I had always had difficulty containing my emotions, earning me the reputation in our family for being the hothead. But nothing had ever come close to the explosion of anger and fear, the protective rage I felt when Midris placed his hands on Denise and suggested an intimate assault. I was proud of her for not breaking down, for standing strong against his intimidations, but that pride was overshadowed by the all-consuming rage that took over my body.

After Denise destroyed his serum, I was ready to rip my arms off to break free and intervene if he had attacked her, but instead, he assumed a cold, contemplative expression.

When Midris ordered a cloak to cover Denise, I relaxed slightly, but only a little, because I knew whatever he was planning must take the awfulness to another level. He issued some quick instructions to Xantoc, who left the room briskly.

He turned then to Brinae, who looked absent-minded and spaced out. I wondered if part of this wasn’t willful, her attempt to psychologically distance herself from what her life had become.

“My queen, I think it is time we address our people, that they may witness how well you bear your condition and to apprise all of Dragselia about the traitorous actions of my brothers.”

Brinae stared off into space. “Yes, whatever he says will be fine with us,” she said rather nonsensically.

Midris’s voice boomed as palace staff and representatives of Dragselia’s state-controlled media filtered in, all trying to hide their shock as they saw me chained before the throne.

“Come forth, my faithful subjects, and bear witness to the greatness of your king.”

Ragal, Karun, and Zaruv were soon to join me. Faces swollen, they still stood tall as they were filed in and forced to kneel beside me, in a line before the throne. How had this come to pass? A few short months before, we had walked these halls free and privileged men. The thought of a credible threat to Dragselia on the scale such as this would have been laughable. But there was nothing to laugh at now.

Cameras angled to capture the events, gasps sounding through the crowd as we were slowly recognized. I heard the hushed murmurs as people questioned what was happening.

Dragselia was a country of solid tradition and assured punishment for those who broke the bounds of law, but this was barbarism and the people knew it. The guards who were aligned with Midris were obvious for their unblinking apathy to the situation.

But even in a kingdom where it was forbidden to question the king, there were things that went beyond the pale and aroused concern. The rest of the palace staff, many of whom had known us since boyhood or earlier, looked flabbergasted, regretful, and unsure. The guards who brought in my brothers were notably more considerate, not taking every opportunity to inflict more pain or humiliation. I knew they must be questioning the sanity of their king, though they were loyal to their oaths.

Though I had never envisioned this situation, it was predicated upon the exact issue I took with our government. In a land where the orders of the king and his council could not be held up to the standard of reason or morality, where he was considered infallible and above reproach, it was inevitable that we would one day have a king who abused his power and position.

A hush fell over the room as Midris, disguised as my brother Mulkaro, stood before the crowd that had been gathered and the cameras that would broadcast his address to the Dragselian nation.

“Greetings, my faithful subjects. You have been called today to bear witness. Before me are your princes, my beloved younger brothers. In accordance with our long-held traditions, in keeping with the Treaty of the Great Lords of Vahakun, in respect and submission to the will of all the mighty kings of Dragselia before me, I sent my brothers to live out their lives peacefully in exile.

“Despite knowing well the consequences of such an act, they have returned to the capital. Upon their reentry into our controlled air space, they were warned and told to return to the location of their exile. I even offered my men and resources for such an escort, but my brothers chose to betray me, to betray us all.”

Voices murmured, and hushed accusations and exclamations of disbelief sprang from the crowd as Midris continued.

“Worse yet, they brought with them human spies, and together with their hired mercenaries, they sought to infiltrate the royal palace. Fortunately, my guards interrupted their plot before they could harm my wife, your Queen Brinae, and our unborn child.”

The clamor grew as shouts of “Not the queen!” were heard, and I felt the burning intensity of their misplaced hostility. I looked to Brinae, who seemed unaffected and distant. The Bervane stone necklace she wore seemed more full of energy than her gaze.

“My beautiful, beloved wife and our child are thankfully thriving,” he said, placing a hand at the bewildered and awkwardly balanced Brinae’s stomach but not giving her an opportunity to speak.

Returning her to her maid, who helped her back into her chair, he turned back to the crowd.

“Before you today, you can see the evidence of their dissent, of their insubordination, their blatant disregard for the rule of Dragselian law. They would threaten the peace and stability of all Dragselian United Colonies, and such acts of aggression, no matter who makes them, cannot stand. I have called you all here today that you may witness their admission of this treasonous act.”

Midris then leveled a look at me, pregnant with meaning. Glancing aside to where Denise stood, with the large white hood and cloak obscuring her from view and making her look like just another servant in his employ, he licked his lips, and I knew clearly the choice he was giving me.

Of course, my conscience could not bear the thought of subjecting her to such harm, no matter the cost. I loved her. Every fiber in my body knew it, even if I hadn’t given voice to the intense feelings within me.

Still, I knew that with my brothers and me removed from the field, Midris’s path to total control was clear. Once the truth of it was known, there would be those who would rise up to fight him, but the odds they would face would be immeasurable.

It was an impossible situation. I had to save the woman I loved, but I also couldn’t bear the thought of surrendering the home that I loved to a monster.

The room had once again grown eerie with silence as Midris looked to me.

“Pavar, my youngest brother, confess now to your people. Confess your treason and your mutiny. Declare your loyalty. Pledge yourself to my service. Redeem yourself through your humility and your penance.”

I froze, looking to Denise, unable to see her shrouded eyes. It was an impossible question, the life of the woman I loved or the future of millions of people whose protection was my solemn duty.

As I knelt in defiant silence, Midris began to shake. At first, it appeared his anger was boiling over, and I prepared myself for the death order.

But then, something strange happened. He began to shift. But not to the dragon form of my brother Mulkaro, to his demon form.

Gasps and screams, and even shouts of terror, sounded throughout the room.

“The king has been poisoned!” cried one person.

“The Fire Gods unleash their wrath!” shouted another.

Everyone looked on, unable to tear their eyes from the scene.

It was like some kind of glitch as Midris’s great black wings and tightly curled horns seemed to appear and then disappear randomly, as if completely out of control.

I didn’t understand. I had watched him take his injection, but then the peal of cold laughter echoed through the chamber.

Brinae, in shimmering, flowing robes, her silver hair flowing about her luminescent pale pink face stood, pure joy in her eyes as she laughed.

“Dragselia! Behold the man who would be king!” she cried, her laughter dying as she looked at him with hollow eyes.

“You thought you could steal the man I love, our king, and replace him? You are a poor imposter, and even with the drugs your spies have pumped into me, my senses were not so diminished that I could not tell the difference between you and my beloved Mulkaro!”

She spat at him, and the room grew quiet, tense, no one knowing what to expect as Midris, moaning in the agony of his incomplete form, writhed on the floor at Brinae’s feet.

“You stole my husband, you took his essence, and you masqueraded about, a monster behind the mask. You will never touch nor harm me or any other member of this household, this kingdom, again. I’ve poisoned your supply, all of it, and you will die as the vile fiend you are,” she taunted him, touching her hand then to the Bervane stone at her neck.

For a moment, he began to shift into a different humanoid form from that of Mulkaro’s. I imagined it must have been the human form he had been able to project before, but it didn’t hold, and his body became a shifting, moving blur.

And then, finally, the chaos ended. Midris lay there, frozen and still, faceless and eyeless, only a thin slit where a mouth would be, his skin the alabaster of his Infernian body, his hair streaked black and brown, one horn sprouted, caught somewhere between all the forms he’d attempted to control.

His breath sucked in and out for a few stilted moments, and then nothing. Just like that, the Infernian Imposter was dead.

There was a beat, a hesitation, as everyone processed the reality of what they had witnessed, but it was quickly interrupted as the Infernians in Midris’s employ quickly shifted and fled, racing toward any and every exit.

As one, the Dragselians present fought back, unified in the knowledge that they had been deceived and eager to set things right. At the throne, I watched as Brinae grabbed Mulkaro’s sword from Midris’s lifeless body and turned, cleanly beheading the Infernian maid Midris had installed.

The soldiers who had secured my brothers quickly broke our restraints, apologizing profusely as they did, and together, we all shifted into our dragon forms, pursuing the Infernians who had made it past the crowd.

Flying once more, even injured as I was, through the skies of Dragselia was an incredible relief.

There were six Infernians who had made it out of the palace, leaping to the air and attempting to flee on wings.

Palace shooters, positioned in the nests of the watchtowers, took out two of them, sending them dropping out of the sky as soldiers rushed to secure them.

I kept my focus on one in particular, with bile green- and white- splotched skin, a mane of white hair, and flaky looking white wings. I pursued the one who had tormented Denise.

Shooting backward at me with some kind of pulsor, he attempted to lose me in the modern high-rise buildings of the business district of Vahakun, but I had grown up flying these skies, had mapped this city a thousand times over, and he would not shake me off.

He was fast but maneuvered poorly, and by anticipating his flight path, I intercepted him, forcing him back toward the palace.

Zaruv, his bronze dragon form glistening in the Dragselian sun, hovered over the Palace courtyard. I knew I could engage him in combat and that I would likely win, but after what he had put Denise through, what he was willing to help Midris do to her, I needed to know he was gone.

I feinted low and fell to the ground, pretending to collapse, injured. Xantoc, the sadist that he was, instead of fleeing, dove at me in an attempt to take me out.

He landed, his claws slamming into the tile as he approached me. “Well, at least I can take out one prince before the end,” he said, relishing the sentiment.

I rolled toward him, pouncing to my feet again, and I enjoyed the momentary look of surprise on his face before Zaruv caught him by a shoulder and ripped his head off in a single fell swoop of his free claw.

Karun and Ragal landed in the courtyard with us, all of us shifting and allowing our victory to sink in.