Page 60 of Blood of Dragons

We were bound by our wrists and forced onto our knees, knives at our throats as we waited for our turn to be burned. I stared straight ahead, refusing to look at my little brother beside me, to see the fear in his eyes that I couldn’t assuage. I didn’t look at my father either, knowing he must be riddled with guilt that he’d ignored my repeated warnings.

I thought of Vivian and the child we’d made with our love—because that was the only comfort I had. I’d failed my family. I should have done more than warned my father. I should have executed Uncle Barron when I had the chance. There would have been no repercussions for the crime since I was the prince. But I’d let my father’s stupid optimism reign—to the detriment of us all.

My father spoke beside me. “I’m sorry, Talon.”

I wanted to say it was okay, to grant him forgiveness in our final moments, but I couldn’t. My child would grow up without a father. My wife would have to survive without a husband to provide and care for her. I would consider myself lucky if I was burned alive first, just so I wouldn’t have to watch my brother scream until death finally took him.

“I should have listened to you?—”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

He turned to look at me, defeat in his eyes, the sword still pressed right up against his neck.

I wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“You would have been a great king?—”

“I wanted to be a father far more than I wanted to be king, but now I’ll never know my child.” I kept a straight face even thoughI wanted to burst into tears. “I’ll never know if I had a son or a daughter. I’ll never know the joys of fatherhood…”

My father turned away quickly like I’d slapped him.

Silas said nothing as he listened.

“I wish I’d left with her…” I wished I were on that boat with her right now, getting her to safety, building a cottage with my bare hands so that she and my baby would be warm by the fire while I tilled the fields outside. Our lives would be simple, but we would be together. I would have to carry the shame of my abandonment every day, but that would have been preferrable to this, to watching my family die right before my eyes because I couldn’t stop it.

“Bring them.” Uncle Barron issued his command.

A moment later, Mother and Rosella were dragged from the castle, both of them sobbing like they’d already endured terror behind the walls of the castle. They were forced to their knees on the other side of my father.

He didn’t look at them.

“Rise,Your Majesty.”

I stared straight ahead, unable to look at him, unable to watch.

He got to his feet on his own. He didn’t fight. Didn’t issue a protest.

My mother sobbed harder than ever. Her cries were like wet screams.

The men escorted him to the stake and secured him to the wood.

My eyes dropped down, focusing on the cobblestone beneath my knees, my mind desperate to block out the horror.

I heard the dragon take a breath—and then felt the heat of the flames on my face as the stream of fire unleashed.

I didn’t hear my father scream—but I heard my mother.

She sobbed and collapsed forward, her hands bound behind her back, bringing her knees to her chest to curl up like a child. The sobs racked her entire body, made it shake uncontrollably.

My sister cried too, but her tears seemed silent in comparison.

My eyes remained down, feeling the flames right on my forehead. When I looked beside me, I saw Silas’s horrified face. The flames reflected in his eyes as he watched the scene, as he watched our father get burned alive.

Then I smelled it, the rancid smell of burned flesh.

I felt the acid move up my throat, and I almost hurled.

Silas bent forward against the knife and splattered vomit on his knees.