“I am a beast in the sky, aren’t I?” Trugg clapped his friends on their backs, sending Jyn into Kol’s chest, and then wandered over to peruse the sad remains of the mead barrels.
The song was a blend of pounding drums and wailing violins, but Kol couldn’t find the energy to keep up the pace. Not with the weight of his impending confrontation with Father sitting like a rock on his chest. Instead, he closed his eyes, held Jyn loosely, and swayed while his thoughts circled the situation.
Mother would frown, more because Kol had once again fallen short of what was expected of a prince of Eldr than because he’d been expelled, but later he’d make her laugh as he recounted the story of sealing Master Eiler in his toilet closet.
Rag would look silently superior, and Kol would be honor bound to punch him for it later.
And Father . . . Father wasn’t likely to ask Master Eiler to reinstate Kol this time. Not when the chance to redeem himself and graduate with honors was no longer a possibility. No, Kol would be sent to the war front to learn responsibility or die trying. Father had threatened as much before, but Mother had intervened.
Kol was certain no intervention in the sky above could sway Father this time. He should be afraid of what was coming. He should be making plans to plead his case. Instead, there was relief—a sort of shaky calm at the thought of finally facing the threat that had hung over Kol like a blade for the past two years.
Behind him, the storeroom door flew open with a bang. Kol turned, his stomach rising up to meet the weight on his chest, his shaky calm evaporating, and met the gaze of a harried-looking castle page.
“The presence of His Royal Majesty Prince Kolvanismir is requested in the throne room.”
He followed the page into the long stone hallway that bisected the castle’s basement, his twin hearts pounding miserably in his chest.
What would Father say if Kol admitted he’d pulled the prank—the epic, legendary, worthy-of-record-books prank—because every other honor in the school had already been earned three years ago by Rag?
His boots scraped the steps as he ascended the stairs and entered the hall that led to the throne room. The long stretch of bronze stone, cooled by the breeze that entered through the open balconies lining the hall, overlooked the spacious castle grounds.
When the enormous throne room doors with their carved runes and golden handles loomed before him, Kol’s spine snapped into the ridiculously rigid posture Master Eiler demanded of his cadets. The doors began to open, and suddenly the headmaster himself was there, stepping past the page and wrapping an arm around Kol’s stiff shoulders. Kol jerked back, but the words he wanted to snap at the headmaster for interfering with the meeting Kol was about to have died when he looked into Master Eiler’s face.
“Come with me,” the headmaster said softly as he turned the prince away from the doors. A maid stumbled out of the room, her hands pressed to her mouth, and ran down the hall.
Kol’s blood felt too thick for his veins, and his knees began to shake.
“What’s going on?” Kol pulled away from the headmaster, his palms slick with sweat, his dragon heart kicking louder than his human heart as if it sensed a threat Kol had yet to identify.
Master Eiler’s green eyes were puffy, his face pale. “You don’t need to go in there.”
“Why not? Father already convinced you to reinstate me?” Kol’s voice was too loud, his breathing too hard as the dragon fire in his chest rumbled. More staff exited the throne room, their faces stricken.
The headmaster’s voice held a wealth of grief. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but ogres attacked the reserve unit while your family was asleep in their tent. Your father is dead.”
Kol’s ears thundered with the beat of his dragon heart, and it was difficult to breathe. “That’s not . . . It can’t be.”
“I’m sorry.” The headmaster’s tone left no room for doubt. Kol’s legs suddenly felt too weak to hold him.
“Where is my mother? She’ll need me with her.” Kol craned his neck, looking toward the throne room. “She’ll need Rag, Brig, and me.”
“Kol.” Master Eiler sounded old for the first time in all the years Kol had known him. His rigid military posture sagged, and he leaned heavily against the balcony’s railing. “They were all killed. Your father, your mother, and Prince Ragvanisnar . . . they’re gone.”
“No.” Kol took a shaky step away from the headmaster. “There’s been a mistake.”
“I’m afraid not. I just saw their bodies.” The headmaster glanced at the throne room, and then whipped a hand out to stop Kol as he stumbled forward like he meant to see for himself. “You don’t want to see them like that, my king.”
King.
Kol shook his head, a violent denial that did nothing to soften the headmaster’s next words.