21. Chapter 21

Chapter twenty-one

It took Tsaria a few moments to work out that he was in a cart because of the movement. He was lying down and despite feeling incredibly weak and wishing he could fall back asleep, he knew his fever was gone.

Which made him focus a little better. Fever? He remembered Moxie right away, and her boys, although he thought he’d seen a girl as well. Not that it mattered, and he shook his head—or tried—impatiently.

Kamir …where…then he remembered, and focus hit him like a staff straight to his gut. He knew instantly what Kamir had done. Moisture made his vision blur more than the drugs and, with a cry, he tried to sit up. A firm hand steadied him, and Tam’s face swam into his vision. Tsaria swallowed sickly. “Why?” he whispered, knowing he’d been drugged.

“I’m sorry,” Tam said, sounding as heartbroken as he. “He needed you safe.”

Tsaria groaned and closed his eyes. He should have known. He felt the water pouch touch his lips and jerked his head away. He had no intention of being fooled a second time, and ignoring his thirst, he glared at Tam.

Tam held the pouch to his own lips and took a drink. “It isn’t drugged. It was a mild sleeping draft in your strengthening tonic.” He sighed. “I expected you to sleep longer.”

Tsaria sat up, avoiding Tam’s offered arm and yanked the pouch out of his hand, ignoring the guilty look, and took a few tentative sips. It tasted fine, but he dared not risk any more. With a huff, Tam took some more, than passed it back apologetically. “On my honor.”

Tsaria felt better after he drank and looked at the flap securing the cart. It wasn’t so tightly tied that he couldn’t see through the eyeholes where the rope weaved in and out. It was light out, but that gray, early dawn kind. The one where the mantle of darkness had not quite decided to give way. “Where are we and how long since we left?”

“Half-way,” Tam said. “We’re not properly out of Rajpur yet. Trying to get through the pass before the market gets busy.”

So, unless he could get a ride, he would never be able to return to the palace on foot. It was way too far. He would do it, but Kamir didn’t have that long. He would sacrifice himself today. “Mansala?”

Tam pressed his lips together as if he didn’t trust what would escape them, but Tsaria knew. There was no way Mansala would let Kamir go alone, so Tam was in the same position as he was. “And are we really both going to just let them go to their deaths without doing anything about it?” he asked in bewilderment.

“What can we do? Cadmeera cannot afford another war. They would shelter us all, but Raz cannot send troops.” Tam looked down, and it was easy to see his struggle. “I cannot ask Mansala to break his vow. It’s what he is.”

“Exactly,” Tsaria agreed. “And I wouldn’t love Kamir if he let those children die.” Absolutely not.

Tam hesitated, staring at him for a moment. “You love him?”

“Of course I—” But then Tsaria stopped. Panic surged through him. Kamir had professed his love. Had called him incoerasa , his heart. He had taken everything Kamir had offered and given nothing in return. Had kept his feelings guarded like they were a dowry. Something to be bargained with. Shame burned him like the pyre he deserved to lie on. Kamir would go to his death not knowing Tsaria loved him.

He loved that incredible man with all his heart and soul, but never once told him. He ignored his wet cheeks, the agonizing pain in his heart, and the deep longing for a future with the best man in the world, and focused again on Tam.

“I love him,” he said like a vow. “I’m going back. You can do what you like, but I’m not leaving him.”

Tam stared at him for a long moment, then smiled slowly. He moved to the opening and yelled to the driver to turn the cart around. “We need a plan. Veda and Draul said they had enough people to protect the children,” Tam added.

“What we need to do,” Tsaria said, “is get to Kamir and Mansala, but also stop this from happening ever again.”

Tam stared at Tsaria and Tsaria took in every unspoken word. The fact was, to stop Gabar and every other bully that had spent summers reinforcing Kamir’s low self-worth, he had to change Kamir into a dragon.

Tsaria closed his eyes and remembered the moment he’d first seen Kamir. He’d walked into the chamber not wanting to be there, detached, almost, at what was expected of him, and then their eyes had met.

Something pure had passed between them, and as Tsaria was finally being honest with himself, it had been the moment he’d fallen in love with the beautiful man who had grown scales and fangs and claws. Tsaria had since been so desperate to protect himself from his money and status that he hadn’t ever given Kamir a chance since. Rejected him. Pushed him away. Denied their love.

Kamir had offered him everything, but because he had been so stupid, he’d rejected the one thing, so sincerely offered, that would have been the best thing ever to happen to him. Kamir’s love. He hadn’t tried to replicate that moment. He hadn’t given himself freely. He’d mistrusted him. Constantly denied whatever they could become together.

Tsaria closed his eyes and knew this was their last chance. He couldn’t crawl back to Cadmeera. He would be taken care of, sure. Live free. Or he could follow Kamir to the palace and stand by him. There was a very good chance he would be killed. Almost a certainty.

What should he do? But he almost laughed at his silent question. He loved Kamir, and for the first time, he absolutely believed Kamir’s love wasn’t based on what Tsaria could do. No, he knew it wasn’t. Other people had made choices for him all his life. This was one he had to make for himself. And he knew what it was going to be.

“Are you sure?” Tam asked.

“Yes.” He was, completely. “But we need a way of getting into the palace, and I don’t think getting arrested will help this time.” Tam grinned and Tsaria remembered Tam’s mouse. Which led his thoughts to another type of street vermin…

Kamir was ready. He hadn’t eaten the morning meal Mansala had presided over. He knew Tam and Tsaria should be well beyond Cadmeera’s borders now and wondered if Tsaria would ever forgive him. But no, he probably never gave him much thought. He would be glad to be free of the whole nonsense. Tsaria would lead a comfortable life in Cadmeera. Who knew, he might even find love. Or a family. Once upon a time Kamir had dreamed of the same, but as his upcoming meeting would be likely the last thing he would ever do, he was content to wish that dream came true for Tsaria. He just wouldn’t be there to see it.

He waited as the ache spurred by that thought spread through him. But it wasn’t jealousy, merely regret. He truly wanted Tsaria to be happy. Thanks to the laws and customs he had allowed to perpetuate, Tsaria had been sold into sexual slavery as a child. Ignorance was no excuse. He was his father’s heir, and had never once tried to wrest power from Gabar. He might not have been able when Tsaria was a child, but in all those summers he had done nothing to try to help his downtrodden people other than hide away in his library and read scrolls. He wondered how many had died per scroll? Was there a blood number per inked word?

He was dressed in every finery possible, his emir sash draped across his silks. His last hope was the woman, Elainore, and her conviction that she could create an illusion good enough to convince the ruling assembly he was a dragon. He understood her desperate need to help her people. The desert was an unforgiving place, so harsh that sometimes even prepared travelers didn’t survive the crossing.

“Highness,” Mansala almost whispered the title.

“Please,” Kamir said. “Today of all days, please call me by my given name.”

Mansala stared at him for a heartbeat, then crossed the space and gathered Kamir in his arms.

“I wish you weren’t here,” Kamir choked out and felt the answering rumble from the chest he was pressed against. Even though he was so very glad to be with his best friend, he also wanted to spare him.

“Kamir,” Mansala said clearly. “It has been the greatest honor of my life to serve as your sentinel. But we’re not done yet.” He hesitated, then stepped back. Kamir let his arms fall to his sides. “Do you know the procedure for today?”

Kamir wished he didn’t, but thanks to the books he pored over, he knew exactly what was coming.

“The clerk of the ruling assembly will present himself here at the eleventh bell before midday. I will be escorted to the assembly chamber. We partake in the blood of the gods—”

“The what ?” Mansala interrupted, which he never did.

“Spiced wine. It’s symbolic only. And everyone drinks from the same cup.” Kamir smiled. “It cannot be poisoned.” Mansala huffed. “Then in front of certain approved witnesses, I am expected to change into my animal.”

“Certain witnesses?”

“All sixteen witnesses,” Kamir said. “My uncle, as my closest blood relative, will be there. Iskar and Damatrious too, I imagine. Possibly Elainore.”

Mansala frowned. “The woman that was with him yesterday?”

“She says she is from the endless desert and has powers of illusion. She thinks she can convince the assembly I can turn into my dragon in return for land to save her people. She holds sway over my uncle.”

Mansala was silent. His skepticism was clear.

“I don’t trust her,” Kamir said. “But what other choice do I have? If I don’t produce my dragon, Rajpur will fall to my uncle. If I refuse, then children die.” Kamir placed a gentle hand on Mansala’s shoulder. “You will have to leave.”

Mansala shook his head, “Highness?”

“You will have to,” Kamir repeated regretfully, then he turned to the glass and gazed at himself, but he didn’t see the fitted black breeches with the gold thread, or the polished knee-length boots crafted from the finest leather. The dazzling white shirt covered with the deep purple jacket split at the hem to showcase his breeches. The purple sash proclaiming him the heir and the ruby and diamond-encrusted crown. The one of a kind seven-hundred-year-old statement not to the holiness of the Rajpuran royal family, as it was meant to be, but to the thousands of slaves that had worked in back-breaking conditions in the Rajpuran mines, and often lost their lives. As he looked in the glass he just saw the shame of a kingdom. He wasn’t surprised Tsaria couldn’t bring himself to love him. He was the embodiment of a class that celebrated greed and bullied all those without money. Cruelty and subjugation were normalized.

No, it was better this way. He had to work out some way of bringing forth his dragon without risking Tsaria. He would never let his uncle or cousins get his hands on him. Kamir would fight to his last breath to keep him safe.

They both looked over as the knock came at the door. Mansala slid the ceremonial sword into Kamir’s pearl-encrusted scabbard and stood back.

“I hate this,” Kamir said.

“I know,” Mansala replied, both acknowledging there was nothing they could do to change anything. Not yet anyway, and not without a dragon.

A whole unit of imperial guards fell into step beside him as they walked to the assembly chamber, Mansala at his side. Horns sounded as he arrived, and the doors were swung inward. All sixteen members of the assembly were sitting on a raised platform to the right. Gabar stood to the left, and Elainore was beside him. He didn’t dare catch her eye.

The clerk that had led the procession unfurled a long scroll and intoned the words that Kamir knew. That in front of the ruling assembly, his provenance to be the emir of all Rajpur should be demonstrated.

Kamir didn’t bother listening to most of it, simply took the proffered goblet , knowing he had to be the first to drink, and swallowed the three mouthfuls as ordained before it was passed to the assembly members and finally Gabar. His cousin Iskar lounged in the corner, but he already had a full goblet. Damatrious was handed a note by a guard and sighed in frustration, but left the room.

The clerk finished his speech, and then dismissed the servants from the room, and stood in the corner with five guards. Kamir had the right to ask a question first. He struggled for a moment to focus on the idiots, all sitting there clothed in superiority and threatening the lives of innocents, but then he stared them all down. “It may be easy to order the killing of innocents, but it is often impossible to take a blade and slice their small throats yourself. I wonder how many of you would sanction that order if it was you that was wielding the blade?”

Kamir took them all in. He counted at least ten either blank faces or superior smirks but saw the other six either beset with guilt or horror at his question. It was still a minority, though, and he blinked twice to try to focus. Their faces blurred.

He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t quite form the words. The first assembly member sprawled out on the desk in front of him, and Kamir knew that something was very wrong.

He heard the dragon rather than felt it, which was odd. There wasn’t the same feeling of utter peace that there had been when Tsaria had changed him. This time it was almost as if it was happening to someone else. The roar grew louder, the heat. He blinked and saw Elainore with her arms raised as if she was summoning his beast, and heard running steps he knew not who they belonged to. Was this the illusion? He closed his eyes and swayed. He heard one of the assembly members shouting something but he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, and he sank to the floor, and sat on something wet, Sticky.

Blood, so much blood, he didn’t know where it came from. Screams of fear instantly silenced by a snap of jaws. Blades raised, but the arms holding them were bit off by sharp teeth before they could be swung, and then there was only agony to be heard in every scream. Bodies snapped in half. Heads swallowed by powerful jaws.

He heard the large doors open, and what seemed like hundreds of panicked footsteps. His vision grew dark, but he was still aware of what was happening even if he couldn’t focus.

He shook his head. Tried to take in the unbelievable carnage in front of him. Bodies. So much blood. Screams rent the air, then cries, then whimpers. Then silence. The ground was littered with bodies, and all swam in red.

By the goddess… what have I done?

He wasn’t sure whether he closed his eyes voluntarily or not but he was so glad when he sank into nothingness. He hoped he would never wake up.