CHAPTER 55: THE GAME BEGINS

The day after Aeron had first been brought to the palace was supposed to be the day of his judgment. That was what they told him, the council would gather, and the king would hear what was to be done with him. But that day came, and a messenger arrived saying the session had been postponed.

Some council members had claimed they could not attend, and the first to make such an excuse was none other than Lord Voryn Vanýr himself. Without the full council present, the king decided to delay the matter.

And so, Aeron stayed.

One day became two, two became seven, and before long, the weeks were passing by. He found himself in the palace far longer than he had expected. The longer he stayed, the more he missed home, his mother, his friends, and, most of all, Draco.

Whenever he could, he would write letters to his mother. Sometimes they reached her, and she would write back. But other times, no reply came at all. In many of his letters, Aeron asked her about his father, who he was, what kind of man he had been, and why he had died in the capital. His mother had once told him his father had breathed his last within these city walls, and Aeron was determined to know the truth.

But on the rare occasion she did respond to those questions, her answer was strange. She warned him that by asking such things in writing, he was putting himself in danger. She wrote that he had already "invited trouble" by sending those letters and revealing too much about himself.

Aeron didn’t understand what she meant. To him, they were just questions, harmless words on paper. What he didn’t know was that the capital was a place of secrets and manipulation. He didn’t know that most of his letters, if not all, had been intercepted before reaching their destination.

When he wasn’t writing to her, Aeron would write to Ronan and Yvarra, his friends from home. He’d ask after Draco, and their replies always made him worry. Draco, they said, was not the same. He barely ate, spent long hours lying down, and seemed lost in thought.

Aeron’s heart ached reading those words. He would write back promising that he would return soon, telling them to watch over Draco until then. He didn’t know how soon "soon" would be, but he wanted to believe it wouldn’t be much longer.

Life in the palace slowly became a strange mix of confinement and discovery. Aeron learned more about the capital’s customs, its rigid decorum, and the rules that governed life among its nobles. He visited the royal library, walked through gardens that were older than the kingdom itself, and sometimes watched the Phoenix Guards, the elite warriors of the crown, practice in the training yards.

On some days, the captain would allow him to join their drills. Aeron found himself not just watching but taking part, and sparring with the Phoenix guards. He was getting better at swordfighting.

One afternoon, Aeron was in the palace training field, and his arms were already aching from hours of practice. Nyella was there too, standing at the edge of the field, and watched him spar with one of the Phoenix Guard.

From across the training grounds approached a tall young man. His fine clothes and polished boots stood out in the dusty field. It was Vaelen Vanýr, the only son of Lord Voryn Vanýr. He stopped several paces away, eyeing Aeron with a smirk.

"So," Vaelen began. "Is this the so-called Dragon Lord? Hmph... such a small body, an unrefined stance, and barely any skill worth speaking of." His gaze from Aeron’s hair to his boots.

Before Aeron could respond, Nyella stepped forward. "At least he’s not a pampered lord’s son who runs away at the first sign of trouble," she said.

Vaelen’s smirk deepened. "Your Highness," he said to Nyella with a slight bow, "you’re always out for me. I’m only here to greet the great savior of our kingdom."

Nyella crossed her arms. "That didn’t sound like a greeting, Vaelen. And I’ve told you more than once, you have terrible manners."

"Perhaps," Vaelen replied with a shrug, "but you might show me some respect. After all, I’m the man most likely to marry you."

Aeron blinked at that, caught off guard. Then he asked Nyella. "Who’s this person? You’ve never mentioned him before." She answered, in a low voice. "I never mentioned him because he wasn’t an important person. He’s the son of Lord Voryn Vanýr, the high chancellor of the realm.

"In addition to that, he’s a spoilt brat that doesn’t know how to act or talk." She added.

Vaelen said immediately. "First of all, I’m not spoilt. But then," he said looking at Aeron. "What’s this? That look on your face... don’t tell me there’s something between you two. How scandalous, the princess and the dragon rider, haha. What a magnificent little story that would be."

He stepped closer to Aeron and lowered his voice. "Sorry to disappoint, young dragon, but it’s going to be her and me. That’s already decided."

Nyella’s eyes narrowed. "It’s not, and you know it. It will never happen."

"Oh, it will," Vaelen said, a cold smile on his lips. "And no one will stop it. Whoever tries... well, they’ll vanish. Just like you will, young dragon. Very soon."

Aeron stiffened at the words. Nyella stepped forward. "What do you mean by that?"

Vaelen raised his brows as if surprised she didn’t know. "You haven’t heard? The council was called into urgent session today." He sounded like there was more to it.

Before Nyella could press him further, footsteps approached. Easter, one of the queen’s handmaidens, came running toward them. She stopped beside Nyella, slightly out of breath.

"Your Highness," she said, "Queen Serenya summons Aeron immediately."

Nyella frowned. "Why? What’s going on?"

"I don’t know," Esther replied. "She only said it was urgent."

Aeron glanced once at Nyella before following Esther across the field.

When they entered the queen’s chambers, Queen Serenya was already on her feet. She didn’t waste a moment on formalities.

"Aeron," she said firmly, "come with me. We must leave the palace at once."

He froze. "Leave? Why? What’s happening?"

Her voice lowered, but there was urgency. "You’re in danger. If you stay here any longer, you might not leave alive."

Aeron’s pulse quickened, a lot of questions were on his mind, but the queen was already moving toward a hidden passage behind a tall draped curtain. "There’s no time," she added. "Trust me, Aeron. We have to go. Now."

"..."