Page 2 of The Forbidden Dragon King
Fucking Caligo.
The Chief Instructor has always pushed me harder than any other student. Caligo hates having a royal amongst his ranks.
An expendable heir who is more dominant than he is.
I could take down Caligo and every student as easily as fucking breathing, and only my duty holds me back.
Dear Shadow Gods, sometimes I crave to burn every last one of the fuckers to ash.
I shudder, pushing down my dragon side.
“Fifty lashes,” Caligo barked as he tied me to the whipping post in the parade ground this morning. “Let’s see whether the lash is a better teacher than I am, lad. Do you want to scream? Cry? Beg?”
I sealed my lips and didn’t reply, which pissed him off more than anything else could have.
“One hundred then.” Caligo’s eyes blazed.
I didn’t scream, cry, or beg.
I’m a Golden Dragon. The only one in the kingdom. I don’t show my emotions.
Everybody else can laugh, rage, and love.
But what must Caligo beat into me?
Restraint. Control.Self-discipline.
Because what happens if I forget those lessons? Am unleashed?
After all, I am a beast.
Wicked.
Except, they don’t know half of the darkness that my dragon whispers to me every night, when the shadows rise like smoke around me.
I don’t know why I was born into this form — the form of a long dead legendary conqueror, the original Golden Dragon, Emperor Hadrian.
A destroyer of kingdoms.
Death on shadowed wings.
One day, however, I’ll find out. I’ll know the answer. And that’s the only thing in the realms that scares me.
I catch my foot on a crumbling step, hissing as I slam into the wall. I take the chance to rest for a moment,pulling at the restrictive laces and high collar of the leather uniform.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself panting in agony. Sweat drips down the back of my neck to join the congealed blood.
Never show pain. Never show weakness.Never show emotion.
I hope that the blood from the whipping hasn’t soaked through my uniform. The last thing that I need is Tarquin storming into the academy again to fight my battles for me. It only made things worse last time.
I’m the unneeded and unwanted second prince and heir. Tarquin should accept it because I have. I hope that Tarquin knots and breeds Liviana as soon as possible, then they can have the perfect heir that everybody wants, and I can truly be forgotten.
I fucking wish that I could forget my own yearning to bond as easily.
I distract myself from the pain, distancing myself as I’ve been taught, by staring out of the narrow window in the tower at the capital, Bael, far below outside the walls of the Shadow Court.
Silvery moonlight streams over straight roads that run through areas, which are chaotic with high storied tenements. They are ringed by the suburbs of sprawling houses for the wealthy, complete with courtyards and pretty gardens.
