Page 44 of Cursed with the Dragon Prince
Gaze distant, he looks at the wall behind me. “Father dragged her from the dinner table, thrusting her upon the throne.” After a swallow he continues, “Scorpia fought for her lover, and obeying my father, I fought Scorpia.”
I fill in the blanks. “You were consumed by the rush?”
“Yes. And in such a rage, I clawed her arm, scarring her. I might have done more if the clan hadn’t intervened.” His face flickers from rage to fear, lost in the memory. I set a hand over his, but he pulls away. “As for Alinae, she died during her forced throne’s rite, her body consumed by the throne.”
Swallowing, I could almost imagine it was me, forced upon the throne. I’m already scared by this rite, and to face it without the dignity of choice…
He bangs a fist on the table. “It shouldn’t have happened that way. She should have been prepared—the clan could have supported her progression with a vigil. In the rush, none of the usual precautions were taken, and it was not Alinae’s weakness that killed her—it was mine.”
“And your father’s,” I remind him. “You were a youth—”
“What does it matter?” he snaps. “I still did it. If I had joined forces with Scorpia, and together, we had faced my father… maybe everything would have been different. The clan has not forgiven me.”
I’ve seen it, how they blame him. Everyone except Kaliyah. He says his mother left soon after, but… “What happened to your father?”
“In Wisp’s anger, the isle bound him to her throne, pinning him with magma ropes. Like my grandfather, like Alinae, he was absorbed.”
For a time, we’re silent again. It’s a tragic history, a single event that left behind a grieving lover, a conflicted princeling, and a disenchanted clan.
Surprisingly, it’s Drakon who speaks next. “Despite your return today, I do not assume you’ll attempt the throne’s rite. Especially with everything you’ve learned. I will not coerce you. I’m not…”
“You’re not your father,” I finish the sentence for him.
“Are you sure?” he asks, eyes wide. It’s the question that has haunted him his entire life. When he continues, he rushes the words, speaking doubts he has held for decades. “Because Ihavethe rush. Ichasedyou when you first arrived, terrifying you, driving you down that cave.”
“I understand, but… I trust you.”
He laughs. His eyes glint, and I catch the hint of red. “Are you sure it’s safe to trust me? I would not advise it. My father and grandfather made desperate decisions that cost lives. How can I be different from them?”
His muscles tense. Honestly, part of meisscared of him, my chest tightening. It’s disconcerting, watching him shift from broody silence to anger, like a switch.
Maybe he is like his fathers before. Maybe Scorpia is right. He’s quiet because he doesn’t trust himself to speak. Broody because he doesn’t know a better way.
The red in his eyes grows.
“You should go,” he growls.
I will go, I decide, but playing with fire, I linger for a few moments more. I rise from the bench and lift my hands, signaling peace. “Hear me out. Please, Drakon. You’ve proven you’re different.”
He huffs, his body tensing. He doubts me.
My heart races. I care about him, believing he’s better than he thinks he is, but this is the rage. I need to be cautious.
Except… hecan’thurt me.
“That’s why you gave me an oath of protection,” I realize. “The moment Kaliyah put you in charge of my care.”
He grunts. “I would rather die at Wisp’s hand than hurt you.” Suddenly, his oath has a new gravity, given to me because he doesn’t trust himself.
I take a step closer to him, meeting his eyes, red fully rimming his hazel coloring. “And that’s it,” I say. “That’s why you’re different from your father and grandfather. You might have this rush, but you don’twantto hurt anyone.”
He snarls, eager to move past me and flee. The space between us shrinks, and heat—unnatural dragon heat—radiates from his chest.
I step closer, blocking his way.
“What are you doing?” he shouts. “Let me leave. This will only put both of us in harm’s way.”
His nostrils are flaring, but I don’t think it’s with anger.
