Kael
An entire day passes as I wait for word from the witches of Hexeton. I’d sent flyers–dragon warriors–into the skies to deliver a message for the queen–a summons.
If she accepts and agrees to meet with me, it will mark the first time in over five hundred years that a king of the dragons and a queen of the witches have stood on the same plot of soil and spoken. I’m aware of how momentous this is–not just the threat of the curse, but me breaking from the choking grip of Titus’s rule over Drakthor.
Ryker paces near the spiraling staircase leading up to the landing platform. It’s pouring rain, of course. There’s a bite in the air tonight that’s not usual for this time of year. It causes my skin to prickle, pebbling with gooseflesh as I wrap my arms tighter around my chest and lean aga
