Draven and Lanae complied, their footsteps echoing against the polished marble floor as they moved toward the middle of the room. The cool, smooth surface beneath their feet contrasted with the heat of the countless eyes fixed upon them. The scrutiny of each council member’s gaze scratched like a physical pressure against their skin, assessing and judging.

  As they walked, the murmur of whispers from the onlookers filled the room, a low hum of curiosity and speculation. The ornate decorations of the council chamber, with its rich stories carved into the very walls, pressed in around them, giving them an acute sense of solemnity and foreboding. Draven’s heart clanged in his chest, each beat resonating in his ears, while Lanae’s grip on his hand tightened, her presence both a comfort and a reminder of their shared fate.

  Movement to the side caught his attention as Lanae’s mother took an empty council seat. Her gaze was unwavering and solemn, her eyes cold and distant, as if the council’s judgment did not coincide with the crowd surrounding them. The shuffle of cloth filled the room as people rose, their robes rustling like whispers in the tense silence.

  Granger moved behind Draven and Lanae, his presence a steady reassurance. Then the guard did the same, the clink of armor echoing in the quiet chamber. Draven caught sight of Caelum and Jenna joining the ranks behind them, their faces set with determination. The silent show made him wonder whether his time was up and this was an execution and not a coronation. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

  Until he saw Varkir and Jairamon join the pack behind him, their familiar faces bringing a surge of hope. Then a few of the bartenders he regularly saw at Mystic Spirits stepped forward, their expressions resolute. And the girls from Lanae’s women’s group gave him an encouraging nod.

  A shock wave ran through his body, the realization dawning on him. This was a show of solidarity. He blinked back at the scowling council, a newfound strength rising within him.

  “Since the skirmish seems to be over, it is time to address your forbidden union.” Faide’s voice rose over the room, each word dripping with disdain and echoing off the high walls of the council chamber.

  Draven unthreaded his hand from Lanae’s and crossed his arms, the movement deliberate and defiant. “Your rules on what is allowed and not allowed are archaic.” His voice resonated with strength.

  “Nevertheless, they are our rules,” Faide replied, his tone cold and unyielding.

  “And yet you let the Undercity thrive?” Draven threw out the only other thing about the council rule that had burned in him, his eyes blazing with fury. “When dragons oversaw Solstice City, there was a fleeting black market presence. And now it’s a haven for the perverse. Where are your rules in that scenario?” His words cut through the air, each syllable sharp and accusatory.

  A few of the council members had the sense to look ashamed, their eyes dropping to the floor, their faces flushed with guilt.

  “Yet you choose to enforce silly rules on the heart versus those that actually do harm,” he continued, his voice rising with passion.

  The crowd mumbled with approval, their voices a low rumble of agreement. The scent of sweat and anticipation filled the air, the room charged with the electricity of the moment.

  “I do not condone this union with my daughter,” Lanae’s mother said, her voice cold and unyielding.

  “You have no say in this union,” Lanae retorted, her tone matching her mother’s feral intensity. “You don’t get to almost sell me off to a beast like Firetwill and then have a say at who truly holds my heart.”

  Draven’s heart rocked at Lanae’s words, a surge of protective anger rising within him. His dragon form simmered just beneath the surface, his muscles tensing as he fought to keep his composure.

  Her mother recoiled, the shock evident in her eyes.

  “You do not get to force my brother into that mind-control machine and then force me into chains in the bastard’s bedroom and get to tell me who I can and cannot love,” Lanae continued, her voice trembling with righteous fury.

  Draven’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on Lanae’s mother. The memories of Lanae’s suffering and the injustices she had endured flooded his mind, fueling his resolve. The council’s glaring eyes bore into him, but all he cared about was standing by Lanae’s side, supporting her in this moment of defiance.

  A few of the council members shifted in their seats, the rustle of fabric and creak of wood filling the tense silence.

  “We cannot condone this union,” Faide repeated, his voice rising to the rafters, echoing off the high ceilings and reverberating through the chamber.

  Caelum stepped forward with narrowed eyes, his gaze piercing. “Why not?”

  “Because it is against our laws,” Faide replied, his tone cold and authoritative.

  “Fae laws, you mean,” Draven snapped, his voice piercing through the air with razor-sharp precision. He looked around the building at the different species present in the room. Dwarves with their sturdy forms, their beards bristling with indignation. Elves with their ethereal light casting a soft glow around them. Gnomes with their small statures, their eyes glinting with curiosity. Goblins with their grotesque features contrasting with the elegance of the chamber. Trolls with deep-creased faces looked on with their ever-present scowls, while kobolds’ magical potions clinked on their belts. Centaurs stood tall with their proud equine stature, and djinn displayed their intricate markings. Dream-traders, shifters, and even the ogres towering over all of them stood in the ranks. Their varied features and expressions were a testament to the city’s diversity. The flickering light from the chandeliers cast shadows across their faces, highlighting the tension crackling in the room.

  “Tell me, Faide and dear council members, since when did the fae dictate rules for all the species present in this room?” Draven’s challenge was obvious. The murmur of the crowd grew louder as Draven’s question resonated with those who had experienced the fae’s authority. “Especially since no one other than fae has a seat on the very council that makes these arbitrary laws.”

  The murmuring of the crowd rose in a low rumble of discontent.

  Faide’s face turned bright red, his eyes blazing with fury. “I will not tolerate—” he began, his voice trembling with anger.

  “Silence!” Draven’s growling command shattered the room, the force of it sending racking quakes down everyone’s spine. His eyes glowed with righteous flames, the heat of his anger intense. “I once told you I thought this council was doing okay by this city, and I had no intention of stepping in and declaring this a monarchy.”

  Hushed whispers filled the room, the tension dense enough to cut with a knife.

  “However, my view of the council has changed drastically. Where were you when the masses had to defend this city from Firetwill’s army?”

  “We were here monitoring the battle,” Faide said, his voice lacking conviction.

  “Monitoring from the safety of your sacred halls?” Draven raised an eyebrow, his gaze piercing. “A good leader heads the charge. A good leader does not hide in wait for the results.”

  “And you think you are such a leader?” Lanae’s mother snapped, her voice dripping with contempt.

  “Oh hell no,” Draven replied, his tone unwavering and his eyes blazing with conviction. “But your daughter fits that description. She fought for this city even when the council had turned on her. Me, I fought for Lanae, and I always will. I should not lead because I would raze the universe for her and for her alone.”

  He scanned the room, his gaze intense, before it landed on Lanae’s mother. The emotions swirling within him were a turbulent storm—anger, love, and fierce determination. “I’ve bled for your daughter, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I would lie down my life for her,” he declared, his voice cracking with the sentiment. “But I will not relinquish my claim on her because of this council’s asinine rules or your personal prejudices.” His words reverberated through the chamber.

  LANAE STARED AT DRAVEN as awe filled her, her eyes wide and shimmering with admiration. Her heart launched into the stratosphere at his adoring words, each one resonating deeply within her soul. The surrounding room seemed to fade into the background. The only thing grounding her was the fierce love she saw in Draven’s eyes.

  “Lanae once told me her dream was to see this society work together to rule. Where every species has a say in the laws created and enforced in this realm.” Draven’s words rang through the hall, prompting nods from the gathered crowd. “And if I have to claim this is a monarchy to allow that to happen, so be it,” Draven continued, his voice unwavering.

  “You do not have the authority—” Faide began, his tone dripping with disdain.

  “I beg to differ.” Varkir stepped forward and produced an ancient tome from his pocket. He slammed it down on the table next to Draven, the sound echoing like a thunderclap. “Many of you on the council recognize this book, yes?”

  A few nodded in answer to his question, their faces pale. Faide was not one of them, his expression dark and unyielding.

  “This is the original decree of Solstice City scribed by ancient seers,” Varkir declared, his voice filled with reverence. “It states the line of authority in Solstice City. According to the decree, the authority of rule shall be bestowed upon the peacekeepers. They are as follows: the line of the first griffin, the line of the first druid, and lastly, the line of the first dragon.”

  Hushed whispers erupted around Lanae, the sound like leaves rustling in the wind. Validation swelled her heart with pride as she glanced at Draven.

  “If fate has been unkind enough to eliminate these peacekeepers, then Solstice City must be ruled by a council representative of the species living under their protection.” Varkir glanced at Draven and then at Lanae before looking back at the council, his gaze as judgmental as theirs.

  “I don’t see any other species sitting on the council. Do you?” Varkir asked Draven.

  Draven smirked, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that made Lanae’s heart flutter. “No. I do not.”

  “And if I recall correctly, Emberwing is the line of the first dragon, is it not?” Varkir continued.

  Draven slowly nodded, his eyes never leaving Lanae’s. “Yes, it is.”

  “So, according to the original decree, this council has been operating against the laws of this realm?” Lanae raised an eyebrow, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within her. Satisfaction surged as the council members squirmed, their authority crumbling in the face of the undeniable truth.

  Draven cleared his throat, the sound echoing through the chamber. “It seems I have the ultimate authority, according to the original decree. As such, I dismantle the laws that define barriers around relationships. And I dismantle the council as it stands before us.”

  The room broke out in a roar of discourse, voices clashing like a storm.

  Draven lifted his hand, the motion commanding attention, and silence settled after a minute, the air heavy with anticipation. “I was not finished. By this time next week, I expect to see a representative from each of your groups sitting in this chamber with us.”

  The council stared at the two of them as if they had sprouted multiple heads, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief. “Wait just a minute,” Faide started, his voice high and indignant.

  “For what?” Draven’s tone was sharp, the challenge clear.

  “Arrest them.” Faide waved at Draven and Lanae, his face contorted with rage.

  Granger raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady. “I studied history, sir. Even I knew the council was skirting the very laws this city was built on.” He pointedly gazed at each member, including Lanae’s mother. “If you knew, shame on you. And if you didn’t, then your unfamiliarity with our founding rules is worrisome. The only people the guard will be arresting are the ousted members sitting in the revered council seats.”

  “I think we’re just about done here.” Draven took Lanae’s hand, the ember-like heat of his touch grounding her.

  “I still did not give my permission for your marriage,” Lanae’s mother interjected, her voice tight with disapproval, slicing through the air like an icy blade.

  Caelum stepped to Lanae’s side, his presence a comforting warmth against her own chilled resolve. “I gave permission for them to marry.” His voice rang through the chamber, echoing off the oak walls as his gaze pierced his mother’s. The intensity of his words seemed to vibrate in her bones. “And according to the law, as the sole surviving male head of the household, my blessing stands.” He glanced at Draven, a hint of a smile playing across his lips. “Besides, I couldn’t ask for a better brother-in-law.”

  They left with the confrontation still thick in the room, but Lanae paused at the door. The scent of old parchment and the woodsy aroma of the Citadel filled her nostrils. “And if you ever wish to be welcomed back into my home, Mother, you’d better fix that attitude.”

  “It’s my home,” she stated with her chin jutted out, her eyes narrowing like a predator’s.

  “Not according to the paid-off deed. It’s in our name and has been since the year after you disappeared,” Caelum answered, his voice a mixture of finality and disdain. “But you’re welcome to visit,” he called out over his shoulder, the words hanging in the still air.

  Silence fell over the room, thick and oppressive, broken only by the sounds of shuffling feet. As the entourage of support disbanded, Lanae’s knotted stomach finally released, the tension draining away like sand through an hourglass.

  The moment they stepped out of the Citadel, the cool breeze kissed Lanae’s flushed cheeks, and the scent of earth and smoke filled her lungs.

  Caelum turned to them, his expression softening. “I’m sorry about how our mother treated you, Draven.”

  “I’ll get over it,” he replied, but Lanae sensed his disappointment as acutely as her own, a shared ache in her chest.

  “Since we are no longer just soldiers, I guess we should go visit the wounded and start planning what to do with the dead.” Lanae scanned the battle-ridden streets surrounding them, the sights of scorched earth and fallen comrades searing into her memory.

  Draven grumbled and gave her a burning look that told her exactly where he wanted to be, but he nodded anyway. “What did they do with Nero’s body?” he asked Caelum.

  “He’s with the rest of the dead. They used the cavern you created on the training field for the bodies of our soldiers,” Caelum said, his voice heavy with sorrow.

  “And what of the enemy soldiers?” Lanae asked. Her heart beat like a rabbit’s in her chest.

  Both Caelum and Jenna grimaced. “The council ordered their heads put on spikes outside the city gates.”

  “Absolutely not,” Draven growled, his eyes blazing with fury. His gaze moved to Granger. “If there are posts being erected, take them down and bring the bodies to the training field.”

  Warmth filled her at Draven’s words. If he hadn’t made the request, she would have. Most of the enemy soldiers were not fighting of their own volition. They should not be treated like true enemies of Solstice City. Spric was another matter, but even he did not deserve to be dismembered and displayed as a warning. “They will have their own burial plot in the fields, separate from our people, but honored nonetheless,” Lanae added.

  “Yes, Your Majesties.” Granger bowed and instructed half a dozen soldiers to follow through on the request, their armor clinking as they moved.

  Lanae blinked and watched as the guards marched away. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to being called Your Majesty.”

  Draven chuckled. “Likewise.” He threaded her arm through his and leaned close. “I would have rather gone back to a bath.” His eyes glimmered with the promise of what might have been before shuttering down with their current duty.

  AS THEY DREW CLOSER to the field, a wave of scents and sights hit Draven with a force he had not prepared for. Instead of funeral pyres, they had a funeral pit full of dead bodies, lined with freshly cut flowers. The stench of death mingled with the cloying aromas of roses, lilacs, and lilies, along with an undertone of spiced oils. Each breath was a mix of sweetness and decay, a haunting signal of both life and death.

  Family and friends of the dead gathered, their faces etched with grief and solemnity. The air, thick with mourning and sorrow, pressed its unrelenting burden on Draven’s shoulders. As he and Lanae stopped near the head of the trench where Nero lay apart from the rest, the people surrounding them dropped to their knees in respect. Their armor scraping against the earth was like a collective sigh of reverence.

  “Please. No kneeling. Not here where we should give the dead our respect rather than me.” Draven’s voice wavered as he spoke, the raw emotion thickening his throat. He dropped to his knee by Nero’s form, his hand trembling as he ran it over the griffin’s soft feathers. He plucked a handful of feathers and handed them to Lanae as keepsakes. A familiar and final connection to their loyal companion. “Thank you, my friend. I wish you well in the halls of the afterlife. We will see you again someday.”

  Draven’s heart ached as he stepped back, allowing Lanae and Caelum to say their teary goodbyes. He watched as their faces contorted with grief, their tears mixing with the earth beneath them. The sight tore at his soul, the collective loss enveloping him.

  He then moved the griffin into the funeral pit, the weight of Nero’s body a physical manifestation of his own emotional burden. As he lowered the griffin into the grave, the mingling scents of flowers and death seemed to fill every part of him, a poignant token of the sacrifices made and the lives lost.

  “May you all celebrate victory in the afterlife.” Draven’s voice rang out over the crowd.

  The people responded with a roar, a cacophony of grief and pride that resonated deep within him. A pile of unlit torches sat to the side of a golden bowl of burning oil, their wooden handles rough against the fingers of those who reached for them. One by one, family members grabbed a piece of wood, lit it in the burning oil, and tossed it onto the bodies. The smell of burning wood mixed with the sweet and pungent aromas of flowers and spiced oils, creating a funeral blend that burdened the area.

 

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