Page 29 of Dragon Throne: Part One

“We are all part of Caelisium and each other. We belong to the Dragons as much as they belong to us.”

The amusement increased in him, swiftly turning into curiosity. Using the staff as a walking stick, he moved away from the trunk. “I have to say, Braxton. Things have definitely become more interesting since I met you.”

Damn it. His words made me bristle. I needed to keep my shit together if I was to come out of this alive, and without giving away my secret. The stakes were higher now than they had ever been, so I had to play this game better than he could.

“At first, I thought Tharion was your Dragon. Ridiculous, I know. A beast as magnificent as him would never choose a filthy peasant to replace his soulmate…” he considered, talking to himself more than to me while he moved in a wide circle around me, watching me. “Then I saw you mounting this impressive beast—Venom, is it?”

“Yes.”

“And I thought, what an oddity. Why would a second Dragon allow him to mount him? A savage beast, nonetheless.” His gaze swept over the collapsed form of my second soulmate. “It is clear to see he has not been tamed. Though you tried.”

I had half a mind to tell him Dragons couldn’t be tamed. They were not pets or inferior creatures, but I doubted he had any respect for anything in this world.

“What is your point?” I barked, scorned because he was right about that. Venom hadn’t yet learned to follow my commands, but then again, neither had Tharion, so… I had failed with both.

“Then I considered perhaps you had some kind of influence over Venom,” he confessed. “That maybe you had raised him or been part of his life in other ways. I was wrong on both instances sadly. You are nothing special to them, or otherwise.” His keen grey eyes bored into mine when he stopped across from me., and a slow sinister grin stretched his lips. “You have magic. Mediocre magic from what I can see, but the Dragons respond to it nonetheless.”

Every inch of me tensed with his assessment, but I kept my breath steady, not to give anymore away than I already had. “So what?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” Studying me, he stood the staff next to him. “That is what I sensed in you since you were first in my presence. Something about you intrigued me, seeming sort of… Hmm, I dare sayfamiliar, if you could believe such a thing.” He snorted. “It made me curious about you. Pulled me to find out more, but now I know.”

“Know what?”

“That it was your magic calling to mine.”

Fuck.

Could Raithian recognize that it was the same type of power? Devenish legacy magic, or whatever it was called?

This was getting more dangerous by the second, so I remained silent, hoping he would tell me more about what he knew and his plans for me, though it was unnerving to think of it that way. Yet, it was also evident that if the Warlock King was enthralled enough by what he felt in me to do everything he had today and take me away, then there was something he wanted from me.

Interest once again sparkled in his gaze, confirming my guess, and making him come closer. “What exactly are you, Braxton? A weapon forger? A mapmaker? A menial conjurer?” His head shook, and he lifted a hand towards my chest, but never touched it.

WTF. Was he scanning me?

Startled, I stepped back from him. “Donottouch me.”

“Hmm. Whatever it is you are, you are not strong in it at all. Your ability is weak at best, not fully gifted at worst.” Hand lifting to his chin, he rubbed his jaw while considering it.

“I don’t know what I am,” I lied.

His brow lifted dubiously, revealing he knew I wasn’t being truthful. “Did your father not tell you what you were?”

“My father died when I was a child. He didn’t tell me anything about magic before that,” I answered, sticking to the truth as much as I could to convince him.

Sensing the truth in my words, the mistrust diminished in his eyes. He nodded. “Did you ever see him do anything that might indicate what he was?”

“I think he was a healer.” I sighed, pretending the confession cost me. “I became seriously ill as a child while living among your slaves, but he treated me with his blood.”

“A blood spell, interesting…”

“Yes.” Granted, Dad had used the magic of Tharion’s blood within his own to heal me from my still undetermined “illness”, not a spell, but the Warlock King didn’t know that.

Once again rubbing his jaw, he pondered. “He might have been a conjurer, not a healer. What can you do?”

The memory of magic rushing from my fingers and making my father’s painting whole became vibrant in my mind; I clung to that as my reality. “I healed someone not long ago.”

Excitement captured his expression, and he glided towards me, erasing the space left between us. “Is that all you have ever done with your magic?”

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