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my king, of course—”

“Absolutely not,” Ihvon interrupted. With his mouth covered by that beard, it was Ihvon’s eyes that let Calen know he was scowling. His face softened under Arthur’s glare. “You cannot go down there without a guard, Arthur.”

“I can go where I please, Lord Arnell. The dwarves of the Lodhar Freehold have been good to our people, in case you have forgotten. Besides, I do not believe a guard could protect me from anything that a Draleid and a Jotnar could not.”

Ihvon grunted in disapproval, but he did not argue. He folded his arms and sat back into the red velvet couch.

“Aeson, Asius?”

“We can be ready to leave within the hour, Your Maje – Arthur.”

“It would warm my heart, King Arthur Bryne, son of Thuram Bryne.”

Arthur almost leapt from his seat in enthusiasm. “Fantastic. It is settled, then. Oleg, please inform the Wind Runners Guild that we will be at the tunnels within the hour, requiring transport to Durakdur.”

“It will be done, my king,” Oleg said. He rose from his seat and made his way to the door.

“Okay. Those of you who will be joining me, please gather what you may need. We will meet at the Wind Tunnels in an hour’s time. Calen, I will send Conal to guide you.”

Calen had to hold back a sigh of relief. He would have felt silly asking for Conal himself, but he did not have even a notion as to where the Wind Tunnels were. He still needed Conal’s help to find his way from his chambers to the courtyard. The boy never complained, though. He seemed eager to walk with Calen whenever the opportunity arose. Especially when Valerys came with them. Once or twice, Conal had taken the wrong turn, too preoccupied with asking questions and staring at the dragon’s shimmering scales. He was rather disappointed when he found out that Valerys could not yet breathe fire.

“Thank you, Your Maje – Thank you, Arthur.”

A smile crept onto the king’s face when Calen corrected himself.

“Okay, be off with you all. We have preparations to make and only an hour to do so.”

As the group were saying their goodbyes, Calen felt a hand drop down on his shoulder. He turned to see Asius looking down at him.

“Calen, it would warm my heart if I could meet the one who shares your life.”

It took a moment for Calen to remember that was how the Jotnar referred to the dragons. “Of course, Asius. To warm your heart would be my honour.”

Asius seemed to know his way around the city far better than Calen did, which was a relief. Calen did not have a doubt in his mind that he would have gotten completely lost on his own. It didn’t take long for them to make their way through the maze-like corridors of the Inner Circle, to the courtyard where Valerys lay sleeping on the smooth stone ground, the warm sunlight shimmering off his scales – it appeared the earlier flight had taken a lot out of him.

“He is beautiful,” Asius said, dropping to one knee beside Valerys, a slight tremble in his voice. The giant didn’t move as Valerys’s eyelids peeled open, revealing a pair of pale lavender eyes.

“Asius, son of Thalm. Meet Valerys.” Calen felt a rumble of recognition from Valerys as the dragon lifted its head and extended it towards Asius’s now outstretched hand. Asius’s pale, whiteish-blue hand hovered just inches from Valerys’s scales, as though he feared they might burn him.

“Asius, are you okay?”

A single tear rolled down the giant's face as he ran his hand along the scales on Valerys’s head. Calen didn’t know what to do. He felt like he was intruding on an intensely personal moment. Asius turned his head towards Calen. The giant took in a deep breath before speaking, allowing the tear to roll freely down his cheek. “Four hundred years, we have waited. My people have been hunted to the edge of extinction. Senas and Larion are all I have left. I have not seen others of my kind in that time. It is safer for us to stay hidden.” Asius ran his hand back along Valerys’s scaled neck, then stood to his full height, his massive frame making Calen feel as though he were a child.

Taking a deep sigh, Asius stretched out his hand and grasped Calen’s forearm. “Thank you, Calen Bryer, son of Vars Bryer. And thank you, Valerys, son of Valacia. For giving me the gift of hope. It is with honour that I stand beside the Draleid once more.”

Shards of ceramic sprayed around the room in a crash as Dahlen flung the pot against the far wall. He slammed his two fists down onto the writing desk with enough force to leave two shallow indents in the soft wood.

He tried to slow his breathing. He took deep breaths in, holding them and allowing them to release slowly.

“Fuck!”

He swept his hand across the table, sending its contents crashing to the ground. He stood in the middle of the room, his chest heaving. He and Erik had dedicated every waking moment to his father’s cause. Given everything. And Calen had simply fallen into their path and taken what should have been his. He should be by his father’s side, going to Durakdur. He had fought for that right. He had bled for it.

Dahlen collapsed onto the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees, running his hands back up through his hair.

CHAPTER 30

Pawn in a Game

Dann wasn’t happy that he could not go with Calen to the dwarves. Not happy might have been a bit of an understatement; but at the least, he understood. Calen hadn’t seen much of him in the past few days either way. That tended to be the way when Dann was interested in a girl. Although, Dann might be better off chasing a wild goose than Alea or Lyrei. The two of them were more than a match for

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