Chapter Four
Indulf
After sending Anna away, Indulf ordered for the generals to be gathered in his war room and sent Warmund away. He finished his meal, his mind churning over the possibilities his son had brought up. If Anna was from the future, then had she even come here on purpose? It would explain the strangeness of her. The clothes, the hair, her way of speaking. What did ‘kinky’ mean anyway?
Humans were fluid. They changed rapidly. Their culture was different from one century to the next, and their technologies and magic developed at a pace that was, at times, frightening to behold. If there were any species that might one day unlock the secrets of time travel, it was humans.
After he had finished his meal, Indulf washed his face and went to meet the generals. They were there already, some of them looking more awake than others. By the smell of a couple of them, he had interrupted their intimacies with their mates or lovers.
Indulf sat down at the head of the table. “Warmund, share your findings.”
Warmund stood, bowed, and began to speak. It was all magical babble, stuff that Indulf had little interest in. He steepled his fingers as he listened, though. When Warmund announced that Anna came from the future, there were several disbelieving looks around the table.
“We all know that time travel isn’t possible,” one of them protested. “Prince Warmund, are you certain that this is the most logical interpretation of the magical signatures, or are you just desperate to get your sister back?”
Warmund had been extremely attached to his little sister. Ever since she was born, she could do no wrong in his eyes. He would often skip his training to walk her around the grounds. Half the time, the nannies were doing nothing because Wildref was tended to by her older brother. Indulf felt a familiar tightening in his chest. Warmund had to move on, but how?
“We will continue to look into this possibility,” Indulf interrupted the bickering before it could escalate. “Regardless, this magic poses a threat to us and I want—"
“Don’t turn this into something that has to be destroyed.” Warmund’s voice was tense. “Father, this is our chance to find out once and for all what happened to Wildref.”
“Wildref is dead.”
“No!” Warmund slammed his fist into the table. “She isn’t!”
Indulf gazed at his son with pity.
Warmund straightened. His hands clenched tighter, his glare no less fierce. “Wildref is not dead. If she is, then you need to get yourself a new mate and produce a new heir. The kingdom is crumbling around you, Father. If I can’t be your heir and you refuse to look for your daughter, then—”
“Enough.” Indulf’s fires flickered as he rose to his feet. “I am your king, Warmund. I will not allow any dissent over this. The mages will find how these magics are created. If it is portals between this world and a world in the future, then we must find a way to seal them. Permanently.”
“Father—”
“I am your king.”
Warmund trembled for a moment before his shoulders dropped. He bowed briefly, then turned and walked out of the room. The generals glanced at each other, not meeting Indulf’s gaze. His fires flared hotter, but he refused to let them escape. One fist clenched beneath the table before he called on the general of mages.
“What do you want to report?”
The general stood and bowed. “Your Grace. My mages have found nothing of note.”
The meeting continued in that ilk, each general with nothing to report. By the time it was done, Indulf was tense enough to be made of steel. He dismissed the generals and headed toward his chambers. On top of everything else, he had learned nothing new about Anna, except she couldn’t hold her alcohol. That red flush in her pale face was quite becoming, though…
He was almost there when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to find Warmund with a half-dozen of his friends marching up the corridor. Indulf rose a brow at the angry looks on their faces. He ought to have known that Warmund wouldn’t drop it so easily. Why did his son have to be so stubborn? This wasn’t a situation where his mind would be changed by a few voices calling out in Warmund’s support.
“Father.” Warmund’s voice was tense, his hands clenched. Smoke curled from his nostrils. “I have come to ask you to change your mind about the portals.”
“And you have wasted your time.”
Warmund’s fists tightened. “Are you really going to stand back and do nothing? Waste this chance that fate has granted us to find Wildref and bring her back?”
“Wildref is dead.”
“Maybe not!” Warmund’s voice rose. “If we can tame this time magic, then we could go back. We could stop her from being taken. We could warn our past selves about the assassinations and prevent it from happening. The queen wouldn’t have to be dead.”
That tugged at Indulf’s heart. For a brief moment, he was tempted. But that moment passed. “And then what? If we changed the past, what would happen then? We could end up losing even more, Warmund. If you were suddenly to appear in the past, what guarantees are there that you wouldn’t be killed? Time magic is volatile. It’s forbidden for a reason. You could destroy the whole kingdom trying to save two people.”
Warmund closed his eyes, as though steeling himself.
Indulf glanced over his gathered companions. They all carried a weapon of some sort. It was obvious what this was. His heart sank, and a bitter smile crossed his face. “I thought you were smarter than this, Warmund. Coming to attack me yourself? You’d have done better to hire an assassin to kill me.”
Warmund’s eyes opened. A brief hint of uneasiness flashed through his gaze, but it was replaced with steely determination. “I don’t want to kill you, Father. If you will stand down, then it can be a peaceful transition. But I cannot stand back anymore while you do nothing.”
“Ah, my son.” Indulf shook his head sadly. “A peaceful transition? If it were possible for you to be king, I’d have crowned you as my heir long ago. But we are a stubborn people, us dragons. Nobody will accept you as their ruler.”
“They don’t have to!” Warmund hissed, his voice full of venom. “They just have to fear me enough to stay out of my way. I am going to open the portals, Father. I am going to get Wildref back, since you are too much of a coward. Since you would rather watch everything burn in your grief, rather than taking the steps to stop it. Then, once I have my sister by my side and your weakness is exposed to the kingdom… they’ll accept her.”
The doubt was plain to see in Warmund’s eyes. Indulf considered his son for a moment. His companions all bristled, on edge, clearly wanting to attack. The hold he had, keeping them back, was tentative at best. Not one of them was a dragon. That was good. The corridor was also wide and open, allowing for a full shift. That was also good. If he shifted right now, attacked before they had a chance—
But this was his son. If he had a chance to talk him down, then he would take it. Indulf turned his gaze back to Warmund and softened his expression. “I know you miss her, Son. I know that you are doing this because you still mourn her. It wasn’t your fault.”
“No.” Warmund choked, then suddenly his shoulders went back. Fury filled his gaze. “It’s yours.”
There was a space of a single heartbeat when Indulf’s brain refused to accept what was happening. It felt like he was watching from another person’s body as his son charged, his companions crying out together. A blade flashed in Warmund’s hand. It was only then that everything caught up with him. Sound and color sharpened, and his flames burst from his mouth.
Indulf threw himself forward. Warmund swiped clumsily at him and Indulf struck his wrist, then spun in and elbowed him in the throat. One of the others stabbed at his ribs, and Indulf grabbed that arm and brought it down over his knee. A sickening crunch followed by a blood-curdling scream, and the knife dropped to the floor as the mage’s arm bent backward at the elbow.
A fist was driven into his kidneys, making Indulf stumble. He didn’t waste time looking for who it was; he semi-shifted, his skin covered with silvery scales and long claws sprouted from his fingertips. He swiped with both hands. Felt blades skitter over his skin, while his own claws sank deep in tender flesh. He yanked from one side to the other, the copper tang of blood filling the air.
Warmund roared in fury and was there again, his skin covered in glittering black scales. He slammed his body into Indulf’s, driving him back from the soft mages. Wickedly sharp claws swiped across his chest, slicing open the leather jerkin and sending scales flying through the air. Fury burned in his eyes. Indulf closed his heart off; this was no longer his son, but an enemy. Faceless. Nameless. He renewed his attack, trading blows back and forth.
The others regrouped and charged in to help their traitor prince. Indulf fought off their beating swords, but every now and then they found a nick in his armor created by their leader. Blood flowed freely as he cried out in pain. Shouts came from down the corridor and for a moment everybody froze. Volcant and other guards charged to meet them.
The soft-bodied ones turned to meet the dragons, and Indulf threw his enemy against the wall. Fire burned in his gut as he opened his jaws to destroy the one who had attacked him. One hand pressed hard into his enemy’s throat, preventing him from releasing his own fires.
And then, Indulf made a mistake. He met his enemy’s eyes; and in that second, it wasn’t a traitor trying to kill him that he saw. It was his son. His little boy. And he couldn’t do it. He released Warmund and stepped back.
“Go,” he whispered.
Warmund hesitated only a second before he ran.
Indulf watched his son disappear down the corridor. Behind him there were shouts and when he finally turned, Volcant had brought down the last of the would-be assassins. He gave his king a look Indulf didn’t bother to decipher, before ordering guards after Warmund.
Indulf wanted to order them to let him go, but knew he couldn’t. Warmund had risen against him, tried to kill him… As king, he couldn’t let that stand.
“I will be in my rooms when you find him,” he mumbled to Volcant and swiftly walked away while his fires flickered low and tears burned his eyes.