Page 14 of Caress of Fire
Fedryc inhaled deeply, trying to settle his breathing into a semblance of control, then wiped his cheeks clean, knowing full well that it would give his weakness away but unable to avoid it.
“Yes, Sir.” Fedryc looked at the thin-faced man who called himself his father. His fine lips were closed tight together, so hard they were white. His mouth was lined with fine wrinkles, and his hair lay perfectly tamed on his head. He looked exactly the way a High Lord was supposed to look, and nothing like a father should. Those silver eyes saw everything inside him, every weakness and every failure, and every year, Lord Aymond Haal came to the Emperor’s court to remind his son how unworthy he was.
“Nyra is much too wild. You have to tame her.”
Fedryc’s heart grew heavy, and the ball of feelings at the core of his chest churned angry and hot. At his side, Nyra rubbed her muzzle against his hand, absorbing his pain and anger, his fear. A flash of brashness answered Fedryc’s pain, coming directly from the dragoness’ untamed heart, and he lifted his head to address his father.
“Nyra isn’t too wild.” He heard himself speak in a strong, steady voice. “She’s just bored by all those lessons.”
“She wouldn’t be bored if she took her training seriously.” Lord Aymond Haal bore down on Fedryc and Nyra, his face taut with repressed anger. “This is why I sent you here, as a ward of the Emperor. To train to become the High Lord of Aalstad and carry on the family’s honor after I die. Not to fool around in the fields with a wild dragonet.”
“But we train all day!” Fedryc couldn’t contain himself anymore. All his loneliness came bubbling up, all those hours spent under the cold, uncaring eyes of the masters, studying dusty books, training with heavy swords until his palms bled and his arms ached. “Before Henron came, we didn’t even have anyone to play with.”
“Henron Ralun is not an acquaintance fit for a future Draekon High Lord.” Lord Aymond pursed his lips.
“Henron is my friend!” Fedryc spoke louder this time. “He’s the only friend I ever had here!”
“You will stop your foolishness. You will concentrate on your training.” Lord Aymond Haal’s eyes gleamed with anger but his voice became lower, more controlled as he articulated each word carefully. “You will not spend time with a boy who is the shame of his family. And most of all, you will tame your dragoness so you will not embarrass me any longer!”
Fedryc stared at the stranger who was his father. Those cold, cold eyes. That stern face, void of any warmth. How he despised himself, and how he despised this empty-hearted man for letting him know that he should never have been born.
This man who called himself his father. Fedryc knew he should back down but the emotions filled him, all those years of pain and loneliness came back with a bite. He didn’t care anymore. Lord Aymond Haal could berate him all he wanted, but Fedryc wasn’t allowing Nyra to fall under his cruel words.
“You don’t know Nyra. You don’t know me!” Fedryc shouted. “And you don’t tell me what to do!”
The slap came, hard and painful. Fedryc fell on his ass, rolling over Nyra. The dragoness writhed out from under him, then jumped protectively over Fedryc’s body. Nyra hissed, smoke and heat coming from her open mouth, her fangs at the ready.
“Restrain your dragon.” Lord Aymond stood over Nyra and Fedryc, his hands balled into fists.
“She’s only trying to protect me.” Fedryc was crying openly now, his cheek burning, his eyes dripping with unrestrained tears. He wrapped his arms around the dragoness’ neck, trying to prevent her from attacking his father, but with the physical contact, all the beast received was his searing anger, his raw pain at the disgust he sensed in his father’s words, his father’s eyes. “Please, don’t hurt her.”
Lord Aymond Haal stared at his son and at the writhing juvenile dragoness, all teeth and scaly fury. His composure came back slowly, the mask of steely control erasing the anger inch by inch. His hands relaxed and he wiped his palms on the silk of his pants.
“There will be no more child’s play,” Lord Aymond announced in a voice cold enough to slice through flesh like a knife. “You will train with Nyra as befits the future Lord of Aalstad. There will be no more discussion on the subject.”
With one last icy look, he turned away from his only son, and walked down the deserted hallway of the ward’s wing of the Imperial castle. Fedryc watched his father leave, a stone as cold as winter and heavy as his heart settling between his ribs.
As he reached the corner of the long hallway, Lord Aymond paused, then turned back to Fedryc. “I’m doing this for your own good. You’ll understand one day, son.”
Then his father left, never to return for a face to face visit again.
Fedryc opened his eyes, pushing the memories back into the pitch-black hole where they belonged. Emotions coiled inside him, nearing the surface, deadly and full of repressed anger, flowing like lava, ready to wipe the world clean in a rightful rage. He swallowed the old pain down, knowing there would never be anything done about it. Not now that Lord Aymond Haal was gone from this world.
He turned to stare at Henron and Nyra. His two oldest friends. They were more than that. They were the family he had chosen.
I’m here now, Father. I won’t let you down, even if you deserve nothing of my loyalty.
He would honor his father’s life at the Mourning that was coming, and would hold his family’s seat on Earth as High Lord of Aalstad. He would find and punish his father’s murderer. And he would protect the human woman his father had been about to mate.
If only.
Fedryc pushed the thoughts of his childhood away, knowing it would consume all his mind if he allowed himself to look back at the old grief and the years of longing. He was not a boy anymore, and there was no place in a Draekon’s life for weakness. He needed to assert his hold on power on his father’s seat, and for that, he would have to be ruthless.
His life hung in the balance, but moreover, Marielle Jansen’s life depended on it too.
Fedryc shed the embrace of the past and turned to look at his father’s old office again. Knowledge lined the walls of his father’s office, shelves and shelves of it, from floor to ceiling, precious volumes on all the subjects dear to the Draekon people.
“This one is probably the last of its kind.” Fedryc spoke to Henron over his shoulder as his fingers traced the length of a leather-bound book. “It’s a first edition of theDraekon Origins, from before the Civil Chasm.”
