Page 37 of Kingdom of Rot & Ruin
“No. I am Zariah.”
Chapter
Ten
The dragon had just turned into the prince, but the thing my brain couldn’t wrap around was aname.
“Zariah? The prince’s name is Zion,” I protested. I prided myself on knowing who was who among the Nobles. Knowledge was power, and I snatched up every scrap I could.
So I knew with no doubt that there was noZariahat court.
But that thought was hard to pursue when the child in front of me blanched, clearly upset as I denied his existence.
Way to go. He could just turn back into a dragon if you piss him off. You can call him king mugwump for all you care.
The boy’s eyes watered with tears as he slapped his hands over his face. “I’m not supposed to tell! Momma said!”
Don’t upset the dragon boy.
I was still bleeding (likely internal and external), but I found myself forced to scoot across the top of the dome and roughly lay a hand on the small boy’s back incomfort. To my shock, he wrapped his little arms around my waist andsqueezed hard. His strength would have surprised me if I hadn’t just seen him as a fire-breathing beast.
“Hey, there. It’s … ok. You don’t have to tell me anything,” I pushed out awkwardly.
I barely knew how to talk to other people, let alone a crying child. But this was survival.
“Momma said I couldn’t tell,” he cried into my stomach.
I winced as his fingers pried sharply into my skin; much more sharply than any human fingernails should.
Shit.
“Hey, hey. It’s fine. Sorry. Zariah.” I gently pried him away from me so he didn’t accidentally shred a kidney. Or what was left of it.
I tried to give him a smile. Hopefully, it wasn’t merely a pain grimace. I pulled on all of my years of social grooming and manners from my mother and Vession.
“Zariah, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Zephyr.”
Zariah’s face lit up like the morning sun, a smile so radiant that my lips couldn’t help but twitch upward in response. He reminded me of M.
M the traitor.
My face darkened. I cleared my throat.
“So. You are the dragon. And the prince. What is that like?”
His smile faded, face puckering into the pouting expression I often saw on the younger boys in the dormitory.
His mouth opened, and an odd growling sound came out. The boy frowned and tried again. “Aarrrg … Aaahhh. Ah’m.” He coughed. “I’m not the prince. Zion is.” He blinked up at me. “Sorry. I haven’t used people words in a bit.”
Interesting. I had read about individuals with sick minds from traumatic events and they split off their personalities in order to cope and protect themselves. Was this such acase? Was Zariah a personality separate from Zion! How rare and fascinating!
“Who is Zion, then? Can you tell me about him?” I asked politely. The text had said that each personality had to be treated as their own person, after all. So that is what I would do.
His nose wrinkled, arms crossing over his chest.
“He will be the next king. He hates mutton, but that’s silly; it’s so good! He fears everything. He’s a sissy.”
Hmm. That certainly sounded like the frightened young prince that barely anyone ever saw, as well as the rumors surrounding him.
