Page 7 of Caress of Fire
Fedryc bent his head to the floor. His eyes filled with tears, but even at five years old, he knew better than to cry in front of the High Lord. “I can be a man later,” Fedryc whispered to the stone. “I will miss my Nan, and I’ll be scared at night.”
The tssk sound that followed sent shudders of terror across Fedryc’s skin and he immediately regretted his words.
“You are a Draekon. You don’t need a Nan anymore.” Lord Aymond’s voice was hard enough to break bones. “I will be expecting you to keep our family’s honor at the court. Work hard with your masters, bring pride to your name.”
Not make him proud. Lord Aymond never expressed affection or pride, or anger, or even hatred toward his son.
Fedryc felt the sting of the tears spreading over his cheeks like a surrender, like shame clinging to his skin. He nodded, not wanting to look up and see disgust in his father’s eyes.
The door to the transport opened and Fedryc climbed in silently, cradling Nyra against his body. When he finally glanced up, Lord Aymond was already climbing the stairs back to the castle. His father didn’t look back.
And Fedryc knew his childhood had ended.
Fedryc opened his eyes to lock gazes with his aunt. Isobel had lived most of her life at her brother’s side. Although she had mated young and produced a child with her first mate, she had never engaged in another mating. It was no surprise, considering her daughter’s dragon was even smaller than Isobel’s. It was the taint of inbreeding, and although it produced dragons of staggering beauty, it was at the cost of their power and strength, and for the Draekon, strength was a virtue held above anything else.
Fedryc couldn’t blame Isobel for her own defect, and he couldn’t blame her for her daughter’s, either. None of them had had a choice. A Draekon woman did not choose whom she was mated to.
But he could blame her for her abrupt, hostile manner.
“I was summoned by Lord Aymond four days ago.” Fedryc handed the official letter to his aunt, who snatched it from his grasp and read it, her lips pursed and her face closed off. “I can only assume I was meant to witness his Mating Ceremony.”
“It won’t happen now.” Isobel lifted her silver eyes, the irises lined with a circle of pure blood red—another sign of her dragon’s weakness—and handed the letter back to Fedryc. “What do you intend to do?”
He paused, studying the woman’s face carefully. She was beautiful and younger than Aymond Haal by many decades, the younger child of his father’s second mating, but the resemblance was striking, right down to her cold cunning and love for power.
“I am Lord Aymond’s heir.” Fedryc spoke simply, and Nyra bristled at his back as if to give weight to his statement. “As such, I am the new High Lord of Aalstad.”
Isobel’s eyes flashed, but it was only for a moment. She inclined her head slightly, acknowledging Fedryc’s claim to the throne and his superior power.
“As is the law,” Isobel said in a quiet voice. “Then as High Lord, we will have to talk about your father’s death.”
“How did this happen?” Henron spoke for the first time, his voice sober and low, but strong like always.
Isobel raised her brows and her gaze went from Fedryc to Henron. Displeasure was clear on her fine, aristocratic features, with a deep scowl curving her high forehead and her fine-lipped mouth twisted in a grimace.
“The guard should be waiting outside,” she said in a voice as clear as crystal. “It’s not proper to have him listening to our private family affairs.”
“If you’re referring to Henron,” Fedryc was pulled from his trance, and a faint anger filled the void in his mind, “he is a brother to me. I trust him with my life.”
“Very well then.” Isobel pursed her lips in what was clearly intended to be a smile but made her look like a hyena instead. “I am afraid your father did not die of natural causes. He was murdered.”
Silence filled the space between Isobel and Fedryc. Behind Fedryc, Nyra was uncharacteristically silent as the news hit them hard.
“Murdered?” Fedryc’s words were breathless and his head swam in confusion. “Nissar was the strongest dragon to roam this side of the continent. He would have never let anything happen to my father.”
“Nobody is stronger thanVenemum Ardere.”
Fedryc stared at Isobel as she uttered the words. Behind him, Nyra growled, the sound low and deep as her body shivered with fury.
“Venemum Ardere?” The words left his mouth but Fedryc could barely breathe. “How is that even possible?”
Isobel turned her back to Fedryc, and her long-fingered hands hugged her arms as she shook her head. “Humans aren’t as trustworthy as your father thought. He should never have brought that girl into the castle. Still, no matter now. She will be punished for her crime tomorrow.”
“The girl?” Fedryc stared at his aunt, uncomprehending. “The human woman killed him? The one he was supposed to mate?”
“She was retrieved from her ghastly house in the capital’s slums, given every measure of comfort and hospitality in the castle.” Isobel looked down at her dragoness, her fingers trailing lightly between the graceful ears of the small beast. “Then Aymond sent for her. He wanted to meet her in the throne room, give her the honor of Nissar’s blessing. We found them shortly after she poisoned him. There was nothing we could have done to save them.”
“How did she do it?”
