Page 58 of Cruelly Fated
He poured himself a glass and gave the amber liquid a single swirl.
“Tell me, son…” he said in a level voice that put me instantly on guard. “If the Council were to question my rule tomorrow, if they whispered of replacing me, would you stand by my side?”
In his typical ruthless fashion, he remained staring out the window as if he weren’t weighing his subject's fate based on their single answer.
He’d welcomed me home, called me his firstborn again. Now he was twisting the blade to see if I’d flinch. To see if I’d bleed loyalty.
My jaw ticked. “If they questioned you, they’d be questioning the throne itself.”
A pause stretched thin between us as he pondered his judgment.
His shrewd gaze slid to mine.
“Good,” he said, with that cold ghost of a smile he reserved for political victories. “Because if the crown begins to slip, I will need someone to scorch the hands reaching for it.”
The sconce flame danced in the reflection of his glass. My gut told me our conversation was only a beginning… He’d continue testing me. If the assassins he’d sent into the penitentiary were any indication of what was to come, I needed to watch my back closely. Having Allie around posed a slight complication. Dragons didn’t hand out tests unless they had a plan in place for how to dispatch failures. I feared my girl would get caught up in it.
At last, the king moved, settling into the throne-like chair at the head of the room, one arm draped over a carved dragonbone armrest, the other cradling his glass like it held prophecy.
“Your mother is hosting a ball next week. The silks are dyed, the menu is finalized. And the guest list…” He exhaled, a breath that almost passed for amusement. “She hasn’t been this animated in years.”
He scowled. “It’s in your honor, of course. The return of our son.”
My throat dried. I hadn’t set foot in that ballroom since I was a boy, and even then, only to stand there and look like an heir. Then Torian came along and assumed the role.
“You’ll be expected to attend.”
Not a request. A statement as inevitable as gravity.
I gave a slow nod, keeping my expression neutral. But deep down, I knew this wasn’t about celebration.
The dragon king never played host without sharpening his talons first.
Twenty-Four
ALLIE
Ieased onto the familiar street. My car had made the full trip again without a single sputter. I was beginning to wonder if the fae gods had finally answered my prayers. The constant anxiety that my Honda would stall every time I hit a red light had worn my nerves raw. I’d turned into a nervous wreck every time I looked at it. But not lately. Not since I met Kyon… Could he have…? Nah, he didn’t even know whatcar I drove.
Two dust-covered construction trucks sat in front of Grandpa’s house, lumber scattered across the front lawn. Coasting by, I peeked inside the now windowless building. Empty space and yellowed walls. The roof shingles had been stripped, and a few workers hammered new boards into place, the steady thud of nails ringing in the quiet street.
I U-turned at the cul-de-sac and parked on the opposite side in front of a neighbor's house.
My heart hammered against my rib cage, conflicting emotions twisting inside me. I regretted coming; the trauma of losing family and home was too fresh. And yet, by coming here, I got a weird sense of closure too…
Without the funds to fix it up ourselves, the house would’ve crumbled into something unlivable in a few years. Now it had a chance. A new beginning. Maybe a family with kids would move in and make it home again.
And, in a way, the house renovation symbolized changes in my own life. After losing everything, I could only move forward. Rebuild my life on my own terms. Yes, things had gotten messy for a while with the school situation, at work, and in my sex life… But it also inspired me to try new things—and I don’t mean the irresistible dragon. I’d sold my first digital art piece yesterday. I’d only ever drawn on paper, never considering the digital art market. The demand was surprisingly high.
I swiped at a stream of tears and sniffed. Then I tore my gaze from our old house and shifted the car into drive.
About a dozen cars lined the Avari Penitentiary’s visitor parking lot when I arrived. Traffic on the way had been a nightmare—stop-and-go for miles, probably roadwork. A guard outside the building eyed each person as they slipped past him to get inside. I jogged up just as he was preparing to lock the entrance.
“You’re lucky you’re pretty. I don’t tolerate tardy visitors,” he muttered as we stepped through the door together.
I bit the inside of my cheek, unsure how to respond. Best to keep my mouth shut. One wrong word and they could kick me out. Visitations were technically a right, but in Avari, they were more like a privilege. A carrot dangled before us and snatched away the moment someone misbehaved.
Another guard scanned my badge, then ushered our small group toward the visitation building. My palms turned clammy. I hadn’t seen Grandpa in a week, a stretch that felt like a year here. He could be bruised again, even though Kyon swore his protection continued. My thoughts spun with everything that might’ve gone wrong.
