The Dragonprince's Heir Read Free

messenger?"
    Caleb raised a hand and pressed two fingers to his scalp. Then he showed the bright blood to my mother without ever turning. "This is their message," he said.
    "There must be some misunderstanding," she said.
    He shook his head. "I warned you this could be Timmon's true intent. I only wonder why they have not yet charged. Three hundred Green Eagles and the wizards who broke our gate could clear this courtyard in less time than it would take you to get back inside ."
    "Then I have nothing to gain by trying," she said. "Caleb, I do not want these men to die."
    "Nor do I," Caleb said. "But I have trained them all to die well." He raised his voice on the last two words, and all around us—throughout the three squares of waiting swordsmen—nearly a thousand voices raised up in a synchronized grunt, "Hrah!"
    "No," Mother said. "You cannot destroy his whole army, no matter how dedicated these good men."
    Caleb's lips peeled back from his teeth. "I would like to try."
    "No," she said again. "Not now. The dying is over, Caleb. We did not bring these people safely through the nightmare of the dragonswarm only to throw them against the spears of the rightful king. We will meet with him."
    Caleb dared not defy that pronouncement. Instead he turned his attention back to the gate. A moment later, a new sound broke the silence over the courtyard. It was the shuffling clatter-clop of a single horse moving at an idle walk. Even as I recognized it, a chill breeze sprang up within the courtyard and washed out through the gateway, gusting away the honey-colored dust still heavy in the air without.
    It revealed a magnificent horse dressed in barding of violet and gold, and on its back rode the straight-backed, frail form of the king I had seen before. He wore the crown of gold on his head and carried a jeweled scepter in his right hand. It might have been shaped like a mace, but even draped in gold it was not heavy enough to use as a true weapon. It was a trinket. Unarmored and unarmed, he came alone into our fortress.
    The horse walked unhurried toward the formation of shield-bearers. I saw all of them turning, nervous, throwing questioning looks back at Caleb. He growled under his breath and opened his mouth to shout an order.
    "Caleb," Mother said, and he choked on his own bellow. "This is a matter for me to resolve."
    "Give him ten paces and it's a matter for the pikemen to resolve," Caleb said.
    Mother only shook her head. "You never truly listened, did you?"
    The king reached the line of shield-bearers, and he did not slow. The front line automatically withdrew, respectful, opening a path for the king. The king never even glanced at them.
    Caleb growled. "Oh, I listened. But I think Daven gave too much credit to the wizards' magic."
    "There is magic," Mother said, "and there is politics." She stepped up beside Caleb, moving out from behind him for the first time, and he gave another disapproving growl at that. But he did not challenge her in public. Mother stepped forward once more, one pace behind the forward square of swordsmen, and she raised her voice.
    "Your Majesty, we give you welcome. Come."
    An irritated huff escaped Caleb's nostrils, then he barked, "Rest!" and every soldier on the courtyard fell to one knee. They moved with perfect precision, and I knew from my own training it was a move meant to clear a line of fire for archers in the rear. But here and now it looked like a grand show of respect.
    For his part, the old king smiled across the courtyard. He raised a hand to Mother, and the scepter glinted in the sun. My mother went forward to meet him halfway.
    I started immediately after her, but I made it less than a pace before Caleb slapped his left hand down and caught me in the chest. It stopped me hard and drove the breath from my lungs. "Not you," he said. "Get inside."
    "But—"
    He spun, fast as lightning, and took a knee facing me. Even kneeling he nearly came eye-to-eye with me. "This is not a suggestion,