Note: We are backtracking. I'm starting to fill in other characters. This chapter is meant to go between the current 17 and 18, but eventually this will be chapter 18 and everything will be renumbered. This chapter takes place from Tamara's POV right after Kane takes over (before Claire enters Dragonwall). 

Kastali Dun

Tamara's breaths were shallow as they made their way into the quiet streets of Kastali Dun. The difference in the capital was stark. She saw few roaming the streets, shutters locked tight. A heaviness permeated the air, the dread nearly tangible.

Flying over the city was no longer permitted. The drengr were required to enter through the gates, like everyone else. Byron kept a tight hold of her hand, leading her through one of the poorer districts. The drengr and riders of Fort Squall trailed behind them.

They'd been summoned. Ignoring it would have meant the end of dragon kind.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Byron muttered. She squeezed his hand.

"Your father would want you to do this," she whispered. "Reyr would want you to do this."

"Then why does it feel like I am betraying them."

"You are protecting the drengr race. There is no betrayal in that." If only believing her words was as easy as speaking them. The thought of swearing fealty to Kane was abhorrent.

The clatter of hooves and wheels made them stop, step aside. A large, barred wagon came into view, heading towards the docks. The sight of it, stuffed full of people, made ice slide over her skin. Soldiers on horseback wearing Oshean livery flanked the rear. "Stand back," they ordered, turning sneers upon them. She and Byron stepped further out of the way.

She stared in shock as the wagon trundled by. It was massive, a cage, more than anything, with people stuff together like livestock. "Please," a woman cried, reaching towards her, her face stained with tears. "I have children."

She took a step forward, only to be pulled back by Byron. "Careful," he warned, glancing towards the Oshean guards. "We have no power here."

Confusion warred with fear.

A man on horseback trotted somewhat behind, his gaze greedy and pleased. His clothes were different from the fashions worn in Dragonwall. An Oshean merchant, perhaps?

"You there," Byron said, grabbing the man's attention. "Who are those people? Where are you taking them?"

The man turned to scoff at them. "What's it to you, Drengr?" His words were heavily accented. Byron's gaze was hard, unrelenting. "Suppose there's no harm in telling you. They're bound for the slavers, if you must know. Criminals and such."

"The...the slavers?" she cried. Her heart began to race. He couldn't just—

"Don't you know, girl?" The man was quick to grin. The sight made her muscles lock up. "Slavery's legal, now. I paid a pretty steely to by them from the city's jail. Criminals don't deserve freedom."

"And what about when there aren't anymore criminals," Byron spat.

The man fussed at his sleeve, unconcerned. "There are always people eager to break the law." With that, he trotted off, catching up to the carriage.

"We have to do something," Fierran said, behind them.

"There is nothing we can do—for now." Storm clouds brewed in Byron's gaze. "We must do as we were ordered, or risk our kind. But...I will look into it. Now come, all of you."

***

The throne room was changed since the days of King Talon and Queen Claire. Every beautiful stained glass window had been shattered and replaced with depictions of the asarlaí. Black flags and Oshean livery decorated the rafters. A heavy presence of guards kept conversation to a dull murmur. It made tears spring to her eyes, to see it so diminished.

For weeks, rumors abounded over the absence of Claire and Talon. Byron had learned the truth of it months ago, but he'd sworn to Reyr to keep it a secret. They were forced to stay silent as the members of their fort grappled with confusion in the wake of Kane's assent to power. Why would their monarchs disappear? Why would they abandon them to a fate such as this?

The real reason was almost worse than wondering. It kept her up at night, sick with worry. Had the king found his mate? Had he gotten trapped in her world? Why else would he be gone so many months?

Maybe it was better this way. Tucked away in her world, Claire was safe from the monster who now sat before them.

"Come forward," Kane ordered. He lounged lazily on his throne, a hand fisted around the fifth dragon stone.

She shot a glance at Byron. His jaw was set. He led her to the base of the dais, where they were commanded to kneel and swear allegiance to the worst sort of person in the kingdom. Her gaze darted towards the guards on either side, standing proudly in their Oshean livery. It didn't feel real—none of it felt real. This was a fever dream, surely. It wasn't happening.

"Deep breaths, love." Byron's voice steadied her.

He went first, speaking the words of Kane's oath. "I, Byron the Blue, leader of Fort Squall, do so swear my loyalty to King Kane, to be true and faithful, to obey the law which he sets. To uphold order as befits his will. If I fail to keep my oath, my life is forfeit."

She repeated the words, in turn. They tasted sour on her tongue. The magic was binding. She felt it wrap around her heart, pulling tightly, chaining her. They might be only words, but from this day forward, they could not act directly against their new king.

One by one, each drengr and rider spoke the same words. She glanced around the room. Courtiers stood off to the sides, watching with defeated expressions. They had sworn oaths the day Kane ascended to power.

Fort Squall wasn't the first to pledge. Fort Lin had been summoned a week prior. Fort Edge would be here next week. Kane was careful to plan it accordingly, to keep the forts separated. He forbade them from visiting Fort Kastali whilst here. They were allowed to spend one night in the city, then they were expected to be on their way—

"We will not swear an oath." Dagen and Sandra stood before the dais, shoulders back, chins lifted. Her stomach squirmed at the sight. Byron swore under his breath. "I understand why my comrades must," Dagen said, "but we cannot."

"Dagen, don't do this," Bryon said. "They're just words. Your heart is what truly matters—"

"Dagen," Fierran growled in warning from beside them. Dagen and Sandra were two of the oldest remaining members of the fort. They'd nearly won the vote as fort leaders. She almost envied them. She wasn't brave enough to choose death over life, if it meant serving someone like Kane.

"It isn't brave, it's foolish," Byron pointed out.

"We would rather die than serve a tyrant," Dagen hissed, eyes locked on Kane. He ignored the pleas of his other fort members.

"Then die, you shall." Kane motioned and two guards stepped forward. "On your knees."

Her eyes widened as both Dagen and Sandra complied.

"No!" she whispered. This couldn't be happening. Surely they would change their minds, swear an oath. "No!"

Byron gripped her hand.

The Oshean guards stepped up behind them.

"Final chance," Kane taunted. "It makes no difference to me, whether you live or die. But your comrades seem to prefer you live."

"Dagen!" Byron warned. "I command you—"

"Get on with it, then," the aging drengr growled. Sandra reached for his hand. Were it not for the slight tremor in the way she latched on to him, she would have appeared unfazed.

Tamara stifled a sob.

"Very well. I condemn you to death. You will not receive a drengr's mourning. Your fellow comrades will not take to the skies to sing their song, nor will you be put to the flames. This I command. You may die." He gestured.

Swords lifted, glinting in the torchlight. She sucked in a breath. They were dark metal—ice metal.

"Look away, love," Bryon demanded. "Now."

"I—I can't."

Two blades cut through the air simultaneously. There was a sickening squelch as they met sinew and bone, slicing cleanly through. Sandra's head was the first to fall, blood spurting from her severed neck. Then Daren's followed, the light gone from his eyes. Only then did she squeeze her eyes shut. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She could not cry—not here.

The turmoil in Byron's mind slammed into her, nearly knocking her off her feet. She steadied her thoughts, then opened her eyes. Oshean guards dragged the bodies away, like this was some normal occurrence. How dare Kane deprive them of a proper burial?!

Byron fought the urge to shed his skin, to morph into a drengr and keen into the open sky.

The others fought it two.

Oaths were given by those who remained. She breathed a sigh of relief that no one else opposed the tyrant sitting on Talon's throne. She couldn't afford to witness another death today. Fort Squall had already lost too much.

***

Master Arden's office was cluttered with ledgers, parchment, broken quills, and the like, all stacked precariously on crates piled three and four high. The cabinet behind his desk held a shelf of liquor bottles, all mostly empty. Tamara took it in while Byron introduced himself, allowing the dock master to pour him a drink. She politely declined.

Arden himself was an older man, in his late forties or perhaps, early fifties. His skin showed signs of working outdoors, long hours spent in the sun. But he had kind eyes that crinkled. Not that he smiled much. None of them had reason to.

Her stomach hadn't stopped churning all day.

"Now, what can I do for you, Lord Byron?" He eyed them warily, as if simply being in the same room might get him into trouble. It was expected, given the climate. Drengr were no longer regarded as they once were. Kane was too quick to punish those suspected of treason, and the drengr were the most likely culprits for inciting it.

"I'm looking to get in touch with a certain merchant captain," Byron asked. "Goes by the name of Bennett. I'm told you might know when he was last here, or where he might be off to."

"What's this about?" Arden's eyes narrowed.

"He and my father were good...acquaintances. I had hoped to catch up with him, is all. I'm only in town for the night, and thought if he were here..."

Arden blew out a breath. "Things here have been dangerous, Lord Byron. I'm hardly master of my own port. Whatever your business with Bennett, I cannot let it come back to me. I got my wife and children to watch for, see."

"I have no interest in putting your family at risk. I simply wish to catch up with the man, is all. I swore an oath to the new king. I can't very well break it without his knowing."

"True. True. Very well then, I'll check." Arden flipped open a massive book on his desk, thumbing through the handwritten pages of his ledger. "Well, looks like you're in luck. Bennett arrived four days ago, dropped off and picked up some new cargo. He is set to depart in the morning. You might just catch him."

Bryon hid his relief behind a masked expression. "Any idea where he might be staying?"

"Where all the other sailors stay. Somewhere along the row here."

A fist banged on the door. "Arden, you're needed on dock twelve. One of the Oshean vessels are claiming—"

"Give me a moment," Arden roared, making Tamara jump. To them, he added, "Never a moment of peace. Well then, I think I must be off to sort things. A word of caution, while you're in this part of the city. It's the only area that doesn't have a curfew. But you should still be careful, nonetheless."

Byron thanked the man and they quickly rushed away, in search of the famed ship captain of the Lady Faith. The row of inns along the massive port were bustling. Each tavern was full of sailors from around Dragonwall and beyond. She saw Oceans walking freely and fought the urge to lash out at them.

They entered the nearest tavern, Belly Up. It was a wash of stale ale, sweaty bodies, and raucous laughter. Sailors didn't much care about politics. Clearly the change in rulers hadn't affected their mood.

"How will we find him?" Tamara managed, taking in the numerous bodies.

"You there," Byron reached for a serving girl, bringing her to a stop. "I'm looking for a fellow by the name of Captain Bennett. Know where I might find him?"

"What business does a drengr have with a ship's captain?" She eyed him.

"Just an old friend," Byron said, producing a silver. He slipped it into her palm.

Her brows lifted. "Well, he does like to frequent Nag's Head when he's here. But I haven't seen him in months."

"Nag's Head," he repeated.

"That's down the row a ways," she instructed, pocketing his silver.

They made their way down the row. Bennet wasn't at Nag's Head, but one of the barmaids there, a woman named Morita, was confident they'd find him at the Brickyard Inn, Marcy's place, on Port Right Lane, one street over. "I feel as if we're chasing geese," Tamara muttered, noticing the darkening sky.

The common room at the Brickyard Inn was a contrast to all the taverns they'd passed. It was quiet and comfortable. Patrons sat clustered on sofas, sipping tea. She glanced around, then felt a burst of recognition as Byron found what he was looking for.

"Can I help you, sir?" A young woman stepped forward. "Will you be wanting a room?"

"Just here to see a friend, thanks." Byron slipped her a silver and she took the hint, scurrying away.

Byron strode forward towards a group clustered near the window. It was obvious they were sailors. Her eyes caught on the woman, hair shorn short. She was uncommonly pretty.

"Captain Bennett?" Byron asked. The group quieted.

The ship captain looked them over and huffed. "Well, well, well." He looked at the others. "Leave us. You too, Cat." The female huffed, paying him an irritated glance, before striding upstairs. "Have a seat."

Byron pulled her down next to him, keeping a hold of her hand. "I'm not sure if you know who we are."

"I know exactly who you are," Bennett said, leaning back. "What I don't know, is why you sought me out." Tamara stared at his hair, fascinated. She hadn't known any sailors. She'd been raised in a lord's household. Her parents never allowed her near anyone or anything they deemed unsuitable.

"Wondered if you could tell me about something I saw earlier." Byron recounted their experience with the prison wagon, asking Bennett for whatever details he might have.

"Oshea thrives on slavery," Bennett explained. "It's been around since the dawn of their empire. They see our kingdom as an opportunity. Kane has legalized the export of slaves as part of his contract with the Oshean empire."

"He was taking women! Mothers," Tamara spat. "How can he get away with that?"

"Same way tyrants get away with anything else? He claims that only charged criminals are available for export. But anyone can be charged with anything, if you catch my drift."

"We catch it, all right." Byrons expression was murderous.

"Question is, what are you drengr folk willing to do about it?" Bennett leaned forward, a challenge in his gaze.

Byron rubbed a hand down his face. He suddenly looked so, so tired. It was a wonder they hadn't crumbled beneath their leadership roles.

There wasn't a whole lot they could do without acting out against the new king, without putting their oath, and thus, all of dragon kind at risk. But she felt the spark of an idea in Byron's mind. Felt the rush of adrenaline as he leaned forward and said, "I think I have an idea."

When she got a hint of what that idea was, for the first time all day, she grinned.

💕❤️💕Don't forget to vote for this chapter!❤️💕❤️

Hello Book Dragons!

As I near the end of the book, I'm finally starting to think about other characters and how their POVs play into the main story. I usually do this: I write Claire and Talon's storyline as the main storyline, and focus on them + whoever the book is named for (Jovari, in this case). Everththing else gets filled in as secondary support. 

Next chapter is a BONUS chapter because it's Bennett's POV and is on the shorter side, so I'll post that for you on Monday as a little pick-me-up :)

See you then!