Page 75 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
“We’ll see about that,” Ignis muttered. “You’re dismissed. Get that shoulder tended.”
Ember bowed again, casting one last longing look at the door before departing. When her footsteps faded, Ignis pushed the door open without knocking.
The chamber beyond was modestly appointed by dragon standards—a bed carved from living stone, cushioned with furs, a washbasin, a small table with chairs. No treasures adorned the shelves, no precious metals gleamed from the corners.
It was comfortable without being welcoming—just the way he preferred it.
Prince Markth lay on the bed dressed in the same formal attire he’d worn at the northern pass, though his clothes were now wrinkled and stained. He bolted upright at their entrance, fear flashing across his features.
“Please,” he blurted, scrambling backward until he hit the headboard. “Don’t kill me.”
Ignis let his wings unfurl slightly, emphasizing his size as he advanced into the room with a toothy smirk. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t,” he growled, heat radiating from his scales. “Your family didn’t spare mine.”
The prince swallowed hard, his gaze darting between Sora and him. “I’m not like them.” The words slipped out low and urgent, barely holding back the plea beneath. “I never wanted this war.”
“Yet you stood beside your sister when she drove a poisoned blade into my Luna.”
The prince’s eyes widened. “I had no knowledge of her plan. I thought we were negotiating in good faith.”
“Honestly? Somehow I doubt that.” Sora stepped forward, hands on her hips, silver scales catching the light in a shimmer that echoed her defiance. “Why should we believe you?”
“Because I’ve been trying to change things from within,” the prince said, his words tight with desperation. “The shadow alchemists have my parents and sister in their grasp, and they’re blindly accepting anything they give them. These ‘enhancements’ they’re developing—corrupted essence weapons, potions that twist natural order—they’re abominations.”
Ignis paced around the bed, wings half-unfurled. Each step struck with silent fury, tension coiled tight beneath his scales. “Convenient words from a captive.”
“I’ve been opposed to the omega harvesting for years,” Markth insisted. “But speaking against it openly would have meant my death. The shadow alchemists have too much influence, and ears everywhere.” He leaned forward, eyes pleading. “I can help you save your spy—Coal, was it? I know where they’re keeping him, which guards are loyal to me rather than my sister.”
Ignis exchanged a glance with Sora, sensing her skepticism mirroring his own. “And in return? What do you want?”
“Help me dethrone my family.” The prince’s voice dropped to a whisper, as though the stone walls themselves might betray his treason. “My father is merely a figurehead now. My mother and sister control everything, and they’re destroying our kingdom with their obsession with power without a care about what happens to our people—or our neighbors.”
“How could we possibly trust you?” Ignis demanded, tail lashing behind him in a rhythmic snap that betrayed the tension coiling beneath his control.
“Because,” Sora interjected, her eyes narrowing as she studied the prince with a shrug, “how else will he become king? He may be the eldest, but his sister clearly holds the control.” She stepped closer to the bed, chin lifted, her confidence shining through the quiet gleam in her sapphire eyes. “We take out his family, purge their followers and dark enchantments—he rules. This is the best path to save Coal and end this madness.”
The prince nodded eagerly. “Exactly. I’ve been powerless to stop them, but with your help—”
“If you betray us,” Ignis cut in, leaning close enough that the prince could feel his breath, “I will personally cook you alive. Slowly. Understood?”
Fear flashed across the prince’s face, but he held Ignis’s gaze. “I understand.”
“Do you?” Ignis lifted a hand, letting a poof of his flame dance between his talons before he closed his fist, snuffing it out in silence. “Because I’ve lived long enough to recognize the stench of opportunism. Give me one reason to suspect you’re playing both sides, and I’ll show you why dragons were once the most feared creatures in Artania.”
“I swear on my honor—”
“Your honor means nothing,” Ignis sneered. “Your bloodline forsook honor generations ago.”
The prince’s shoulders slumped. “Then I swear on something more concrete. Help me take the throne, and I’ll declare all dragon territories sovereign and protected. No human force will be permitted to cross your borders without express permission—for they are your land and kingdom. You’re permitted to live in peace—if you will it.”
Ignis considered the offer, sensing Sora’s thoughtful attention through their bond. She, too, wanted to hope for peace… wanted to believe in his sweet words. “And the omegas? The harvesting?”
“Ended immediately,” Markth promised. “Those responsible brought to justice.”
“Including your sister?” Sora asked, her voice steady. “And your parents?”
The prince hesitated, then nodded. “Including my family.”
Ignis studied him for several heartbeats, searching for deception. The human smelled of fear, but not of lies—although humans were notoriously skilled at self-deception.
