Page 30 of The Dragon Queen
The men were in their own uniforms, both black with bronze ornamentation, designating them as members of the royal family but still beneath their father who was king. Barron had gray in his hair because he was a man in his fifties, when he should be in his seventies.He should be decades older—so he’s still fused with a dragon. His sons are Talon’s age as well.
INTERESTING.
They sat down, and in a silence full of quiet resentment, they ate their dinner without conversation. Silverware scraped over the delicate plates, the goblets were refilled with wine repeatedly, and the meal lacked the comfort and familiarity found among family members. When I’d had dinner with my parents, we discussed our day, and once dinner was over, we’d usually played a game together.
It seemed like no one liked each other.
A solid fifteen minutes went by before someone said something. “Father, there’s something we need to discuss.” It was the sonon the left. He had dark hair like Talon, had similarities that showed the relation in their blood, even if it was distant.
The other brother stared at him from across the table, a slight warning in his eyes like he didn’t agree with what was about to be said.
I cracked the cupboard door a little farther, enthralled by the tension in the air. The queen sat in silence, hardly touching her food, like she didn’t enjoy it or she was too depressed to enjoy it. I made all these assumptions after staring at her for just a few minutes, but that scowl on her face looked permanent. She was surrounded by her husband and grown children. She should bask in the glow of pride and love, but she seemed miserable.
Barron finished his bite of steak before he leaned back in the chair and grabbed the goblet of wine. He took a long drink, finishing the entire glass before he released a sigh of both satisfaction and dread. Then he grabbed the bottle and refilled it, like that wasn’t quite enough. “I already know what you’ll say, Jairo.”
Jairo’s plate was clean because he’d eaten everything that had been served, but his body was fit under his clothes, his arms distinct in the sleeves. He continued to stare at his father with annoyance. “Then you know it’s a problem.”
“A problem without a solution, as I’ve already said.” He took another drink.
Jairo looked at his brother across the table, as if he expected him to add something.
But the brother dismissed the look by taking a drink from his goblet.
Jairo pressed his lips tightly together before he looked at their father again. “You do have a solution. Tell them to leave. The curse they carry continues to poison the earth, poison our crops and livestock. The wine has gone to shit, and the only bottles that are drinkable are the ones in storage. At this rate, they’ll be gone within the year. The people are starving?—”
“As King of the Southern Isles, I’m well aware.” He didn’t raise his voice in a ferocious scream, but he stared down his son with a lethal stare. “But I can’t ask Astaroth to depart these lands. Only by their power do the dragons remain in submission.”
Jairo should have done a better job of keeping a composed expression, but the frustration seemed to get the best of him. “The dragons are locked in their prison with no chance of escape. We don’t need Astaroth for anything.”
“Until an army marches on our borders.”
“Father, with all due respect, the Kingdom of the Southern Isles is dead. We have to keep our own subjects as prisoners to stop them from fleeing. We can’t allow our people to be armed without fear of an uprising. No onewantsthis place.”
King Barron had no visible reaction to his son’s words, but his anger was so potent it felt physical. “My kingdom is not dead—and the Death King will come for it.”
A flush of adrenaline rushed through me. The edges of my vision turned black from the tunnel effect. So entranced by the conversation, I forgot that my joints were stiff from being stuck inside a cupboard.
Jairo dismissed his father’s claims with indifference in his eyes. “Talon Rothschild is dead?—”
“I disagree.”
My chest started to ache when my heart pounded right against the ribs.
“Father, it’s been twenty years?—”
“A reasonable amount of time to rise to power and challenge his enemies.” King Barron spoke calmly, like he didn’t fear the outcome that he expected. “He was taken by a dragon that could have preserved him in youth. The world has gone on for everyone else, but time has stopped for the two of us.”
“Talon Rothschild wasn’t a necromancer?—”
“This world is a big place with many secrets,” he said. “If anyone has the motive, it is him.”
Jairo exchanged a pleading look with his brother.
“Even if Talon Rothschild is the Death King…” He crossed his arms over his chest as he sat at the table.
The mother continued to sit and sip her wine like she wasn’t there.
“He’s not our biggest problem.” He stared at his father at the head of the table. “Jairo is right. Our kingdom has fallen into despair because those creatures have poisoned it. It was a powerful alliance that gave us the throne, but it came at too great a price. Astaroth and the others need to leave our lands if we want this kingdom to survive.”