Page 10 of Courting the Dragon King

The shadow king scoffed. “Your best. Unfortunately your best is so often lacking. At least try not to behave oddly. Stop staring at walls and getting distracted by nothing. It’s beneath a royal of Necros.”

“Of course. I will try, Your Majesty.” Wraith inclined his head.

“You will do more than try,” the shadow king spat. “In the coming days, I expect you will amend your behaviour to be suitable enough so that King Konrad does not cast you aside in repulsion.” He paused. “Just act with dignity. For once.”

The shadow king stared at Wraith. Wraith’s throat convulsed.

“Your very existence has always been a thorn in my side. Do not fail at this.” Then, with a swirl of his robes, the shadow king stormed from the room.

Wraith let out a breath as the door clicked shut. He collapsed onto a chair. A second later, Umbra reappeared. She whined and rested her head on Wraith’s lap. Wraith stroked his fingers through her foggy fur.

“He is so mean to you! I’m so sorry he is so mean to you.” Umbra’s tail hung low.

“I’m all right.” Wraith tried to smile. “I’m just not used to him looking or talking to me.”

Umbra licked at his fingers with her cold tongue.

“I’ll be okay. I promise.” For Wraith’s entire life, the shadow king had barely even looked at Wraith. And when he had, it was with so much abhorrence and rage that Wraith preferred to be ignored.

In his early years, he’d not known what he’d done to earn such loathing. He knew now.

Unfortunately, the king’s displeasure at Wraith’s existence had been known by all the nobles and royals of Necros. They had taken their king’s lead, ignoring or scorning Wraith, despite never knowing the reason why.

Wraith’s peculiarities, a result of his powers, only added to him being further ostracised. Unlike many other necromancers, his abilities had never been to raise or control the dead.

No. Wraith was a psychopomp. A reaper. He led spirits who did not pass over on their own to the other side. In years long past, reapers were revered, respected, and honoured for their ability to allow the dead to properly rest.

But truth was, his powers to lead people to the next world had not been so helpful during the war. Then they had needed necromancers to raise the dead and make them fight. Wraith’s powers did not work like that. Although, he had still been a part of the war effort. His skills could still be utilised.

But being a reaper meant that he’d existed between life and death. Across two worlds. And that had always seemed to make him peculiar, even to other necromancers.

“Maybe the people in our new home will find me less odd and dislike me less,” Wraith whispered.

“I’m sure they will. They will know you and won’t be able to help loving you!” Umbra said. “You’re wonderful!”

Wraith wrapped his arms around Umbra. He wasn’t so certain. Still, he hoped.

He left his room, Umbra trotting along beside him. He couldn’t bring himself to dismiss her. He needed her support tonight. His siblings lounged in the sitting room.

Vex’s nose wrinkled. “I can’t wait to be back in Necros. I despise everyone here.”

Harrow sipped his tea. Then he lifted his gaze to the door. His eyes narrowed. “Wraith, stop lurking around like a fucking ghost! Go haunt some other part of the monastery.”

The two broke out in laughter. Wraith rushed on.

They, like the rest of Necros, had followed their father’s lead. But as a child, he’d never understood why they wanted nothing to do with their younger brother.

He slowed as he passed the open door to his mother’s room. She sat at her vanity. She shook and threw human finger bones. They rattled as they settled on the wood. She tilted her head, reading the bones.

“Come in, Wraith,” she called, not looking in his direction.

“Wait here,” he said to Umbra. Then, ducking his head, he entered her room. He stopped behind her. He held his breath, uncertain if she would find him lacking or not today.

She studied him with her cool grey eyes. “You look suitable for your betrothal ball.”

“I am glad I am up to standard.” His mother was the only person in his family who tolerated him. Not that she was particularly affectionate or caring.

She glanced back at the bones. She held her hand over them, her fingers twitching. “Critical days lay before us. What comes to pass will influence the future of Necros.”