Page 111 of Courting the Dragon King

They were married. They had time. Or so he had thought. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does actually,” she said. “Love holds a great deal of power.”

Wraith frowned. “What do you mean b⁠—”

“Come.” She strode away, leaving her room and walking down the corridor.

Wraith followed her, Umbra at his side.

Wraith frowned. “You don’t seem surprised that this has happened.”

“I am not,” she said. “The dragons have always hated our kind. But King Konrad’s hatred of us is extreme, even for them.” She looked at him. “We will not forgive how they have treated you. The shadow king will agree with me on this.”

They approached the door that led from their rooms. Eight living Necros guards stood at attention. They were the first people he’d seen, other than his mother, since he entered these quarters.

Wraith stopped as they drew closer to the door. “The Draconians will be looking for me. They will take me prisoner if they find me. We can’t leave these rooms.”

The shadow queen pulled her shoulders back. “I will not allow my son to be a Draconian prisoner.” She looked to the guards. “You will escort and protect us.”

The guards flanked them as they left. Wraith glanced around furtively. His mother might feel confident wandering around and potentially coming across Draconians. But Wraith did not.

Would they be the cause of fighting in the White Monastery? Would these hallowed halls that had been dedicated to achieving peace be stained by spilled blood today?

His mother led him down different halls, corridors, and passages, up and down stairs, turning and twisting and going through doors. Wraith was already lost and would have no chance of finding his way back to the Necros royal family’s quarters.

“Where are we going?” Wraith asked.

“We are joining the rest of the family.”

They turned another corner. Wide stairs led downwards. Torches hung along the wall lining the staircase. Wraith’s skin tingled with awareness. “This leads to a place of death.”

“Yes.” Then she lifted her skirts and walked down the stairs.

For a second, Wraith hesitated. Why were they here? What was going on? He followed his mother. Umbra kept glancing around, clearly as uncertain as Wraith.

One of the guards ran forward and opened a door that stood at the bottom of the stairs. A long corridor lay beyond. More torches lit the way. But even with them, the corridor held so much darkness. And it seemed to just go on and on.

His mother paused. She looked at Umbra. “It’s probably best to send her away. She won’t be needed.”

Wraith hesitated. His mother raised a brow. Wraith didn’t want to send Umbra away. But he also did not wish to displease his mother. Not now when he needed her.

Wraith knelt beside Umbra and patted her head. “I’ll see you soon. Thank you for saving me back there. I love you.” Then he said, “Depart, Umbra.” He pushed his will into the words, making it an order.

Umbra barked and then disappeared.

For several moments, they walked in silence down the corridor.

“You have a choice now, Wraith, and an opportunity to fulfil your true potential and prove yourself loyal to Necros,” his mother said. “Your husband, the king of Draconia, has turned against you. He betrayed you. Now you must decide who you want to be and who you will stand with.”

Their footsteps echoed. The corridor turned. Wraith sucked in a breath. The room opened up into a large crypt. Row after row of limestone tombs filled the room. Furthermore, there were niches in the walls with plaques where more bodies had been laid to rest. This was the death he sensed.

But that wasn’t what had stolen Wraith’s breath. No. That was the undead army standing before him. Reanimated skeletons and corpses and dread knights filled the crypt.

“What? How are they here?” Wraith knew they weren’t meant to have any of their undead army at the White Monastery. And there had to be over three hundred reanimated skeletons and corpses and at least fifty dread knights.

Gerard had talked about the difficulties of getting the grand shield to allow more Draconian guards into the White Monastery. They’d had to sign contracts. There was no way the grand shield would have allowed this undead army.

At the back of the crypt, where Wraith and his mother had entered, the stone ceiling hung low. Wraith could almost reach up and touch it. But as the room stretched forwards, the ceiling opened up, going higher and higher until it reached the front, where a massive glass window took up two thirds of the brick wall.