Page 17 of The Bond That Burns

Movement drew my eye and I stiffened as a tall, slender figure rose from the crowd a few rows back. Regan Pansera.

She sauntered across the floor towards the Tribunal Panel audaciously, hips swaying back and forth, looking as if she thought she owned the place.

My gaze followed her as she ascended the short steps to the Tribunal Panel box. She wore a tight dress of pale lilac that hugged her body, showing off every curve. I watched as she bent over, purposely sticking her ass out so everyone in the audience had a great view. Then she leaned in close to Viktor Drakharrow, her lips moving in a whisper.

I couldn’t hear what she said, but I didn’t need to. The indulgent smile Viktor gave her said enough. Seeing Viktor smile like that—a real, genuine smile directed at Regan of all people—made my stomach turn.

Regan giggled softly, then brushed Viktor’s arm with her hand before stepping back down. I couldn’t believe she’d voluntarily touched the creepy old man.

She took her time crossing the floor, as if trying to ensure every single person in the room noticed her. As she passed by me, she slowed deliberately, her lips curling into a self-satisfied smile.

I ignored her, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

The low hum of voices in the chamber fell silent abruptly. I looked up to see a highblood man striding towards the podium. This must be the Arbiter.

My heart sank. Shit. I recognized him at once. Regan’s father. Lord Pansera.

Dressed in the same black robes as the Tribunal Panel but devoid of any house markings, Lord Pansera stepped up behind the podium and fixed me with a cold stare, then struck the podium with the flat of his knuckles. The sound echoed through the chamber.

“This tribunal will now come to order,” he announced loudly.

I could feel all of the highbloods behind me turn their eyes towards the podium.

What was Blake thinking right now? Did he have any real idea of what the outcome would be today?

“We are gathered here today to determine the rightful claim over the dragon known as Nyxaris and, by extension, the fate of the girl responsible for the creature’s awakening.” Lord Panserasneered slightly as he said the wordgirl, as if I were nothing but a sour taste on his tongue.

He gestured towards the Tribunal Panel. “The esteemed members of our panel have been entrusted with determining the best course of action.”

The most powerful people in the land and the ones least likely to have any sort of ability to be neutral would make decisions about a dragon who had shown he had absolutely no intention of listening to another highblood.

But sure, it made perfect sense. After all, no one had ever claimed Sangratha was a fair or rational kind of place.

“We will begin by hearing the claims of the houses directly involved.” Lord Pansera turned slightly, addressing Elaria Avari. “Lady Avari, you may state your house’s claim.”

Elaria Avari rose gracefully to her feet and stepped to the front of the box, placing her ringed hands on the wooden edge. Turning towards the crowded tiers of seats, she gave a small smile.

“Honored citizens of Sangratha and members of the Tribunal,” she began. “House Avari’s claim is both simple and undeniable. Nyxaris is a Duskdrake. A dragon bred and flown exclusively by House Avari in ages past. For generations, our house was steward to these magnificent creatures. Their legacy is tied to our own.”

She paused, her gaze sweeping across the assembled crowd. “The dragon’s awakening is no accident. House Avari has been selected to lead Sangratha into a new age. An age of dragons.”

A shiver passed over me.

Lady Avari raised her arms theatrically. “Join us. Join Nyxaris. This dragon is ours by right of history, blood, and tradition.” Then she inclined her head graciously and returned to her seat.

I thought Elaria’s speech was a little presumptuous. But at least she hadn’t suggested executing me.

A quiet murmur of approval from the gallery rose up from behind me.

Lady Avari was certainly no Viktor Drakharrow. But it didn’t matter if I liked her or not. She was staking claim to a dragon she had no control over. Like almost every highblood I’d met here, her arrogance was boundless.

Lord Pansera turned to Viktor next, lowering his head respectfully—something, I noticed, he had not bothered to do for Lady Avari. So much for neutrality. “Lord Drakharrow, state House Drakharrow’s position, if you will.”

I thought back to that first day in the Black Keep when Viktor had essentially sat upon a throne with the other three regents standing around him. Now he sat in the tribunal box, as if he were only their equal—not their superior. But it was all an act, wasn’t it? He resided in the Black Keep, after all. He ruled this land in all but name.

And yet if House Avari was completely lacking in power, surely there would have been no need for the Tribunal. Viktor would have been able to do whatever he wanted. So there was some hope left–if you could call it that. Some sort of a power struggle was obviously happening, even if it was behind the scenes. I had to admit, part of me was hoping to see House Avari show some real pull here today. But for now, I bit my lip as Viktor rose to his feet.

“My lords and ladies,” he began. He smiled smoothly at the crowd and I just about choked. I’d never seen him try to be charming before. “House Drakharrow’s claim is equally clear, if not more so. Medra Pendragon, the lone dragon rider of Sangratha, is betrothed to my nephew, Blake Drakharrow, the Black Prince. This betrothal cements her allegiance to our house.”

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