The Dragon Queen Selection Chapter 143

CASSIAN

My father picked up the letter. Read it.

His expression didn't change.

"Lord Vale," he said slowly, "hasn't had a proper vision in years."

"Father..." 

"His mind is failing. He hasn't been to court in years. We haven't heard of him either. Everyone knows it." He set the letter down. "This is the rambling of an old man who can't distinguish dreams from reality."

"It is not."

"You don't know that."

"I went to see him."

The table went quiet.

My mother stared at me. "You what?"

"I went to the Vale estate. I spoke with Lord Vale myself." I met her eyes. "He's frail. He's old. But his mind is sharp. Sharper than you think."

"And what did he tell you?"

"The same thing he wrote. Fire. Blood. The skies burning." I paused. "He said the Dragon Trials should be cancelled."

My mother laughed again, that same sharp, dismissive sound.

"Cancel the Dragon Trials? Over the musings of a deranged old man? You can't be serious!" 

"He's not deranged."

"He's been bedridden for years. More than half of his family is dead. It's a miracle his granddaughter made he this far. His house is crumbling." She waved a hand. "The man has lost his influence, Cassian. He has lost his relevance. We will not upend the Selection because of his nightmares."

"Mother..." 

"The ball will proceed. The trials will proceed. And you will choose Calista, as you were always meant to." She picked up her fork. "Now eat your dinner."

I looked at my father.

He wouldn't meet my eyes.

Coward, I thought. You're supposed to be the King. You're supposed to protect this kingdom.

And you won't even read a letter.

\-—————————-

I left the table without being dismissed.

My mother called after me.

My father said nothing.

Evander stared at his plate.

And I walked, fast, furious, through corridors and courtyards, past guards and servants and courtiers who stepped aside when they saw my face.

They won't listen.

They won't cancel the ball.

They won't cancel the trials.

And Veyraxis is coming.

I stopped at a crossroads.

To the left: Lira's chambers.

To the right: my study.

I stood there for a long moment, torn between the woman I couldn't trust and the solitude I desperately needed.

Go to her.

Demand the truth.

Or walk away.

Leave her to her lies.

Leave her to her revenge.

I turned right.

Walked to my study.

Closed the door.

And sat alone in the darkness, with nothing but my thoughts and the memory of her face.

\--------------------------------

The fire had burned low.

I sat in the leather chair behind my desk, a half-empty decanter of wine within reach, the red liquid sloshing against the crystal as I tilted the glass for another drink.

One more, I told myself.

Just one more.

Then I'll stop.

I had been telling myself that for hours.

The room was dark, only a single lamp burning on the corner of my desk, casting long shadows across the scattered papers and forgotten correspondence. Outside, the wind howled against the windows, rattling the frames.

And inside... 

Inside, all I could hear was her voice. Her words. Her face. They wouldn't leave me. 

I took another drink.

The wine burned going down.

It didn't help.

Nothing helped.

Lira.

Lirael Sutton.

Pretender.

Liar.

Mine.

I slammed the glass down on the desk. The crystal cracked. Wine spilled across the wood, dripping onto the floor.

"Damn it," I muttered.

I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes.

Why can't I stop thinking about her?

Why can't I just hate her?

She lied. She's been lying from the beginning. Everything about her is a lie.

And yet.... 

And yet.

A knock at the door.

I didn't look up.

"Go away."

"Your Highness." The voice was low. Urgent. "It's Rennick. I need to speak with you."

Rennick.

The guard I had assigned to watch Lira. The one I had told to keep his distance, to observe, to report anything suspicious.

Anything.

I lowered my hands.

"Enter."

\---

The door opened.

Rennick stepped inside, closing it behind him. He was a solid man, broad-shouldered, square-jawed, with eyes that missed nothing. He had been in my service for years. I trusted him.

More than I trusted most people.

"Your Highness," he said again. "Forgive the late hour."

"You're here already. Speak."

Rennick glanced at the decanter. At the cracked glass. At the wine still seeping into the wood of my desk.

He said nothing about any of it.

"Last night," he said. "I was watching Lady Lira's chambers. As you ordered. Although she does not know I have been keeping watch on her." 

"And?"

"She left. After midnight. Dressed in a cloak, moving through the shadows like she didn't want to be seen."

I sat up straighter.

"Where did she go?"

"The gardens. The eastern edge, near the old oak. Where they're building the new wall."

My blood went cold.

"I followed her," Rennick continued. "Stayed back. Kept to the shadows. She met two men there. Heavily hooded. Masks. I couldn't see their faces."

"Could you hear what they were saying?"

"Some of it. Not all." He paused. "But I heard one word clearly."

"What word?"

"Attack."

The room seemed to tilt.

I gripped the arms of my chair.

"Attack," I repeated.

"Yes, Your Highness. And I believe I know how they got in. How they've been getting in."

Rennick stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"The underground. The old tunnels beneath the palace. The ones that used to lead to..." 

"The dragon Veyraxis's prison," I finished.

"Yes." He nodded. "There's a small opening. Hidden. Most people don't know about it. But someone who knew the palace, someone who had been here before, or someone who had been told about it, could use it to infiltrate."

Lira.

She knew about the secret passageway, she used it to go see Veyraxis. She knew about the tunnels.

She had been down there. She had spoken to Veyraxis.

She could have told anyone.

"Your Highness?" Rennick's voice pulled me back. "What are your orders?"