Crimson Dragon Prince

Chapter 3 - The Shifting Tide

The council room felt suffocating.

Rowen sat at the head of the obsidian table, his fingers drumming lightly against its dark surface, though his mind was elsewhere. The elder dragons around him droned on about the Fae alliance—again. Lords and ladies, promises and pacts, politics that felt like a never-ending dance of obligations and duty. Rowen’s thoughts barely grazed the words being spoken, his amber eyes distant, unfocused. His dragon stirred within him, a restless whisper at the edge of his mind.

He was still distracted. The meeting was a waste of time, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to speak up, to end it. He let them talk, because they would anyway. They always did. But a cold sensation crept over him, a quiet discomfort that tightened his chest. His dragon’s unease was growing. He could feel it, pressing against his skin like the weight of a storm that hadn’t yet broken.

There was a shift in the air, subtle but undeniable. A flicker in the room, like a brief, almost imperceptible jolt in the flow of energy. It wasn’t the magic of the council or the elder dragons’ presence, nor was it the political machinations that filled the room—it was something else. Something that didn’t belong.

Rowen’s sharp gaze flicked over the table, but he saw nothing out of place. The room was as it always was—dim, cold, filled with the hum of ancient power. Yet the feeling lingered. His dragon’s low growl echoed in the back of his mind, a warning of something unspoken. The air was thickening. Magic was building, but not in any way he understood.

Elder Myrth’s voice broke through the haze of Rowen’s thoughts.

“Your Highness,” Myrth’s deep voice rumbled, “are you even listening?”

Rowen blinked and refocused, giving a faint nod of acknowledgment, though his attention was elsewhere. “Yes, of course.”

Myrth didn’t look convinced. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Then perhaps you could provide some input. This meeting concerns you more than any of us. The union with the Fae is not merely a formality; it is essential for the stability of the realm. We cannot afford delays.”

Rowen’s jaw tightened. He hated hearing those words—essential. That wasn’t a marriage; it was a transaction, a forced union with Princess Selene of the Fae, and Rowen had no interest in playing the part of a political pawn. The thought of binding himself to someone he hardly knew, for the sake of an alliance, filled him with a cold sense of dread.

“Yes,” Rowen finally said, his voice flat. The alliance will be secured. There is no other option.”

The silence that followed felt oppressive, the elder dragons around him exchanging glances, unsure if Rowen’s tone was frustration or resignation. It didn’t matter. It was the same answer they had all heard before.

But then, a sudden, overwhelming sensation washed over him—an intense, visceral feeling like the ground beneath him had shifted without warning. His dragon roared inside his chest, furious, unsettled. Rowen’s heart beat faster, and his hand clenched into a fist. Something was wrong.

He pushed back from the table, standing abruptly. His amber eyes flashed with irritation as he scanned the room. No one else seemed to notice. The elder dragons continued to speak in muted voices, their discussions moving along as though nothing had changed. But Rowen could feel it. The air was thickening. Magic was building, but not in any way he understood.

“Excuse me,” Rowen said sharply, cutting through the conversation like a knife. He didn’t wait for a response, turning and striding toward the doors.

“Where are you going, my prince?” Elder Caelum’s voice called after him.

Rowen didn’t stop. He didn’t answer. He had to get away, away from the room, away from the suffocating weight of their expectations. His mind was spinning. The shift, the sensation of something changing, had become impossible to ignore.

The stone corridors of the palace were empty, eerily quiet, as Rowen made his way toward the nearest exit. The light from the grand windows fell in soft streams, illuminating the intricate carvings along the walls, but it did little to ease the gnawing discomfort in his chest.

His dragon was still restless inside him, scratching at the walls of his mind. Rowen’s thoughts raced. Something had happened, but what? It was as though the very fabric of the world had been altered, and he was feeling the reverberations. A sense of power was stirring in a way he couldn’t place. He didn’t know what it was, only that it was dangerous.

Rowen stepped into the courtyard, the cool breeze a welcome relief from the stifling tension that had been building in his chest. The courtyard was bathed in the soft light of dusk, the air crisp with the scent of wet stone and the distant scent of flowers from the gardens beyond. The world seemed normal here, calm, untouched by whatever had stirred inside him.

He paused for a moment, trying to clear his mind, to understand what he was feeling. The disturbance hadn’t been caused by any magic he could trace. It was as though the very fabric of the world had been altered, and he was feeling the reverberations.

Just as Rowen was about to turn back inside, the heavy wooden doors swung open, and a voice called to him. A voice he would know anywhere.

“Rowen.”

Princess Selene entered the courtyard, her long lavender robes sweeping the ground behind her, her presence commanding. Her beauty, so often cold and distant, was now paired with a sharpness that caught Rowen off guard. Her pale lavender eyes flicked toward him, a small, neutral smile curving her lips.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Selene said, her voice soft yet clear. “I’m simply visiting.”

Rowen glanced at her, a flicker of annoyance stirring inside him. "Of course not," he replied, his tone clipped.

She tilted her head slightly, as though studying him. “Is something on your mind, Rowen? You seem… distracted.”

Rowen stiffened. He hadn’t meant to show any sign of weakness in front of her, but it seemed as if Selene had a way of noticing everything, especially when it was least convenient.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice sharper than he intended. “Just a long meeting.”

Selene’s smile didn’t waver. “I can imagine. Your council does tend to go on forever.”

Rowen couldn’t suppress the small, frustrated sigh that escaped his lips. He didn’t feel like engaging with her right now, not with the strange feeling still gnawing at his thoughts.

She stepped closer, her gaze lingering on him. “I’m only here to speak with you briefly, Rowen. No other reason. You can relax.”

Rowen nodded stiffly, unsure what else to say. Selene had always been polite, always controlled. She had been his duty for years now, but it was hard to remember a time when they were anything but strangers bound by politics. Even now, in her presence, the unease in his chest wouldn’t settle.