Page 169 of The Forbidden Dragon King
“Distant cousin, you mean?” Freya corrects with fakedsweetness. This arsehole has just insulted me and tried to scare us both.He’s fucked.“It’s just that I haven’t served you with the rest of the King’s family and friends at breakfast. You weren’t even invited to King Tarquin’s deathday banquet.”
Ignatius reddens.
None of the other cadets move or speak, but from the tension in the air, it’s clear that they’re listening intently.
You don’t need a dagger to kill someone. In the Shadow Court, you can murder someone by slashing their reputation with sharp words.
I lean closer, and Ignatius flinches. “Aye, he looks the type. A distant relative sent here from the borderlands by an overly ambitious family to make his mark in court. A puffed up hanger-on.”
Someone snickers.
Ignatius looks like he wants the earth to open up and swallow him.
Is he going to cry?
I can only hope.
“Wait, Ignatius…?” Freya taps her chin in thought. “Aurelius has mentioned you.”
Ignatius looks hopeful.
“Nope, he hasn’t.” Freya breaks her position to loop her arms around my neck possessively, before pulling me back next to her. “Because you’re a nobody. On the other hand, we’re both his precious pets. He talks about us every day. Fucking remember that.”
“Attention!” A voice bellows from the archway.
Immediately, the cadets snap to attention.
I shrug, crossing my arms.
Freya lets go of me and does her best to copy the other cadets.
I squint across the courtyard.
A large Alpha is crossing the parade ground. I sniff, trying to get a sense of him, before I can see him properly.
My nose wrinkles in disgust: rusted iron.
His scent is powerful, dominant, and bloody disgusting.
I choke, as my eyes burn.
I listen to his footsteps: the sharp, clipped march of someone who has never been anything but a soldier.
The instructor stops just in front of the line of cadets.
I can make out now that he’s almost a foot taller than me and muscled. He is dressed in full golden armor, as if he’s stuck in a permanent battle.
In his fifties, he has steel threading through his short blond hair. His large features are striking, in the same way that Tiberius’ were.
There is no doubt that this is Tiberius’ brother, Caligo.
I straighten, sizing up the Chief Instructor.
He is the right age to have fought in the First Fae War…to have led the dragons against my parents.
Did he?
Caligo walks up and down the line of tense cadets in intimidating silence, examining their uniforms. When he stops on Freya, I can hear how fast her breathing has become.
