“It’s taken care of.”

I grunt. “Who?”

“Commander Meuric personally took him. As a token of thanks.”

No. What if she is aware of that is all my thought? He’ll kill Siarl.

I name to my dragon. Neifion. I want you to verify Siarl’s protected.

I can’t. If I depart to examine on him, it’ll look suspicious. I’m to attend till you’re nicely sufficient so I can fly you to courtroom.

So it’s to be torment. A gradual restoration, I say.

So she will be able to assess your loyalty. Neifion huffs.

By no means worry. She will be able to’t see via me.

Nobody can.

As a result of I’m a grasp of deception.

4

In three days, I get well sufficient to fly on Neifion. I’m weak, however not sufficient that I’ll fall out of the saddle. My restoration wasn’t with out fretting. My concern over Lord Siarl sticks with me, however my lord’s sensible. He’ll do nicely in my absence and keep protected.

The empress left one little maiden to look after me, to make my meals. The remainder of the empress’s entourage packed up and left for Caer, her stronghold. I don’t know if I ought to really feel grateful or to not be left with out her abrasive presence once I may have been healed and on my means.

I stretch outdoors the tent. My muscle tissues are stiff, however the wound is generally healed. A dragon rider, my sole guard, tears down the tent.

My darkish grey dragon waits, lounging on the grotto’s edge. I contact the matching dragon stone round my neck and smile in his route. Neifion has untold quantities of endurance.

Bored a lot? I ask.

He blows out a tendril of smoke. I’m by no means bored once I’m scheming.

I chuckle to myself after which flip to the maiden, who’s folding some cloth to pack away. “Nicely, Meirion, are you prepared?”

“Sure, my lord.” She’s human. Has she ever been on a dragon?

“Caedryn. I’m not a lord.” I’ve tried to get her to cease calling me that for the previous few days.

I slide into the saddle on Neifion’s again, with the assistance of his leg lifting me. The motion pulls briefly at my wound, however I ignore it. I attain for Meirion, and she or he awkwardly slips into the saddle in entrance of me. She grips my arm tightly once I wrap them round her. She’s scared. It should be a primary flight. I ship just a few calming feelings towards her so I don’t find yourself bruised by the top of the journey, which might be just a few hours.

I shudder as I loosen up into my seat. Going to the stronghold of Caer, nestled between the volcanic ridges of Morvith, represents a finality. There’s no going again after this.

Lord Siarl informed me to be daring so long as I’m not defying the empress’s authority. He informed me she surrounds herself with assured lackeys. Her favor will fall on me if I assert myself correctly.

After a number of hours of flight and one aspect journey to take Meirion to her residence, I arrive in Caer. The place reeks of sulfur. The scent isn’t one thing I’ll ever develop used to. Neifion shuffles off, little doubt in the hunt for a meal. He doesn’t want to hold round. I’m right here for the lengthy haul, on the empress’s command.

I argue with the guards within the nice corridor about my presence, assuring them the empress expects me. “I’m ambassador for Creiddylad. I’m reporting for obligation to Her Highness’s courtroom.”

One of many guards, wearing black leather-based, grabs my doublet and pulls me shut. His breath stinks of roasted pig and turnips, however I don’t flinch away. I stare into his eyes simply as he stares into mine. This guard is a half-emrys with a lot mild in his heart-center; he can sense my mild as a lot as I can sense his.

After a pinched inhalation, he releases me, having discerned the reality inside me. “Her Highness is within the dialogue room.” He gestures to a door down the corridor.

I jerk my head in acknowledgment and straighten my doublet. I stride away from him and attain one other set of guards on the doorway. Their jaws drop in objection, and I don’t blame them as a result of their job is to cease me. The guards are unprepared once I carry my fingers and launch my heart-center’s darkish power, which shoves them apart. They practically topple to the ground, however I ignore them as I thrust the doorways open.

Ambassadors sit across the desk, and their scribes and pages sit on the sidelines. The empress paces within the entrance of the room, spouting a sermon about loyalty. As she whips round to face me, her cloak swishing, I catch the vehemence in her expression. My entrance reduce her off. Nobody interrupts the empress with out regretting his foolishness.

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