Page 68 of The Dragonrider and the Void
A thin smile crossed the King’s face as he gestured dismissively. One of the Paragons brought forward a chair, placing it a few feet from where Lark sat bound and leaning against the wall. The King settled into the cushioned chair confidently, clearly trying to project his control of the situation.
“You’ll find these quarters significantly more comfortable than the alternatives.” He gestured to the runes carved into the walls. “These chambers were designed by the Keep’s riders, but we made a few alterations with my newfound abilities.”
“I recognize it,” Lark replied, testing how much he knew. “Dragonrider runes combined with fae symbols. Suppressant wards similar to the ancients I’ve seen before.”
Surprise flickered across the King’s face, quickly masked. “You are more knowledgeable than your brutal reputation suggests. Though I suppose that shouldn’t be surprising, given your unusual bond with both dragon and fae.” He leaned forward slightly, studying her with unsettling intensity. “That’s why I’ve kept you alive, you know. Your unique connections make you exotic. Most of those to intrude upon my private chambers would have been executed immediately, especially a formidable rider from Nordraven.”
Lark held his gaze. “Lucky me.”
“Indeed.” The King’s fingers tapped a nervous rhythm against his knee that was at odds with his otherwise controlled demeanor. Suddenly, the King twisted to face his Paragons, giving them a direct order. “I need to be alone with the prisoner, leave us.”
“Majesty, that is not recommended,” the brismil-clad rider said.
“She is restrained. I won’t give the order again,” he replied.
The elf mage passed a hesitant look to the brismil-plated rider before reluctantly obeying their King and exiting the chamber.
Once the King’s escorts were gone, King Agadorn returned his focus to Lark. “You should know that your half-elven friend will not succeed in whatever he hopes to accomplish. My Paragons will find him, and the pages he stole.”
Hope surged through Lark at this confirmation that Venrick had escaped, but she kept her expression neutral. “If you’re so confident, why bother telling me?”
“Because I want you to understand your position.” The King’s voice hardened. “Cooperation now could spare you considerable pain. The Void Drinker is interested in your abilities, but its patience is limited.”
As he spoke, something strange happened. For just a moment, the King’s eyes cleared completely. The silver starlight vanished to reveal bright blue eyes. His voice dropped to a whisper. His face trembled as if he were straining with a great effort.
“Listen to me, Ella. You don’t understand what’s coming. Nordraven and Lamar don’t stand a chance. Barrik thinks he found the key to controlling the Void Drinker. He believes what he’s forcing your cousin, King Greggor to do will save your people, but he doesn’t understand what the rimeshade will be able to do once the Void Drinker uses the Realmstone. The finalpiece to the puzzle is when the Flashover,” he choked, shaking more violently. “The Flashover will?—”
Then, as suddenly as the odd change in behavior appeared, the moment passed. Agadorn stopped trembling. The starlight returned to his eyes, and his posture straightened. When he spoke again, his voice carried that controlled confidence as before. He looked around as though he’d missed something, then focused on Lark.
“The Flashover will change everything,” he continued smoothly. “A new era for Sataran. Those who serve willingly will find their place elevated.”
Lark saw her opening. “And those who are being controlled against their will? What place do they have?”
The King’s expression hardened. “A temporary inconvenience. Necessary guidance for limited minds.”
“Is that what you and the Kings of Nordraven have agreed to?” Lark asked, taking a calculated risk. “Do you know how much ‘guidance’ you’re receiving?”
A flash of genuine anger crossed the King’s face. “The Kings of Elderice and Fjern will be buried under their ignorance. Barrik understands his role to keep Skol and Wintermire in line.”
“Does he? I’ve known Barrik longer than you have, Your Majesty. My mentor doesn’t play supporting roles in anyone’s story but his own.”
The King rose suddenly, looming over her. “You think you understand the forces at play here, dragonrider, but you are a child stumbling through shadows. The Void Drinker has existed since before dragons first soared through Sataran skies. It has watched empires rise and fall. And now, it will reshape this world as it was always meant to be.”
He turned to leave, then paused at the door. “Rest while you can. Tomorrow, we begin determining exactly how your unique bonds function. The process will not be pleasant if you resist.”
He knocked three times against the door. It opened to the Paragons who each had hands on their weapons until they’d seen that Lark was still bound and seated. As the door closed behind King Agadorn and the locks engaged once more. Lark released a shaky breath. The meeting had answered several questions. Primarily, Venrick had succeeded in escaping with the ritual. She also gleaned that the King was not completely subsumed by the Void Drinker, at least not yet. His breakdown when he tried to clue her into the bigger picture directly opposed what the Void Drinker wanted him to convey. And perhaps most importantly, there was something about Barrik’s involvement that made the King uncomfortable.
Information was power, even here in this gilded cage. Lark intended to gather as much as she could before whatever came next.
She closed her eyes again, reaching tentatively for her bonds. Though the wards suppressed her connections, they couldn’t sever them completely. Somewhere out there, White Eye was searching for her. Venrick was alive, carrying crucial information. And whatever the King and the Void Drinker had planned, they hadn’t won yet.
I just need to stay alive long enough for them to find me.
But as she studied the runes carved into the walls around her, another thought formed.
Or long enough to find my own way out.
Hours passed in oppressive silence. The slits of daylight moved across the floor, gradually dimming as evening approached. Twice, guards brought simple food, a bowl of broth and hard bread, but they didn’t speak, and Lark didn’t waste energy trying to engage them.
