Page 122 of Courting the Dragon Prince
He took a deep breath. He took another deep breath.
Onyx reached out. Stones about the size of a fist lay around the stone meditation slab. He lifted them into the air, trying to find his centre, his control. He needed to clear his mind.
But Tourmaline on the mountain flashed before his eyes. Her battle cry echoed in his ears, “For the glory of the Grey Mountains!” Then it morphed into a scream as fire blazed around her.
With a roar, Onyx jerked his arm. He flung one of the rocks at a window. The glass crashed. One after another, he hurled the rocks. The glass shattering mixed with his yells of fury and grief.
Shards of glass covered the floor. He leaned forward, breathing heavily, eyes closed.
I suppose this is what marrying one’s enemy truly means.
He hadn’t considered this a possibility. Which seemed so fucking stupid right now.
Onyx should have realised that something like this could have happened. That his and Luther’s war stories could have intertwined.
Could Onyx get past this? Just a short time ago, he’d thought he was falling in love with Luther. Now he struggled to see how they could salvage any sort of marriage.
But they had to. For the treaty. For peace.
But how? He couldn’t see a path.
Onyx didn’t know what to do with this reminder that they were true enemies. This reminder that Luther was a dragon who’d tried to kill and destroy everyone and everything Onyx loved and held dear.
“Are you finished, Nephew?” a voice said.
Onyx sat up, eyes snapping open.
His uncle, Warden Flint, stood staring at him, expression blank.
ChapterFifty-Five
Onyx rose to his feet, wiping his face.
“I knocked.” Warden Flint clasped his hands behind his back as he stood in the middle of the room.
How long has my uncle been here? How long has he been watching me lose my mind?
“But I doubt you heard me over the shattering of your windows.” His uncle studied them. Only a few shards of glass remained in the frames.
“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Onyx said, trying to ignore the glass that scattered across the floor and on the furniture of his room.
He was surprised none of it had hit him. Then again, maybe some had and he’d just not noticed. He glanced down at his hands, covered in blood from Lady Larimar’s stones.
A heavy silence followed.
Eventually, his uncle spoke, “Care to explain what I just witnessed?”
“He was there.” Onyx swallowed. “Luther was there the day Tourmaline died. Luther was part of the dragon attack on the Mystic Mountain Temple.”
His uncle frowned.
“He wasn’t there when she died. But he took part in destroying the temple. He—” Onyx’s throat closed as the grief and rage rolled through him.
“I see.” His uncle studied him. “How unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate?” Onyx spat. “It’s more than unfortunate!”
Warden Flint raised his brows. “But is that truly so shocking? After all, we were at war with one another. We were enemies. What did you expect would happen when we made peace with the dragons?”
