Chapter 4: The Sunrose and the Dragon

Nyx stood before the shattered mirror in her room, smoothing the dark blue creases of her only decent gown. Plain, sewn in two places along the hem, but it was clean. The royal invitation, neatly wrapped under her pillow, had been clear. The Crown Prince requested her presence.

There was a tiny, stubborn flame of hope flickering in her breast. It was not a court invitation, not a king's invitation. An invitation from him. The soft-eyed lad who had risked his stepmother's wrath to dance with her.

Aunt Seraphis had been angry, of course. "That half-breed thinks he can summon a daughter of the dragon house like a servant?" She had hissed, but Uncle Marius had silenced her with a look. To refuse an outright invitation from the royal heir, was a diplomatic blunder even he would not risk.

As the first light of dawn tinted the sky, a carriage of ebony wood well-oiled, drawn by two patiently waiting chestnut horses and emblazoned with the royal family's sunrose crest, stopped before the fortress gates. She got into the carriage and the carriage started heading towards the royal capital.

The journey was serene, the dull clip-clop of horse's hooves which seemed much more soothing in comparison to the frantic beat of Nyx's heart. She saw the wild, mist-shrouded dragon highlands open up into the cultivated valleys and then to the snow-white scenery of the human capital.

The Dawn Palace was a marvel, full of light vaults and sunrooms. She was led down the packed corridors by a stern-faced guard to the reception room where a small morning gathering was underway.

And there, in the center of the room, was the Crown Prince. He stood stiffly, flanked by two younger, well-clothed boys who closely resembled the Queen.

"Still playing with your little storybooks, brother?" the taller of the two taunted, pulling a small, leather-bound book from the prince's grasp. "Father says that a true king must read about battle strategy, not fairy tales."

The prince's jaw clamped into silence, but he uttered nothing, his eyes on some spot on the wall.

The other boy laughed. "Maybe he is waiting for a dragon to save him. Oh, wait! One showed up!" He pointed a chubby finger at Nyx, who had just walked in. "Is this your friend, brother? The one that does not have fire?"

The first boy tossed the book to his brother, who began reading scoffingly aloud in a teasing voice. The prince's fists were clenched white-knuckled at his sides.

Nyx sensed the familiar heat in her chest, not from her sealed magic, but from a darker, more intimate rage. She knew this game. She knew the very bite of such taunts.

She stepped forward, her voice clear and cold. "Apparently, the royal court teaches its princes manners suitable for a barnyard, not a throne."

There was silence. The two young princes gaped at her, their sneers wiped away by shock. The Crown Prince's head spun back toward her, his face white with astonishment.

The book-thief recovered first, puffed up with himself. "How dare you! You're nothing but a—"

"A guest to the Crown Prince," Nyx interrupted, her tone icy. "Which is a judgment you don't yet have. Now I believe that you possess something which belongs to him."

She held out her hand, her eyes unwavering. The younger prince, surprised at her ferocity, reluctantly pushed the book back into the hands of his brother.

Without another word, the Crown Prince walked. He walked across the room, caught Nyx's elbow firmly but gently, and took her away from the boys' stammering, out into a hidden balcony overlooking a private garden.

The moment they were out of sight, the stiffness in his shoulders eased. He let out a slow breath. "You shouldn't have done that."

"They shouldn't have been doing it," Nyx replied, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins.

A tiny, barely perceptible smile crossed his lips. "Thank you." He looked at the book he held in his hand, his thumb tracing the cover. "It was my mother's."

He led her to a rock bench beneath a flowering vine. "Our mothers," he began, his tone softer now, "they were more than friends. They were friends. The best of friends."

He then mentioned, of the secret letters exchanged, and of a bond created between a lonely human queen and a lady stuck in a dragon house without any recognition. They desired peace. He spoke of a pledge made to protect each other, and to protect each other's children.

"My mother spoke of you when you were not yet born," he said to her, his gaze distant. "She told me that the child of Liora would accomplish everything. She said when the time arrived, I would know what to do."

He turned to her then, his black eyes serious. "I think. that time might now be."

For the first time, Nyx felt the burden of isolation within her shift. She was not just the half-breed seeking revenge. She was the daughter of Liora, and she had a past to recover. And she was not entirely alone.

The air on the balcony was thick with jasmine fragrance and the weight of the future. The Crown Prince's words between them, a shock that turned everything upside down. They were not just two miserable loners; they were heirs to a lost bond.

"They wanted peace," Nyx whispered. "A world where dragons and humans were not about to go to war."

"A world where one such as you would not be half-breed, and one such as me, would not be a captive in his own home," replied the prince, his gaze becoming hard with a determination she had never seen. "We can take up where they dropped off. But we must be wiser. More powerful."

Nyx nodded, a determined fire burning into her bones. "I will claim my inheritance. I will be the heir my father should have been proud of. And you," she looked at him, "will be a king who need not fear his own court."

"A dragon lord and a human king," he mused, a genuine smile finally spreading his face. "Together, we might remake the world." It was a mad, whirling thought.

"But for the present," he continued, his tone becoming practical, "we have a way of communicating. My stepmother's spies are everywhere. We cannot be seen together like this again."

Nyx's having spent years struggling to stay alive, had the solution. "We write. Anonymous. There's a city bookseller, 'The Quill and Orb.' I've heard my uncle complain that it's a center of human sympathizers. We put out messages there using code names."

The prince's face lighted. "You can write as Sunrose," he said, touching the flower crest on his doublet. "And I…" He paused, considering. Then he looked at her with a new intensity. "I will be 'Ember."

The deal was struck.

The tension was broken by the arrival of a stern-faced steward. "Your Highness," the man said, stiffly bowing. "His Majesty the King requests your attendance immediately. It's a matter of state."

The prince's mask of neutrality fell back into place. He nodded to Nyx before following in behind the steward. "Do not wander far, Lady Nyx," he told her, "The palace can be… confusing."

Alone now, Nyx found that the quiet of the balcony felt suddenly oppressive. A desire to move, to witness the center of her enemy's power, was too overwhelming to resist. She crept back into the house and, not using the main hallway, took a less traveled corridor.

The palace was a maze of rooms and resonating corridors. She passed through, memorizing twists and turns, seeing pictures that depicted human victories over monstrous, caricatured dragons.

Her blood simmered with anger.

And then she heard them. Voices, low and indistinguishable, from a slightly open door to a room. One voice was coldly familiar—the Queen's.

"—can wait no longer," the Queen was spitting. "His popularity among the northern lords grows by the hour. If he secures their alliance before the harvest council, my son's position will be irreparable."

Nyx smashed herself into the cold of the stone wall, her breath stuck in her throat.

A harsher, deeper voice answered, "The hunting trip to Silverwood. It's the perfect opportunity. An unlucky accident. These things happen, Your Majesty."

"Ensure that they do," said the Queen, her voice heavy with poisonous delight. " Silverwood is dangerous. It would be a pity if the Crown Prince never returned."

The world turned on its axis around Nyx. This was not politics at court; this was a death sentence. They were going to murder him.

Her heart pounding like crazy, like a frantic drumbeat of terror. She needed to get out. She needed to warn him. She took a step back, but her heels were unable to move like it was stuck to the floor.

...********To be continued********...

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