Chapter Seventeen

I stood on the top step before the front doors of my parents' manor, staring across a sea of Dragons—some on horseback, some seated on wagons, and others on foot, with packs on the backs. All of them were there for me. To fight for me. Because I was their king, but also because I was one of them.

My throat constricted with emotion. I'd been so foolish. All this time, I had thought I was fighting alone. Ruling alone. I forgot that there were so many like me, more than there were nobles. These people formed the majority of our dread. And they were with me. Maybe I wouldn't need the Eye after all.

They will help, that's certain, the Eye said. But ten untrained Dragons against one knight is still no match. Training tips the scales.

Are you saying that I'm taking these people to die?

They are going to fight for what they believe in. They deserve that chance, Lyrandir. It will give them pride and remind them that they are more than servants and farmers. They are Dragons.

Dragons who will fall under the blades of trained warriors.

Their choice. And you need them.

No. I will not lead them to a certain death.

Nothing is certain. Not even my visions. The future is ever-shifting. If it wasn't, there would be no point in my warnings. No point to life and the decisions it offers. You face one of those decisions now. Accept the support of your dread, the support rightfully yours as King, or tell these people that they aren't good enough to fight for you.

There it was. The line I couldn't cross. How could I tell them that they would fail when the very same had been said to me by nobles? I remembered the shock that was quickly followed by insults when I signed my name on the tourney list. Every noble there, every contestant, had sneered at me. They told me I'd fail. That I'd die that day. And those words had only made me more determined to fight. But I couldn't do that to these incredible people. If they wanted to fight, I would accept their help and I would train them myself if I had to. I'd prepare them as best I could to face the warriors of our dread. And maybe those warriors would be replaced.

“Vacrond Enclave!” I shouted.

Before I could go on, a man from the back called out, “We are from Heltven, Your Majesty.”

Another said, “And Terrigoth!”

“And Jucares!”

“Word spread,” Ellas said with a smirk. “They've flown through the night to reach you. The other enclaves have sent their strongest Dragons to support our king.”

“Soldiers?” I lifted my brows.

“No.” Ellas lost his smirk. “Not nobles. But the strongest of us, Lyran. And they have something the nobles don't—conviction.”

I looked back at my army. It was made of merchants, tradesmen, farmers, and servants. And I was more proud of it than I had ever been of gaining the crown. This was a true triumph. A testament to what Dragons could be.

“Gavemor Dread!” I shouted.

They cheered, lifting fists into the air.

“I don't have the words to tell you how much your loyalty means to me,” I said. “Thank you for coming to my aid. Those of you who have journeyed here from other enclaves, I thank you especially. I am overcome by your honor and your determination to bring equality to our dread. I'm told that other Dragon kingdoms are not like ours. They have their nobles, but they don't scorn those born without status. Dragons are Dragons to them. And a king may come from any class. I've heard that they train anyone who wishes to become a warrior. They have academies, not just for warriors but also for artists, scholars, and more.”

That sunk in, unsure glances exchanged.

“I don't know where our dread went wrong,” I said. “But I will correct this mistake. With your help, I will make our dread into a community that supports all of its members. I will open academies and destroy elitism. The title of noble will only be given to those who truly embody the word and wealth will be something anyone can achieve. Together, we can take our dread back!”

They cheered again, faces filling with hope.

“The nobles think they run our kingdom,” I went on. “They believe we are nothing more than servants, even I, the rightful King. And that is their weakness. We know the truth—that we are the backbone of this dread! We put food on their tables, shoes on their feet, sheets on their beds, and swords in their armory. Without us, they are nothing. You, my people, are the real Gavemor Dread!”

That won me more than cheers. The Dragons stamped their feet and shouted my name. If I had asked them to fight that very second, they would have torn through any army that came against us. And that was what convinced me. Despite what the Eye said, I knew we had a chance, even without her. Because training did matter, but Ellas was right—conviction could outweigh skill. With tenacity and belief in yourself, any goal could be accomplished.

“Today marks the birth of a new dread,” I said when the ruckus died down. “Today, we rewrite our future. Come with me, Gavemor, and I will train you. I will prepare you myself to face our adversaries. And I will stand beside you when they come for us. Together, we will triumph!”

As the Dragons cheered one final time, I looked at my mate. Aras stared at me with his pale, Hulfrin eyes, full of pride and awe. And that was even more satisfying than the sight of all those brave people who had come to fight for me.