Page 9 of Blood of Dragons

But I kept my mouth shut.

He sat across from me. “This is a first. What brings you all the way down from your palace of riches?”

“I don’t live in a palace.”

“But you live on the palace grounds, do you not?”

I could see the glint of greed in his eye, the obsession. “My furniture isn’t covered in gold.”

His eyebrows furrowed at the comeback.

“My wife and I live in humble accommodations, a fraction of this size, and we’re perfectly happy. Perhaps you should appreciate what you have instead of always wanting more.”

“Easy for you to say…heir to the throne.”

We exchanged verbal blows back and forth and dug the trench of resentment even deeper. Now I seemed to be in a worse position than when I started. “I’m sure Jairo and Kael mentioned our encounter in the wine cellar.”

Uncle Barron stared at me so hard, with the visage of a stone statue whose features had been worn down by time.

“When Silas returned to inspect the wine barrel that was supposed to be a gift for my father, it was gone.”

He gave me nothing. Fought as hard as he could to feign complete indifference.

“A bit peculiar, to take back a gift.”

“I was unaware that my sons had a gift for the king.”

I gave a slow nod. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“Perhaps there was some kind of defect with the barrel, and they’ll extend their gift once it’s ready.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe it was full of poison.”

There was a subtle narrowing of his eyes, but the rest of his face remained blank.

“I just suggested there was poison in the barrel, and you have no reaction. That’s a bit peculiar.”

“It’s a ridiculous accusation, m’lord.”

“But you seemed prepared for the accusation. Rehearsed, even.”

His eyes narrowed a bit more.

“I did some research in the royal library. It’s never been confirmed, but scholars believe that Haitus Volietum, my great-uncle, poisoned my grandfather in an attempt to jump the line and receive the crown. Find it hard to believe a man would do that to his own brother… But to some people, blood is as thick as water.”

His eyes remained glued to mine, refusing to give away even an ounce of emotion.

“Poisoning my father would be a bit poetic, wouldn’t it? It didn’t correct the royal line the first time, but perhaps it could work the second time.”

He gave me nothing. Nothing at all.

“So a dragon’s magic didn’t save my grandfather. It righted the wrongs of a murderer.”

He was trim with cords up his neck, his face inherently unkind, even when he was spotted chuckling across the room. He had a darkness in his gaze that was unmistakable, a lack of the brightness my father possessed. Somehow he conveyed nothing in that moment—but still showed how much he despised me.

I spoke again. “I’m happy to forget this conversation ever took place. I’m happy to move forward and leave the past in the dirt with our ancestors, to live in the moment and appreciate what we have. I’ve extended my olive branch—and I hope you take it.”

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