Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

PHILIP

Shock freezes my limbs as I take in the words he just said. All this time. All this fucking time. How often did I wish for this man to be my father? How often did I prefer his company over that of my own? And to find out my life has been a lie the entire time?

My brain clicks along at a slow pace, processing everything and filing it away. So much makes sense. Far more than it ever did as I was growing up. It’s as if my life passes before my eyes, filling in the odd gaps with this new knowledge.

It would also explain the odd absences of them both. Did Father know? Did he even suspect? Part of me sneers in thought of the fallen man, a cuckold to the very end, raising a bastard son as if he hadn’t a clue wasn’t his. He probably didn’t know.

Honestly, that’s better than thinking him so weak and ineffectual as to raise me as his son, the prince and heir of the Godwin name. Unless they were all in this together? Planning and plotting, making the strongest son they could. But even that doesn’t sit well with me.

Nothing is right. Nothing is correct. Who I am as a man, as a king, no longer fits. My gut cramps as I do my best to understand and comprehend what this means for the future. If anyone ever found out…

The din of battle dulls to a muffled roar. Around me, lights spin as my vision wavers back and forth. Blinking, I do my best to stay in the present and not allow this malady to overtake me.

If I falter now, who will keep Master Balcom safe? In the grand scheme of things, I cannot forget him or his injuries. My eyes refuse to focus on the man next to me as I gather the tattered banner and press it against his wound once more. He groans and doubles over, the pain evident in the rigid lines of his body.

I wish I could help him, to do something to ease his pain, but I have no remedy. There’s not even a drop of ale I can give him to ease his suffering. Despite the agony etched on his face, Master Balcom forces himself to sit up.

For several moments, neither of us says a word. His chest heaves up and down as his breathing becomes a bit more laborious. I’ve seen this in battle many times. His end is nearing.

With what little strength he has left, he pats my hand. “This seal will open a box. I’ve hidden it deep within the room you used to run off to as a child. Do not worry about finding it. All will become evident the moment you step inside the room.”

“Shhh, old man,” I soothe, gripping his hand in mine. “Rest now. You’ll be better before you know it.”

He snorts and shakes his head, rightfully disbelieving what I’m saying. He will not be long in this world. I know it, and he knows it. After a moment, his face sobers.

“You must promise me. Damn the battle. Damn Kendrick and his backhanded ways. You must get to that chest. Promise me.”

A stark fear brightens his eyes, sending a tendril of unease unfurling through my gut. “I promise,” I manage to whisper.

Nodding, he rests the back of his head against the stone. “I’ve only fathered one child, and I’m grateful for it to be you.” He pauses a moment to catch his breath. “You look so much like your mother. Thankfully, you got her beauty and not this ugly mug.” As he chuckles, a rattling, wheezing sound echoes through his lungs like a death knell.

“Please. Rest. I can’t-”

“Son,” he cries out, his face screwing up in pain as he bites out the words. “Understand me. You are the last of this family. Both as my son and as the prince. You are king now. You’re the only one who can mend this rift. Though they poisoned Princess Briar against you, you must make her see past that. You two are the future.”

His lips continue to move, but nothing else comes out. Nothing but a hiss of air leaves his lips as he crumples in on himself, the life leaving his body. Tears flow in earnest as I shake my old master. No, not my master. My father.

Deep down, I never felt a kinship to the man who sat on the throne, and now I know why. If only I knew sooner. What a cruel twist of fate to leave me here alone with neither father nor mother as my countrymen are being slaughtered.

Briar. She’s the only one I have left.

At least she will be once I dispatch these demons back to the pit of hell. Sliding the necklace on, a slight sizzle travels down my spine as the heat infuses my body. A dragon. That’s exactly what I’ll be.

I’ll rain down my retribution upon these traitors until the entire courtyard is stained in their blood. With a roar, I dart around the bushes and into the melee, caring nothing for life or limb as I hack my way through the sea of people.

One by one, the men fall before me, their blood spraying me with each death blow of my sword. Time has no meaning. Sounds fall on deaf ears, no longer to hear the screaming and crying. All I can think about is death and destruction.

Glancing around, I look upon the sea of dead littering the ground. All around me, the men of Godwin cheer, their hands lifting high in the air as we reclaim the castle. But I feel no joy. No relief as they celebrate. I won’t feel anything until I lay my father to rest and find the chest he told me about.

I motion for a few of my most trusted soldiers to take a battalion and search the castle. No soldier will be left alive. No one will rest until all of Kendrick is burnt to ash. With my orders being carried out, I make my way back over to the alcove and fetch the body of Master Balcom.

As if he were a child, I pick him up into my arms, my strength fueled by the rage flowing through my veins. The other soldiers hush and bow their heads as we pass by. Every now and then, one of them reaches out and touches a piece of his armor, their respect and sorrow intermingling until it fills the space like a thick, smothering blanket.

Not a sound fills the air. Birds do not sing. Insects do not buzz.

Silence.

It’s so thick I can drown in it. Laying him down on the ground, I work quickly with my men to erect a small pyre. It’s what he would have wanted. As much as I’d want to entomb him, to let him rest beside my mother, where she will be put to rest in the crypt down below, I know this is his place, his destiny. The crypt is where she belongs if they ever find her body. But not Master Balcom. Not my father.

The moment the fire touches the dead wood, it lights up, crackling, filling the air with sound. We watch as it climbs, licking up all the dried bark until it finally reaches him. Digging into my breastplate, I grab the signet ring he gave me, running my thumb over the design as his body erupts into flames.

“Ashes to ashes,” I murmur, kissing the ring before putting it back. “Dust to dust.”

The ring scalds my chest as I force myself to watch my master, my mentor, my father burn before me. Thick smoke pours off his body, floating into the air like a somber shadow. I watch as it forms shapes before drifting off.

Though others may not have noticed, I could have sworn I saw the shape of a dragon. But that’s just infantile. No one looks for shapes in clouds and smoke anymore once they stop being children. I’m only seeing what I want to see and nothing more.

“Your Majesty!” a voice booms out from behind me.

At first, I don’t turn. Surely, they’re speaking to the king and not me. And that’s when it hits me in full force. I am the king now. Turning, I watch as my personal guard shoves a man down to his knees in front of me.

“Kendrick,” I growl, stalking forward.

The king spits at me, just barely missing my leg. Rage like nothing I’ve known before races through me until my blood is molten in my veins. My vision wavers a touch as heat shimmers before me.

“How dare you do this to me, my family, my kingdom?” My voice floods the space, taking on a hardened edge I hardly recognize. “What possible excuse can you muster for taking the lives of so many innocent people?”

“Abomination,” he shrieks, thrashing in the arms of my guards.

At his word, exhaustion overtakes me. Abomination. I’ve heard that word far too often today for my liking. As a king, Kendrick should receive an execution befitting him, but I can’t find it in me to give him such courtesy, especially since he’s shown my family none.

“Where is my mother, my f-” I’m almost unable to get the word out. “Father,” I manage to say.

Knowing my true father lies burning mere feet from me, it feels surreal to speak of the weakling who allowed this kingdom to fall.

“Your mother screamed your name as she was raped by every soldier in my battalion. To birth such a monster as you, it was only fitting we show her what good, wholesome seed is like. Too bad she died before even half of them had their way with her. It made her far more pliant and quiet, though.”

My vision blanks as red swarms my eyes. I cannot see. I cannot hear. I cannot feel. To do so would be far too overwhelming. A loud roar floods my brain, erasing everything from the inside out.

Loud shouts try to penetrate, but they never do. I cannot understand what’s being said. Their voices sound as if they are at a great distance, and nothing will ever bridge the gap. Deep inside, something writhes about, wriggling in my gut as if it’s a living thing.

It whispers to me, begging to be released. But I don’t dare. I cannot let this thing loose. To do so would be the end of me. Deep down, I know it.

Murderous rage bubbles up like a witch’s cauldron. Anger at Kendrick, anger at the king who claimed to be my father, and anger at myself swirl until it’s a mass of fury that will not be tamped down. Fingers snag at my arms, cutting into me as my armor gives way. The sound becomes louder, a shrieking demon who will never be silenced. And that’s when I see her.

In my mind’s eye, Briar ambles up to me, a clumsy eight-year-old with doe-like eyes and an insatiable wonder. Please , she whispers in my brain, her words an icy balm against the infernal heat. Please play with me. Come find me, Philip.

It’s as if I never left those ten years ago. I’m right back in the castle, reaching out to her as she drifts off through the corridors. I found her then, and I will find her now. Her soft giggle soothes the ragged edges of my sanity, as if she can pacify the beast raging inside.

Childlike wonder fills her eyes as she dances away, just out of reach, heading to my secret place. I want to scream, to cry after her. If the witch is there, I cannot protect her, but it’s too late. She disappears before I can even get a word out.

I follow after, stopping short as I see her in the middle of the room. She motions to me, silently asking me to kneel before her. Dumbstruck, I do as she asks, coming down to her eye level. With another giggle, she kisses my forehead, sending a rush of cold through me.

There now, Philip. All better.

As if a spell has been lifted, my eyes regain their sight. All around me, my men stare at me, their jaws agape. Wetness coats my fingers and drips to the ground. In horror, I bring up my hands, noting the incriminating vermillion. What have I done?

On the ground, in front of me, the former king of Kendrick lies in pieces. As if an animal has torn it to shreds. Me. I am the animal. There’s no other explanation. My gut churns as I stare at the carnage in front of me, but instead of being sickened, I feel immense satisfaction.

“Find my mother’s body. Prepare her for the crypts.”

Next to me, the head guard shuffles over, his head bowed low. “And the king, Your Majesty?”

“Let the dogs eat the scraps. That's all he’s good for now.”

He clears his throat, stifling a bite of laughter. “Not that pig, Your Majesty. Your father.”

I resist the urge to sneer as I motion him to leave. “Prepare him as well. If you can find him. I have no doubt Kendrick did something just as unholy to his body.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” This time, he bangs his fist against his chest. One by one, all the others do the same until a thundering roar fills the courtyard. “The savage king!” he cries out, pumping his hand into the air.

The others join in until the sounds merge as one. Savage king. As foreign as it sounds, it feels so right. Taking my leave, I make my way through the castle, needing to find the chest my true father left for me. I need answers before anything else.

* * *

Bits and pieces of information slam into my brain until it’s so overloaded I can barely think. Letters lay scattered about from the year I was born until a few days ago. They paint a vivid picture—one of love, beauty, and savage hatred. My mother loved Master Balcom with everything in her.

Even though she knew he was a dragon shifter, one of the last of his lineage, she loved as if he were her own husband. My father knew nothing about their union, though that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. Seems as if no one knew. No one but the evil witch.

As the letters continue, they take a darker turn. They speak of the lies and deceit, the anger and rage stirred up by Briar and her father. If her mother took any part, the letters do not say. As I suspected, they came to the castle to prepare for the celebration of my return, but no happiness came with them.

Treachery, pure and simple.

The family was taken into the castle in a show of goodwill. And why not? Briar was supposed to be my bride. Her family were my allies. And so, like an evil seed planted in the middle of our kingdom, the soldiers slipped out in the middle of the night, killing all before any alarm could be rung.

Tossing it down, I tug on a small drawer, opening it up to reveal one last letter. It confirms who and what I am once and for all. I’m the last dragon of the Balcom line. As if he knew he’d not be able to tell me in person, my former mentor and father spell out exactly what that means.

He explains the feelings that have been bubbling up inside of me since I turned eighteen. Everything and nothing make sense at the same time. Only one thing is certain. The creature writhing inside my heart is none other than a dragon. Agony splits my skull as I run my thumb over the sigil.

He should have been here to tell me this, to teach me how to be, how to act, and who I am. But he can’t. His body lies in ashes on the pyre, never to speak to me again.

The letter trembles in my blood-soaked hands as I read it for the third time. Anger and sorrow intermingle until I cannot find one from the other. Outside, I can still hear bits and pieces of the soldiers chanting my new title - Savage King - but would they still follow me if they knew the title was all wrong?

Dragon King is what they should call me. Thankfully, everything now makes sense. The heat shimmers, the uncontrollable rage. It’s the beast inside, desperate to get out. It was satiated with the violence of the Holy Wars, but now that building up a new kingdom and tending to the wounded seem on the horizon, he wants out.

There’s nowhere safe to do so. And now, without a father to guide me, it’s more treacherous than ever. With care, I put everything back and tuck the chest under my arm where it will be safe as I make my way down to the crypt. By now, my mother should be laid to rest amongst the kings and queens before her.

The glass coffin holds her shut, keeping her away from me, but perhaps it’s for the best. The men tended to her the best they could, but evidence of her horrific ordeal still remains visible to me. I see every mark, every blow, every bit of indecency they visited upon her.

Her lips no longer hold a gentle smile. There’s no mirth crinkling up her eyes. Bruises litter her face and arms, dulled by powder, but fresh and vibrant to me. Rage flows through me, making me tremble as I grip the coffin.

Next to her, the king lies, his body nearly pristine save the thin red line at his throat. The bastard, weakling that he was, didn’t even suffer. Did he even try to protect my mother? Master Balcom died trying to kill the wretched beasts who touched her, and yet this worm gets off easily with a slit throat.

The only thing that gives me any solace is seeing Briar’s mother off to the side. We both lost a maternal figure and not just me. Since she was not part of this rebellion and was only an innocent bystander, they thought of bringing her to this place. I haven’t the energy to figure out where else to put her, so I guess she shall remain. However, as I look back over at the man who would be king, that rage bubbles up once more.

Before I allow my fury to disrupt her resting place, I kiss my fingertips and place them on the glass. “Sleep well, mother.”

Someone will pay for this, and I know the perfect vessel for my rage. Kendrick took everything from me. Now it’s time I claim my bride and steal their last remaining legacy. They cursed me for being a dragon, but soon her belly will swell with my seed. She will not escape her destiny.