Draconis' Bane Read Free

that pomp.” She said
calmly and slightly bemused at his act. “Is he harmed?”
    The Swordmaster
chuckled darkly. “Only his pride.” He said with a shake of his
head.
    “Humph.” She replied.
“He could use a little less of that anyway I suppose.”
    “Indeed Ma’am.” He
replied.
    The Queen looked her
son up and down, and finally sighed. “Wake him.”
    Fallon smiled
sadistically and walked over to the washroom. He used the pump to
fill a small bucket of cold water. The iron rings and grommets
groaned slightly as he filled it to nearly overflowing, intending
to enjoy his duty. The Queen laughed in spite of her mood as the
Swordmaster walked back into the bedroom making a show of the
bucket being heavy.
    Fallon wasn’t as
typical servant of the Crown. He’d once been a slave and the King
had purchased and freed him. King Dion had long held slavery as the
worst invention mankind had ever orchestrated. When he’d offered
the Swordmaster a post in his army, Fallon had quickly agreed. At
the time, it had been the best opportunity for a slave turned
freeman. Looking back, Fallon had wanted to earn Dion’s respect.
Still, old habits die hard and the old Swordmaster had never been
the placating servant some of his peers had been.
    He hefted the bucket
high over his head and glanced mischievously at his Queen. She
nodded once, smiling despite her aggravation.
    Tristan cursed loudly
as he sputtered and spit out water that had found its way into his
slack mouth. He flailed about on the bed, uttering threats as he
often did when forced to do or learn something he didn’t wish to.
He opened his eyes and became silent as the grave as he stared up
at his mother.
    The Queen wasn’t a
very foreboding looking woman; she was of average height with a
slim build and long dark hair. Though her green eyes communicated
her anger clearly enough. Her voice hid the anger behind
disappointment.
    “What in the Gods
names were you thinking, Mykl?” She asked calmly, invoking the pet
name she used for all of her children.
    Tristan had the good
grace to avert his eyes from hers.
    “You could have
killed him.” She continued. “My nephew.” She accused.
    Tristan couldn’t make
eye contact with her. Fallon looked on, feeling sympathy for his
young charge despite his many faults.
    “Just what were you
trying to prove?” She said with rising anger. “Your sister’s honor
is perfectly safe and even if it wasn’t, her virtue is mine to
protect. You, your overblown ego and your sense of entitlement are
going to get you killed and I’d rather not burn your body thank you very much.”
    Fallon felt supremely
uncomfortable being in the room with them and doubly so due to his
mother having similar words with him as a youngster. He felt the
Queen was being a little harsh though. If Eurydice had been his
sister he couldn’t honestly claim he would have done any
differently. Be that as it may, he was a soldier and not a Prince.
For Tristan, the stakes were higher, which was probably why the
young man rebelled so regularly. Fallon knew that the
responsibilities of office were something the young Prince never
wanted. The young man tried his best to hide it, but the weight of
other men’s lives depending on his decision frightened him.
    “Another stunt like
that and I’ll have you tossed into the bay!” She yelled, finally
allowing her anger to show. “Have his wounds cleaned and dressed
then bring him to afternoon court. I’ll let his father met out the
punishment.” The Queen ordered as she stormed out of the room in a
flurry of hair and dress.
    Fallon had never seen
the Prince ashamed of himself before. The old Swordmaster wasn’t
sure he liked the sight to be perfectly honest.
    In mere moments there
was a knock at the door and the nurse came in to dress the Princes
superficial wounds. She clicked her tongue impatiently as she
dressed the dozen or so small abrasions. Within the hour the Prince
was dressed and summoned for