the hair rise on the back of my neck and set my teeth on edge.
Fucking sorcery.
Why does Maximinus insist on suppressing my pet fae’s magic but loves playing with all this shit? Or is it that he fears Daire’s magic is more powerful than his own?
Maximinus would never allow anyone to challenge him.
He was the strong twin, Tarquin once told me in one of our clandestine meetings in the hidden Silver Tower, where we knew we could hide alone from Maximinus. I still knew that my brother’s words were a treasonous secret never to be repeated:Even if Father was the eldest by three minutes, Uncle Max still ruled him from the shadows.
Maximinus doesn’t look up from his letter, continuing to write. He doesn’t even acknowledge that I’m in the study.
I take a deep breath and wait patiently.
Finally, he finishes his paragraph, blows on the paper, then sets it aside with a satisfied smile.
“There, all done. I wouldn’t want to make a mess of my hard work. Now,” Maximinus lifts his hard amber eyes to meet mine, “why have you rushed in here looking like such a wreck?”
Instinctively, I reach to check my hair again. Did I miss something? Are my eyes becoming molten?
Maximinus stands, stepping around the desk.
He gives me a solicitous smile. “What’s wrong, my boy?”
Wrongfooted, I blink. “I need to talk to you about?—”
Unexpectedly, Maximinus backhands me.
Hard.
Taken by surprise, I cry out, falling across the desk.
I quickly bite back any further sounds, staring in dismay at the way that blood from my bleeding nose has dripped onto Maximinus’ carefully written letter like the King’s seal.
I’m chilled.
I’ll pay for that.
“Look what you did.” Maximinus points at the stained paper.
“I apologize, Uncle.”
