The Council chamber was utterly silent after the announcement of Emmett’s declaration of war. No one dared to speak, let alone move, as their gazes went between Rhett and Julian. The lords hesitated, waiting to gauge the dragons’ reactions before voicing their opinions. The last thing they wanted was to make a bad impression in front of their new king.

  However, a sudden exhale from Julian startled the men. His fingers gripped onto the parchment Rhett had thrown at him moments before, crumpling it in the process. He didn’t look up, but instead read the page again and again, as if searching for some hidden meaning or clue that could change things.

  Then, finally, he spoke.

  “Leave us.”

  The lords hesitated. None wanted to lose their chance to advise the new king, especially on such a crucial matter, but when Julian lifted his head, revealing his red eyes, they started to regret not leaving instantly.

  “Now!”

  Chairs scraped against the floor as the council members scrambled to their feet, bowing hurriedly or offering rushed goodbyes as they left. The moment they were alone, Rhett shot up from his chair so forcefully that it nearly toppled backward. His hands curled into fists at his sides as his body trembled in anger.

  “I don’t want this!” He growled, pacing the length of the table like a caged beast. “I never wanted to be king! And now I’m supposed to go to war against my own brother?”

  Julian remained silent, furrowing his brows as he studied the words on the parchment yet again.

  “This is her fault,” Rhett spat. “Amara gave me this cursed ring against my will. I told her—over and over—I didn’t want it. But no, she had to listen to a witch.”

  He stopped abruptly, slamming his hands against the table with enough force to rattle the quills and goblets resting on it. The impact finally drew Julian’s attention away from the paper.

  “Wasn’t I supposed to help Sylvaris prosper?!” The young king demanded as steam rose up from his shoulders. “Isn’t that what the witch said? That I was meant to bring peace and happiness to this kingdom? How is this prosperous?! How is fighting in a war against my own brother good for Sylvaris? Amara ruined everything we had, and for what? For this? Am I supposed to kill Emmett in the name of peace? Because I won’t do it!”

  Rhett’s breathing grew heavy as he reached up, grabbing the ring on his left hand. He gritted his teeth and pulled at the band desperately. But it wouldn’t budge. Just as before, it was stuck to his finger due to Silas holding it in place with dragon scales. Rhett’s jaw tightened, and his vision blurred with tears. He wanted to rip it off, to throw it across the room, and reduce it to liquid gold with his flames. But he couldn’t.

  With a frustrated yell, he grabbed a silver goblet from the table and hurled it against a wall. The metal bent on impact, crashing to the floor with a loud clatter. The young king’s shoulders trembled as hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

  “Why?!” He demanded in a hoarse voice. “Why do I have to be king? I never wanted this… I never wanted to fight Emmett… I can’t…”

  “Then don’t,” Julian said as he finally spoke up. “Just because Emmett declares war doesn’t mean you have to answer the call.”

  “Then what do you suppose I do?” Rhett questioned as his frown deepened. “Hand him the ring? I would if I could take it off!”

  Julian exhaled loudly, rubbing his temple with both hands.

  “You and I both know Emmett isn’t healthy enough to rule,” he countered with a scowl. “Which is the most baffling part of this entire situation. He isn’t in his right mind on a good day, so what makes him think he can sit on the throne?”

  Rhett dragged a hand over his face, knowing his father was right. Emmett hadn’t been well for nearly an entire year. And for the last few months, things only worsened as his mind slipped further and further away. The younger brother that Rhett loved, the boy who grew up clinging to him, was seemingly gone. And in his place stood a man who was no longer recognizable.

  Rhett’s fingers curled into fists as uneasiness crept into his chest. Emmett being sick was something they always saw as normal, but now, as the new king thought back on the last year, something didn’t add up.

  Emmett had always been cold, as if his body couldn’t handle Blaise. Frost dragons were a mutation, and it had seemed that the youngest prince was cursed with a body that was too weak to handle it. But lately… lately Emmett wasn’t cold. He would sweat through his tunics and his face would be flushed. It was almost as if he were constantly fighting a low fever, but this had lasted for months.

  And Blaise… the dragon had been dormant for a long, long time. Rhett swallowed hard as a knot formed in his stomach. Even if subdued by magic, bits of a dragon’s power would still linger near the surface. But for Emmett, it was almost as if his connection to Blaise had simply…vanished…

  What sickness could do this?

  What if it was someone who did it? Silas growled in the back of Rhett’s mind.

  The young king held his breath as a cold shiver trickled down his spine. His mind raced through the possibilities, but none of them fit. Emmett had always been weak. So, who would gain from not only weakening him further but also from him dying while on the throne? His fingers curled against the table as a single name came to mind.

  “Cerys…” Rhett murmured under his breath.

  “What?” Julian inquired as he furrowed his brows.

  “It was Cerys,” Rhett repeated, his mind racing to piece everything together. “If Emmett took the throne and then died… it would benefit Cerys. And Drurus. They must be the ones who made him sick!”

  “Son… I need you to think about this clearly,” Julian warned, standing from his chair. “Why would Cerys make Emmett sick—sicker than he already was? She loves him. Could you not see that?”

  Rhett’s jaw clenched as he nodded slightly. Yes, Cerys had always been close to Emmett, even as kids. But something about it didn’t add up in the king’s mind.

  “He started changing after Cerys was here last year,” he continued, tapping his fingers against the table. “And… Kohen. He stopped coming around Tristan and me. Instead, he started guarding Emmett as if he were his shadow.”

  Julian remained silent, listening as the pieces seemingly fell into place the more Rhett spoke.

  “A-a-and wasn’t it Henrik who suggested Emmett leave the progress early? And Henrik was the one who told us Emmett would be returning to Jux during the rest month. But what if—what if that was never Emmett’s decision at all?”

  Rhett’s pulse thundered in his ears as the realization settled like a fog in his mind. They had done this to Emmett—made him sick and turned him against his family. The young king suddenly pushed back from the table, trembling as Silas clawed to be released. They had wasted far too much time already while their brother was out there, sick and surrounded by people who had done this to him.

  “I’m going to Drurus,” Rhett declared as he stormed to the door. “I’ll confront them myself and bring Emmett home.”

  “No, you won’t,” Julian interjected as he hurried after his son.

  “Do you expect me to sit here while my brother stays with the people who are killing him?!” Rhett shouted as he turned to face his father.

  “I expect you to act like a king,” Julian countered with a hard stare. “You can’t just fly into another kingdom unannounced, not when Emmett has already declared war. Not when you look like a man ready for a fight.”

  “I am ready for a fight!” Rhett snapped.

  “And for all we know, so is Drurus,” Julian shot back. “If what you say is true, that they are the ones responsible for Emmett being sick, then they have had a year to plan this while we have had minutes. For all you know, they could have an army waiting on the other side of the border, and you flying over there would mean war.”

  “So what do we do then?” Rhett growled as he clenched his fists. “Sit here and do nothing while he dies?”

  “No…” Julian said firmly before releasing a heavy sigh. “I will go.”

  “But isn’t that the same thing as me going?” Rhett questioned with a frown.

  “I’m no longer king,” Julian explained. “I’m not the threat you would be if you showed up at Dunstead. Arnav, Kendra, and I have a decent relationship, and perhaps I could talk to them without provoking a fight.”

  “I don’t think—”

  Julian suddenly stepped forward and placed his hands on either side of Rhett’s face, forcing his son to meet his gaze.

  “Let me do this… Let me make this right… I know I haven’t done anything to deserve the title of father, but let me go get Emmett and bring him home.”

  Rhett’s throat tightened as he took in a shaky breath. It felt like everything was crumbling around him, and he could do nothing to stop it. Julian was right—it wasn’t worth the risk for Rhett to fly to Drurus. So, with a reluctant nod, he agreed to his father’s suggestion.

  Julian gave Rhett’s face one last squeeze before stepping back.

  “I’ll bring him home,” he promised. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out the door.

  Once outside the palace, Julian walked through the snowy gardens to one of the many fields. His hands trembled slightly as he stripped away his clothes, handing them to a nearby servant. Though others stood nearby, curiously watching, Julian was oblivious to their presence. His mind was too preoccupied with Emmett, with Rhett, with the war he feared was coming.

  With closed eyes, he took in a deep breath before letting it out, sending a ripple through the air. His body shifted, reshaping his bones and turning his skin into smooth, black scales. Large wings grew from his back, revealing the reddish shade underneath as he stretched them. Dark gold scales formed along his belly, going from the bottom of his chin down to the tip of his tail.

  When the dragon had taken shape, Draven launched himself into the sky. The ground beneath him shook as he went upward, and with one flap of his wings, he cleared the top of the palace. It didn’t take long before he was flying over the Nocktal Mountains, leaving behind the city of Casshire.

  For several hours, they flew west, with neither Julian nor Draven speaking. Both were so focused on getting to Drurus that they nearly missed the plumes of smoke rising into the sky. The dragon went lower to the ground, giving him and Julian a better view of the city below. It was Jux, Emmett’s dukedom. Scattered across the ground were fires—some smoldering while others appeared freshly lit. It looked as if the city had been in a fight, and on the outskirts, a line of tents and soldiers created a perimeter around Jux.

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  It’s under siege, Draven rumbled through their shared mind.

  Julian’s stomach twisted, and his heart began to race. He couldn’t see the banners the soldiers marched under from this height, but it hardly mattered. The message was clear whether it was Drurus or another kingdom—the war had started.

  They made their move before we even had a chance to decide what to do, Julian hissed through gritted teeth.

  We should return and warn Rhett, Draven stated, shifting his wings as if preparing to turn back.

  Julian, though, was hesitant. Every part of him knew that this was critical information, that Rhett needed to know what was happening within their borders. But then, an image of Emmett flashed through his mind.

  No… he finally replied. We keep going.

  Draven was silent for a while before letting out a quiet rumble.

  This is foolish…

  Julian didn’t argue. His dragon was right; it was foolish not to warn Rhett. But he couldn’t leave Emmett in Drurus, not when it was becoming clearer by the second that Drurus was responsible for his sickness. If the two of them didn’t save him now, there was a chance that Arnav or Cerys would kill Emmett—if they hadn’t already.

  Without another word, Draven adjusted his wings and continued pushing west. It wasn’t long before they soared over the border, but the entire time, the dragon’s eyes were scanning the ground below. Sure enough, just a few miles into Drurus, he spotted camps full of soldiers. Many were hidden within dense forests, keeping their fires low. However, Draven could see the movement of the men and the shine of their metal armor.

  They’re waiting, the dragon stated with a low, guttural growl. Still think it’s best to continue onward?

  I will not leave Emmett to die by those people! Julian shouted angrily. How can you be so heartless?

  Do you think I like these choices?! Draven hissed. Emmett and Blaise are our flesh and blood… but if we do not warn Rhett of what is happening, more than one person will die!

  Julian cursed under his breath. Thousands of men stood near the border of Sylvaris, putting the lives of their people at risk. Was he really willing to risk the life of one person over them? The former king had been called selfish all his life, putting his wants and needs before others—including his family. But was he willing to put his son above those who relied on the crown for safety?

  Fly faster, Julian ordered. We need to get to Dunstead, get Emmett, and leave.

  What if he fights us on it? Draven questioned.

  Then you take him kicking and screaming, and we fly straight out of this kingdom. With any luck, we will be back in Casshire by tomorrow night…

  With a reluctant nod, Draven’s wings beat harder as he moved higher into the sky, disappearing beyond the clouds.

  By late afternoon, the weather had turned against them, slowing down the dragon. Lightning stretched across the sky, illuminating the darkness, followed by the crack of thunder. Freezing winds pushed against them, but Draven barely felt the chill. Heat radiated from his chest, warding off the cold.

  With the dark clouds, they had to fly just below the storm to see the ground, but as the hours passed and it became night, it was nearly impossible to see. Draven had to go lower and lower, relying on the light of torches and fires to see where he was going. Then, after thinking they had gotten lost, the dragon finally spotted it—Dunstead.

  The capital of Drurus stretched out below him, while on the very edge of the city, built into the side of the Blackened Mountain, stood the royal palace. Draven circled high above, stretching his wings so he could glide silently. They needed a way inside, an opening—anything—to allow them to get to Emmett without drawing too much attention.

  However, on his second pass around, torches were suddenly lit throughout the front courtyard. Draven narrowed his eyes as he saw a man step outside.

  Arnav…

  The King of Drurus stepped out into the rain with his hands clasped behind his back. The man appeared calm as he stood there, waiting for them. Draven’s claws twitched as he held back a growl. Arnav had anticipated their arrival.

  He circled again, scanning every shadow and sniffing the air, searching for any trace of another dragon. But he found nothing. No sign of another shifter. No sign of a trap. And yet… it felt wrong.

  This was a mistake, Draven murmured.

  We had no other choice, Julian whispered back. If we had turned back, we would have lost our only chance to get Emmett.

  Draven didn’t respond as he flew against the storm, reluctant to land. Then—against his better judgment—he descended. His massive body landed in the palace courtyard, splashing water around him. As his wings folded against his back, the dragon’s glowing red eyes locked onto Arnav. After taking a deep breath, he shifted. His body shrank, scales dissolving into flesh, with wings and claws retracting. And when it was done, Julian stood barefoot and naked, staring at the King of Drurus.

  “Julian,” Arnav greeted with a slight dip of his head. “It’s been a while.”

  “So it has,” Julian replied as he glanced around the courtyard. The heavy rain made it difficult to see anything beyond the guards stationed along the walls. But still, there was no sign of Kendra or Cerys.

  “Nervous?” Arnav chuckled.

  Julian scoffed, shifting his weight as water dripped from his dark hair down his naked body.

  “Well, when someone meets me in the rain without so much as offering me any clothing, I can’t help but be on edge.”

  It wasn’t as if the cold bothered him—Draven’s fire kept him warm from the inside out—but the longer they stood there, the more certain he became that this was a trap.

  “And when someone arrives unannounced at my doorstep, I tend to be wary of their intentions,” Arnav retorted as his smile widened.

  “I’ve come for my son,” Julian stated as he stepped forward.

  “Your son?” Arnav hummed, tapping a finger against his chin. “Do you mean Emmett?”

  “Yes,” Julian growled as steam rose from his shoulders. “I mean Emmett. Now, where is he? I am taking him home.”

  “As if the prince would let you do that,” Arnav shook his head. “Last I heard, he wanted nothing to do with you, Rhett… or those bastard children the peasant girl is carrying.”

  “Emmett is only saying those things because you’re poisoning his mind!” Julian shouted.

  “Ah, so you’ve figured it out.” Arnav stepped forward, closing the space between them until only ten feet remained. “Tell me, Julian—was it when you flew over Jux? Or when you crossed into Drurus? Did you come straight here, or did you warn Rhett of what my army was doing?”

  Julian clenched his jaw, refusing to answer. The King of Drurus chuckled, running a hand over his bald head to wipe off the water. Around them, more torches were lit, causing Julian to tense up.

  “I see,” Arnav murmured, tilting his head slightly.

  Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the sky for a brief moment. And in that instant, Julian saw them—two dragons coming down from the clouds.

  “So, now I’m curious,” Arnav mused as he took several steps back. “Did you expect to go home tonight?”

  A growl rumbled through Julian’s throat as he attempted to shift, but the moment he moved, a powerful gust of wind slammed into him, knocking him off balance. He staggered, bracing against the wet stones as a white dragon descended with a deafening roar. Kendra…

  With a snap of her wings, another gust went out, slicing against his bare chest like a blade. Julian hissed as Draven reacted, creating protective scales just as lava rained down from above. Julian barely dodged in time, sliding across the wet ground to avoid the molten rock.

  You can shift any day now! Julian growled inwardly, panting as he pushed himself to his feet. Don’t worry about my wounds! We can heal later.

  After dodging another burst of wind from Kendra, Julian sprinted toward an alcove, desperate to put space between him and the other dragons. He needed a second to shift, and at the rate the two she-dragons were coming at him, he couldn’t afford to stay in his human form any longer. With a deep breath, his body shuddered and heat rippled beneath his skin as he finally transformed.

  In an instant, Julian was gone, replaced by Draven. But something was wrong. The dragon swung his tail, easily shattering sections of the palace’s outer walls. However, the area around him remained too tight to move around properly. When he tried to extend his wings, the tips scraped uselessly against the stone walls.

  This was a trap… They pushed him into this space to corner him.

  Draven pressed his shoulders against the walls, straining as he attempted to force it to collapse. But the palace had been built directly into the mountain. No matter how much power he used, the walls refused to budge.

  Above him, a faint rumble caught his attention. Tiny pebbles tumbled down from the ceiling, scattering across his scales like raindrops.

  The roof! Julian shouted, but the stone above them gave way before Draven could react.

  Draven roared in pain as boulders and shattered stone collapsed on top of him, pinning him down to the ground. He tried to move around to free himself, but before he could get far, Cerys dropped down from above, landing on the larger dragon’s back. With a snarl, she scratched at any exposed spot she could find, digging her talons into his scales. Draven let out a furious growl, but there was only so much he could do in the confined space. It didn’t matter how big or strong he was, with him essentially being buried beneath a mountain, his strength was effectively useless.

  Pain radiated across his side as Cerys dug her claws deep, ripping out chunks of scales. He needed a way out, and now.

  In a desperate gamble, Draven partially shifted back into Julian. His body shrank in an instant, causing the stones that had trapped him to come crashing down to the ground. Before Cerys could react, he shifted back into his dragon form, catching her off guard.

  Taking advantage of the situation, Draven twisted and slammed her against the wall, pinning her beneath his larger body. Cerys screeched, thrashing wildly, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he pressed harder, squeezing the air from her lungs.

  On the other side of Draven, Kendra’s wings clapped together, creating gusts of wind that slammed into the wall separating her from the other two dragons. The force of each strike sent cracks across the rock, splintering the stone. She was trying to get his attention away from Cerys and onto her, but in doing so, she unknowingly provided him with what he needed.

  Draven could hear the groan from the wall before it collapsed, giving him an opening to the courtyard. Without hesitation, he shoved himself away from Cerys, pushing through the weakened stone and out into the wide open space. His wings finally stretched as he prepared to take flight. But the moment he pushed off the ground, searing pain shot through his right wing.

  The dragon let out a roar as he suddenly started to tilt mid-air. His claws scraped violently against the ground as he skidded forward, barely managing to keep himself upright. Gritting his teeth, he snapped his head to the side, searching for the cause of the pain. As his gaze settled on the underside of his wing, he saw the charred holes along the membrane from where lava had gone through.

  Before he could fully process the extent of the damage, another shot of pain went through his left wing. Draven let out a snarl as he felt the heat eating away at his wings—and his ability to fly.

  Kendra took advantage of the giant dragon being grounded. She propelled herself forward, using a powerful burst of wind to make her faster. The force of her slamming into Draven sent him across the courtyard, crashing against the ground before colliding with a wall. Draven groaned, trying to focus his blurry vision. He could feel the exhaustion settling deep in his body as he struggled to maintain control. And then—against his will—his form began to shift.

  A dragon’s natural instinct was survival, and when critically wounded, the body sought refuge in its human form. Draven had no control as the transformation took over. In the blink of an eye, Julian was left in the dragon’s place—naked, bloodied, and on his knees. Every muscle in his body ached. He could feel the warm trickle of blood down his skin as he tried to push himself up. But he was too weak to stand, shift back, or fight.

  Julian clenched his jaw, fully expecting Kendra or Cerys to attack him while he was vulnerable, but the attack never came. Instead, the two dragons stepped back as Arnav approached.

  “My, my,” the king mused as he walked over to Julian. “I had expected a much better show from you. You were once known as a fierce warrior—what happened to you?”

  Julian ignored him, focusing instead on his legs as he attempted to push himself off the ground. However, it was useless. His knees buckled beneath him, sending him down onto the wet ground. Arnav chuckled softly, crouching down so that he was closer.

  “You know what I think?” He tilted his head, studying Julian. “I think the stories about you were all exaggerated. People assumed you were strong simply because of your Viriou blood.”

  He reached forward, gripping Julian’s jaw and forcing his head up.

  “But what they failed to understand is that just because you come from a line of giants, doesn’t mean you’re a good fighter. It doesn’t mean you’re a good strategist. It only means you rule through fear, and fear alone. All you needed to do was shift, and people would cower at your size. When in reality, you’re just weak. A weak old man with a weak dragon.”

  Julian pulled his head away from Arnav’s grasp, and despite the pain across his body, he let out a bitter laugh.

  “If I’m weak, then what does that make you?” He spat blood on the ground between them before glaring up at Arnav. “You didn’t even fight me. Instead, you had your women corner me just to gain the upper hand.”

  “Cerys and Kendra didn’t need to do a thing,” Arnav smirked as he rose to his feet, adjusting his cloak before resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. “You were a fool for coming here. You saw my army at your borders, and like a moth to a flame, you came flying straight into the trap. You handed yourself to me on a silver platter.”

  Arnav exhaled loudly, almost as if he pitied him. Then, he unsheathed his sword slowly before stepping beside Julian. He pressed the edge of the blade against the back of his neck, holding it there for a minute.

  “This is the part where one usually asks for last words,” Arnav mused as he shifted his grip on the sword. “But I see no reason to waste time on pleasantries.”

  With a single, quick stroke, he swung the blade. The sword sliced cleanly through flesh and bone, severing Julian’s head from his body. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the courtyard. Arnav flicked the blood off his blade before turning to Cerys. With the tip of his boot, he nudged the severed head toward her.

  “Take this to Sylvaris,” he ordered, sheathing his sword. “Let Rhett receive his father’s head as a gift for being named king.”