Silas beat his wings rapidly through the air, feeling exhausted from flying for nearly a full day without rest. The world beneath him was covered in shadows, and frost had formed on the ends of his tail from the icy night. In his front paws was the chest, with his claws wrapped securely in the rope.

  As the first signs of dawn illuminated the skies, the city of Aston came into view for the dragon. The capital of Vespera lay nestled among sprawling farmlands and forests, broken up by the occasional rolling hill or distant mountain. A river ran through the city, creating an island in the middle of Aston. On this island was the palace, encircled by multiple layers of stone walls and towers. Even at this early hour, the city was coming to life. The lone bridge connecting the palace to the city was already full of people. Merchants wheeled their carts into position, servants hurried to start their morning duties, and hopeful petitioners gathered at the gates, eager for an audience with the emperor’s advisors.

  Silas circled the fortress once, watching as candles and torches were lit within the palace windows. He flew over the outer walls, angling his wings toward the central gardens at the heart of the palace. This space was reserved solely for the royal family and was filled with frozen ponds, frost-covered flower beds, and manicured hedges. Normally, visiting dragons would not be permitted to land here—only those belonging to Mathias and Kenna’s family.

  And now that Rhett was the King of Sylvaris, he shouldn’t have landed here, either. But habit overruled any logical thinking. He had spent years in this palace, raised alongside the princes. Silas knew this place as well as Rhett did, and neither hesitated as he landed in the central gardens. He lowered his front legs carefully, setting the chest onto the ground before stepping back.

  Then, Silas started to shift, with his scales shrinking and wings folding inward until they disappeared. Within moments, Rhett appeared in his place, standing naked on the cold, frozen grounds. His muscles ached, feeling fatigued as he rolled his shoulders, inhaling deeply.

  Ignoring his exhaustion, Rhett made his way toward a small open tent on the edge of the clearing. Inside, there were several wooden chests stacked in rows. Mathias and Kenna each had their own, while the princes shared two large trunks of clothing. Rhett reached for the nearest shirt without a second thought, tugging it over his head. It hung loose on him—not surprising, given how large the men of the imperial family were. The trousers, however, would never fit Rhett. So, he dug through the pile until he found an old pair of his pants buried at the bottom. To his relief, he tugged them on and found that they still fit perfectly.

  Now that he was clothed, Rhett stepped back outside. He went straight to the chest Silas had set down, crouching beside it before carefully lifting it. Without hesitation, he went to the nearest set of doors. He had barely taken three steps inside when an old servant approached him.

  “Your Majesty,” the man greeted with a bow.

  “Lukas,” Rhett acknowledged as he glanced around. “Where are Mathias and Kenna?”

  “The emperor and empress are in their chambers, soon to sit down for breakfast,” Lukas replied, motioning down a corridor to his left. “They are aware of your arrival, Your Majesty, but have requested that you be taken to a room to rest while they prepare for the day. So, if you’d follow me.”

  Rhett’s expression darkened. Rest? He had flown all day and through the night with his father’s severed head in a chest at his feet, and they wanted him to rest?

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said flatly.

  Before Lukas could protest, Rhett was already moving in the other direction. Servants scrambled out of his way, their hurried bows going unnoticed as the king stormed through the corridors and up the stairs. As he neared Mathias and Kenna’s bedchambers, the guards stationed outside shifted uneasily, their hands moving toward their weapons as they braced themselves to stop him. One of them bravely stepped forward.

  “Your Majesty, the emperor and empress have asked not to be disturbed—”

  Rhett growled, and his eyes flashed orange as Silas stirred beneath his sin. The guards hesitated, which was all the young king needed. Without another word, Rhett shoved the doors open, slamming them against the wall as he walked inside.

  The chambers were large and open, with the morning light coming in through the glass balcony doors. The scent of fresh bread and tea filled the air, mingling with the smell of lavender incense that burned in the corner. Kenna, despite being in her fifties, stood by a large mirror looking no older than twenty. Her robe was tied loosely around her, barely covering her warm brown skin while she combed her tight black curls. She turned at the sound of Rhett’s sudden entrance, glancing at him with her bright, violet eyes.

  Meanwhile, Mathias was nowhere to be seen. Kenna didn’t speak but watched as the young man approached the table, setting the chest down beside their food. Instantly, her eyes were on it, furrowing her brows as she noticed an odd aura around the box.

  “We need to talk,” Rhett stated.

  “You have been king for a week!” Mathias growled as he stormed out of the closet, wearing dark blue pants and an unbuttoned dark blue and gold shirt. He grabbed Rhett’s tunic tightly before slamming him back against the wall. “What makes you think you have the right to barge into my home and enter my room uninvited?”

  Though Rhett was tall, Mathias towered over him by several inches. The younger man had to tilt his head to meet the emperor’s glare but didn’t snarl back. Even Silas remained still. They both respected this man too much to fight against him—or Ozai, who lurked just beneath Mathias's skin.

  “I’m going to war with Drurus,” Rhett said firmly. “And I need your help.”

  Mathias growled again, pushing the young man harder against the wall.

  “Why in Eena’s name are you—”

  “Who’s in the chest?” Kenna interrupted.

  Mathias furrowed his brows and glanced over his shoulder at his wife before finally looking down at the chest resting on the table. He had been so focused on Rhett’s intrusion that he hadn’t noticed the scent of blood in the air. The realization caused him to release the young man before turning his gaze back to him.

  Rhett said nothing but instead stepped past Mathias. He reached for the chest with trembling hands, untying the rope. When the knot loosened, he took a slow breath and lifted the lid, revealing Julian’s severed head.

  Kenna gasped, dropping her comb as her hands covered her mouth. Mathias inhaled deeply as his body stiffened. He stepped closer to the table, and before he could stop himself, he reached into the box, touching the cold, lifeless cheek of his old friend. Deep blue scales rippled across his fingers as his dragon stirred.

  “Oh, Julian…” he whispered.

  “This,” Rhett murmured, forcing himself to sound strong despite his voice wanting to crack. “Is why I’m going to war with Drurus.”

  Mathias withdrew his hand, clenching his jaw as he fought to suppress his rage.

  “What happened to him?”

  “He went to Drurus to retrieve Emmett,” Rhett explained before glancing at Kenna. “We think Cerys—or someone else from that cursed place—was making Emmett sick.”

  “What makes you think that?” She frowned, stepping closer. “Did any of the healers confirm poisoning?”

  “No,” Rhett admitted, shaking his head. “But after I was crowned king, Emmett left. Now, suddenly, he’s declaring war against me—with Drurus backing his claim. But Kenna, my brother looks like a walking corpse. He can’t even remember what he ate yesterday, and yet he thinks he can rule? Someone is pulling the strings, making him say those words. And the only person who stands to benefit from his… death…”

  His voice faltered, and his face turned bright red as he tried not to cry. Kenna’s heart ached at the sight. She stepped forward and gently took his hands.

  “Oh, my darling,” she murmured, pulling him toward a chair. “Sit.”

  He obeyed without a word, sinking into the seat. The empress stroked his cheek tenderly, hating how exhausted and broken he looked. After a moment, she lifted her gaze to her husband.

  “Go rouse the boys. Then, get the most up-to-date information on our soldiers, resources—”

  “I’ve got it, little thorn,” Mathias interrupted with a nod, finally taking his gaze away from Julian’s severed head. “I’ve been through this song and dance before. I’ll gather everything and meet the two of you in the council room on the third floor.”

  He stepped toward Rhett and placed a firm hand on the young king’s head. Then, with a quick kiss on Kenna’s forehead, Mathias left the room. The empress watched him go before turning back to Rhett. It had been nearly two years since she last saw him, but he looked as if he aged fifteen years.

  “How’s your bride and the babies?” Kenna inquired gently, hoping that speaking about Amara might lift his spirits.

  To her surprise, as Rhett met her gaze, she saw a flicker of something—a faint purple aura surrounding him. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

  “I don’t want to talk about her,” he growled.

  Lightning flashed in Kenna’s violet eyes as she moved without hesitation, reaching out and capturing his chin between her thin fingers.

  “Do not take that tone with me, young man,” she warned. “I know you are hurting, and I know there is a lot on your shoulders right now, so I will grant you some grace. But you do not growl at me. If you don’t want to talk about Amara, that is your right—but next time, you will voice that like a man, not snarl at me like a wounded animal. Understood?”

  “Yes,” he whispered hoarsely, swallowing hard against the lump forming in his throat.

  Then, as if her words had shattered the dam holding back his emotions, tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over. His shoulders trembled as he choked back sobs. But soon, a broken sound escaped him, causing Kenna to release his chin before wrapping her arms around him instead.

  She bent over, holding him close as he clung to her robe. He tried to speak between his sobs, but the words were too incoherent. Kenna didn’t press him to speak clearly, though. Instead, she simply held him, stroking his hair as she hummed a soft lullaby.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  Several minutes passed before Rhett finally calmed down. Once he did, the empress leaned back slightly, gently cupping his face. Like a mother with her child, she wiped away his remaining tears and smoothed back the unruly strands of his hair.

  “Oh, my sweet, sweet boy,” she murmured. “You have endured more in your twenty-six years than most do in a lifetime. I wish I could take your pain away; truly, I do. If I could carry even a fraction of your burdens, I would do so in a heartbeat.”

  After running her thumbs over his cheeks one last time, Kenna finally released him. With a sigh, she stepped back.

  “Are you ready to head down to the council room, or do you need a few more minutes?”

  Rhett took a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face. Exhaling, he glanced toward the door before turning back to the empress.

  “Just a few more minutes, please,” he finally answered.

  “Alright,” Kenna smiled. “Why don’t you wait here while I get dressed? Afterward, we can go meet the others together.”

  She stepped away, walking across the room toward her dressing chamber. Pushing the door, she found her handmaid, Eileen, already waiting inside. The woman stood near the doorway, arms crossed and one eyebrow arched in curiosity—clearly, she had been listening to the conversation in the next room. Kenna merely shook her head.

  “Don’t ask,” she whispered. “Just help me get dressed.”

  With a knowing nod, Eileen obeyed the empress’s request. She helped Kenna into a long, flowing dark green gown, embroidered with gold patterns along the sleeves and down the front of the dress. Next, Eileen grabbed a gold headpiece—half a crown that looked like lightning bolts twisting around emeralds—and pinned it into Kenna’s black curls.

  Once properly dressed, the empress stepped back into the main bedchamber, pausing when she noticed Rhett had moved from his chair. He stood by the table, staring down at the wooden chest holding his father. With a quiet sigh, she approached, placing a gentle hand against his back.

  “Would you mind if Eileen took him down to the Sanctum of Rest? Our priests can prepare him for burial,” she inquired softly. “We can also gather the necessary offerings for his rites, so you won’t have to worry about it when you return home.”

  “And here I thought you didn’t like my father that much,” he chuckled quietly.

  “I won’t lie to you—I still don’t,” Kenna admitted without hesitation, motioning for Eileen to step forward. “Your father was a cruel man when he was your age. I despised how he treated your mother. It doesn’t matter that things got better in the end or that he stopped hurting her. The fact that he ever laid a hand on Yasmin at all is enough for me to dislike him. Especially after what he did when I found out she was carrying her first child.”

  Rhett exhaled, looking at his father for another moment before finally closing the lid.

  “You can take him,” he murmured before glancing toward Eileen. “Though I wouldn’t recommend that you carry this chest. It’s… sticky on the bottom.”

  Eileen’s expression barely shifted as she gave a polite nod.

  “I shall fetch a guard, Your Majesty. May I have your permission to transfer the Crown Father into something more suitable?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” Rhett replied. “As long as it can close securely for my flight home.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Kenna gave Rhett a light pat on the back before gently steering him toward the door.

  “Come… The others are probably waiting for us.”

  Rhett sighed, running a hand through his hair as they stepped into the corridor.

  “Who’s here?” He inquired, referring to the princes of Vespera.

  “Jesup, Matteo, Ashur, and Noah. Rama and Marius left a few days ago to visit their wives’ families. And, unfortunately, Enki couldn’t come for New Dawn this year,” she sighed, though quickly her mood brightened. “But Mathias and I plan to visit him once spring arrives.”

  As Kenna and Rhett approached the council chamber, the sound of men talking drifted through the heavy wooden doors. The guards stationed outside stepped aside, pulling the doors open with a bow. The moment they were inside, all conversations stopped. Four large men—each built like warriors—turned toward the entrance. Within a heartbeat, Jesup, Matteo, Ashur, and Noah rushed forward.

  Rhett barely had time to brace himself before he was pulled into a crushing embrace. Four sets of powerful arms wrapped around him, pulling him against four solid chests. The force of it nearly knocked the air from his lungs.

  “Gods, brother,” Matteo muttered. “We rushed out of bed as soon as we heard what happened.”

  “We’re truly sorry,” Jesup added, pulling back just far enough to look down at Rhett’s face. “No man should have to lose his father like this.”

  “Thank you,” Rhett murmured shakily.

  Noah ruffled Rhett’s hair from behind.

  “You look like shit, brother,” he remarked in an attempt to lighten the mood. However, the others didn’t find the joke funny, and Ashur elbowed Noah hard enough to make him grunt.

  “Ignore him. He can’t read a room.” then, turning back to Rhett, he placed a hand against his back. “How are you holding up?”

  Rhett swallowed, glancing down for a moment before shaking his head.

  “I… I don’t really know yet.”

  “Come on, boys,” Mathias urged from the head of the table. “We have a lot to discuss. Rhett, can you estimate how many soldiers you can muster?”

  Rhett exhaled, nodding slightly as he pulled away from the princes. He approached the table, where maps and parchment lay scattered. Without a word, he reached for a basket filled with blue wooden pieces—each carved in the shape of a soldier—and began placing them across the map of Sylvaris.

  “Since it’s just after the New Dawn, I can’t say for certain how many men are ready and able to fight,” he explained in a frustrated tone. “We stop training as winter sets in, and the soldiers return to their families until spring. However, with any luck, we can expect four hundred men from Onlon, two hundred from Apathle, three hundred from Ruggeweyn, and possibly another two to three hundred from various other cities and villages.”

  “Bringing your total to eleven hundred… twelve at the most,” Mathias murmured, running a hand over his bare chin as he studied the map.

  “What about Walford and Jux?” Ashur inquired as he pointed to the northwestern portion of the map. “You didn’t place anything there.”

  Rhett sighed and set the blue pieces aside, reaching for the red ones instead. He placed one on Walford, then two on Jux.

  “Reece—the Earl of Walford—left with my brother. I don’t expect Walford’s men to fight for me,” he admitted grimly. “And as for Jux? I have to assume we’ve lost them as well.”

  Matteo leaned back, arms crossed.

  “But if they only have several hundred men, taking those cities back wouldn’t be hard.”

  “That’s assuming they haven’t gathered more men,” Rhett corrected with a shake of his head. “Walford and Jux are the closest cities to Drurus. There’s no telling how many more soldiers Arnav has stationed there. For all I know, those cities could have a thousand soldiers each.”

  He paused, tapping his fingers against the table.

  “And I would prefer not to fight within the cities themselves if I can help it. The last thing I want is unnecessary bloodshed among my people.”

  “This is your kingdom, Rhett,” Mathias nodded as he placed his arms on the table. “What would you prefer to do? What is your ultimate goal?”

  Rhett stared down at the map, curling his hands into fists at his sides. His ultimate goal? The words echoed in his head, and for a brief moment, the image of his brother, sick and dying in bed, flashed through his mind. Along with his father’s severed head being delivered in a wooden chest.

  “I want to get my brother back,” he said at last. “And I want to avenge my father’s death.”

  But then he hesitated. Silas pushed to the surface, filling him with so much fire and rage that Rhett had to shake his head.

  “But I don’t want to go on a rampage and put my people’s lives at risk. They have nothing to do with my vendetta or personal problems. If possible, I’d prefer my army to remain on the defensive, keeping Drurus and its men out while I go to Dunstead and challenge Arnav directly.”

  “You’d be foolish and stupid if you think Arnav would accept a challenge fairly,” Kenna snapped as lightning flashed across her violet eyes. Rhett turned to her, opening his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. “All you’d be doing is getting yourself killed! Just like Julian.”

  “But I’m not—”

  “No!” She snapped, slamming her hand on the table. “Your father was one of the biggest dragons in the world. And now he’s just a head. Do you really think going out there alone will end any differently for you? Arnav has four dragons at his side, and you? You’re just one.”

  “I can go with him,” Jesup interjected confidently.

  “Me too!” Ashur and Noah chimed in simultaneously.

  “We can all go,” Matteo added firmly. “Arnav might have four dragons—himself, Kendra, Cerys, and Anwen—but Rhett has us. And you and Dad.”

  Kenna shook her head before he could continue.

  “This is not our fight. Your father and I are more than willing to provide supplies, soldiers—whatever we can spare. But we are not fighting, and neither are you. Especially not if Rhett intends to rush headfirst into Drurus alone.”

  “Then what if he doesn’t challenge Arnav?” Jesup argued, gesturing toward the map spread across the table. “He would only do that if Drurus’s army hadn’t already crossed into Sylvaris. But what if they have?”

  Rhett nodded, considering the thought.

  “If Drurus has already invaded my kingdom, then the plan is to stay and defend my people. I won’t go to Dunstead.”

  “You shouldn’t go to Dunstead, period,” Kenna snapped.

  Jesup exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.

  “I still think I should go with Rhett,” he insisted in a calm but firm tone. “He’s still outnumbered. What if Cerys and Arnav take to the skies and attack Sylvaris directly? He wouldn’t stand a chance on his own.”

  “What part of ‘no’ do you not understand?” Kenna demanded, stepping closer. “You have no experience leading men into battle, let alone fighting in a war.”

  Jesup squared his shoulders, trying to hold his ground against the intensity of his mother’s stare.

  “I am the heir to Vespera,” he countered. “What kind of emperor would I be if I ascended the throne having never seen battle? I’d be weak. And if Drakenthorn sees me as weak, they won’t hesitate to come for Vespera.”

  “Do you really think Drakenthorn still cares about a war your father and I fought decades ago?”

  “Clearly, they do,” Jesup shot back. “Julian and Rhett fought a border war with them not even eight years ago.”

  Kenna turned to Mathias, frustrated that Jesup wasn’t listening.

  “Talk some sense into your son.”

  Mathias exhaled heavily, his fingers pressing into the table as he thought to himself. Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet Kenna’s.

  “I’m sorry, little thorn, but I agree with Jesup.”

  Kenna stiffened in disbelief before turning back to Jesup.

  “What if you die?” She questioned, her tone almost pleading now. “You have a wife, two children. Who will take your father’s throne if something happens to you?”

  “I mean, you guys had plenty of spare sons,” Noah interjected with a smirk. “Rama could easily take the throne if something happened to Jesup.”

  Kenna’s expression darkened as she stormed around the table, grabbing Noah’s arm in a firm grip.

  “Do you think we kept having children so that we had extras in case of an emergency?”

  Noah swallowed hard, suddenly regretting his words.

  “Enough,” Mathias commanded as his hands slammed against the table. “Jesup will go—but with limits.”

  “Thank you—”

  “Let me finish,” Mathias interrupted as he stared at the men around the table. “Vespera has not been to war in over thirty years. Our army is small because we’ve had the luxury of peace. The most we can spare is five hundred men, and they are inexperienced. They will not be sent to the front lines as fodder. Instead, they will remain on reserve just inside our borders.”

  He turned to Rhett, leveling his gaze on the young king.

  “If you need them, you may send word to Jesup. But your men will lead any charge, not mine.”

  Rhett inclined his head in gratitude.

  “I understand. Thank you.”

  “And what about us?” Matteo questioned, gesturing to himself and his younger brothers.

  “The three of you will act as messengers,” Mathias answered. “Matteo, you will remain with Jesup’s unit. When he needs communication relayed to Rhett or back to us, you will handle it. Ashur and Noah, you will stay with Rhett’s camp, delivering urgent messages between Jesup and the other cities of Sylvaris. But none of you will fight. Jesup may engage in combat only if the lives of our men depend on it. That is my final word. Got it?”

  The four princes exchanged glances before nodding reluctantly.

  “Yes, sir,” they murmured. Even Rhett nodded in agreement.

  But Kenna…

  Kenna was furious. It didn’t matter that her sons wouldn’t be wielding swords or flying into battle—they would still be in danger. And she couldn’t accept that. Without another word, she turned on her heels and stormed out of the council chamber, leaving the men behind.

  Mathias sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “I’ll speak to your mother later,” he muttered. Then, straightening, he placed his hands back on the table, returning his focus to the maps. “But for now, let’s finish going over things—the first of which being what Vespera shall get in return for helping you.”

  “Of course,” Rhett murmured as he stiffened slightly. “Name it—I’ll pay any price.”

  “I want the land to the northwest of the Lotus Marshlands,” Mathias stated as he pointed to the spot on the map. “It’s the other half of the Veyland Steppe, which once rightfully belonged to Vespera. There’s nothing special about it, but I want it back.”

  “That’s doable,” Rhett nodded eagerly.

  “But it’s not the only thing I ask for,” Mathias interjected. “I want the same thing your father asked for when he helped me with Drakonthorne—to tie the bloodlines together. An arranged marriage between the twins and my grandchildren.”

  “You want both of the twins?” Rhett questioned with a frown. “What if they are boys?”

  “I have some granddaughters,” Mathias answered with a shrug. “Not many… but some… honestly, it would be better if you just had girls.”

  “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Rhett grumbled.

  “Do you not agree to tie our bloodlines together?” Mathias inquired with a raised eyebrow, surprised by the man’s reaction.

  “No… I mean yes…” Rhett stumbled as he tried to calm himself down. He took a second to take a deep breath, then finally nodded his head. “Yes, I agree to your terms. The rest of the Veylan Steppe and marriages between my firstborn twins and your grandchildren.”