Page 48 of Courting the Dragon Prince
He tried not to be angry with his mother. He tried not to be hurt. She was lost in her grief.
But Onyx was grieving too. He’d lost his older sister. He lost Tourmaline. Shouldn’t this be a time for him and his mother to rely on each other?
His vision grew blurry. He walked to a window that overlooked a garden. He didn’t want to pass anyone who might see the obvious misery etched onto his face.
Onyx forced himself to take deep, steadying breaths. The trees in the garden below blew in the breeze. His gaze turned to the sky. He wished he could see mountain tops. He wished he could gaze upon their magnificent forms and find some peace and strength in their beauty.
He closed his eyes and imagined the Mystic Mountain Temple, where he’d trained with Tourmaline. He pictured his sister on the day they’d both developed their abilities to use their powers. It had been unheard of for two siblings who weren’t twins to develop powers on the same day. But they’d always been close.
At their temple, there’d been a thin, tall tower made of stone. When a trainee used their power for the first time, they were allowed to climb the tower and ring the bell at the top. In his mind’s eye, he could see his sister running up the stairs ahead of him, her trainee robes swirling. They’d reached the top and stared out over the mountain tops and clouds drifting above them.
They’d walked to the bell.
She’d glanced at him and smiled. “Ready, brother?”
“Ready,” he’d said.
Their hands had met as they each grabbed the rope. They’d pulled. The bell had rung.
Onyx blinked back tears. The tower had been reduced to nothing during the war, and his sister was dead.
“I wish you were here today, Tourmaline. I wish I could talk to you and get your advice. You always understood people better than me,” Onyx whispered. “I’m sure you’d know how to talk to Luther.”
Onyx took a deep breath. “I will try and live up to your memory. I will try and do my best for the Grey Mountains. I will never be as great a ruler as you could have been, but I will try.”
Onyx would do what his mother did not seem to be able to do. He would fulfil his obligations. He would focus on what the kingdom required of him.
For the glory of the Grey Mountains.
Below in the garden, a necromancer stepped out. Onyx recognised Shadow Prince Wraith Grimm of Necros. Tall and lean with smooth, perfect pale skin and hair of midnight black, Shadow Prince Wraith had a fragile, deathlike beauty. He wore black robes lined with purple over a shirt of lace.
A hellhound, whose form appeared to be half-fixed, half-smoke, darted out, following at the shadow prince’s heels.
Onyx couldn’t help but take a step back. He’d never liked the necromancers. Never liked what they could do. Seeing the dead rise to fight had always repulsed Onyx. Even if those armies of skeletons and rotting corpses fought on their side, he still despised it.
The fact that the necromancers tended to keep how their magic worked a secret did not assist with building trust between them and the other kingdoms.
What even was a hellhound? The beast circled the shadow prince’s ankles.
He’d met Shadow Prince Wraith a handful of times. But Onyx usually kept his distance. He kept his distance from all the necromancers.
Suppressing a shiver, Onyx continued to walk through the White Monastery, taking turns and not paying attention to where he went. He just walked and walked.
Warrior monks standing guard nodded as he passed. Absently, he nodded in return. He wandered through a long passage. Then another. He took turns and let his feet lead him. For what felt like hours, he walked.
He lost himself to his thoughts and to his fate.
Finally, he looked around. He realised he’d never been in this part of the monastery before. He kept walking.
In a room he passed, he saw several monks bent over large tomes. They did not glance up at him. The sounds of chanting echoed down the corridors. He assumed the chanting was in Lorentath, an ancient language used only by the monks, which they learned when they joined the monastery.
Onyx entered a large hall. The walls had been painted white. Large windows ran along the walls. Rows of wooden pews faced where the grand monk stood.
The grand monk stood before him. “Warden Onyx.”
“Oh. I apologise for disturbing you, Grand Monk,” Onyx said. “I was just blindly wandering the monastery.”
“And you wandered to the lower monastery?” The grand monk raised his brows and smiled.
