The Betrayed Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 2), Dan Michaelson [best books to read all time .txt] 📗

arched ceiling, which was covered in painted murals depicting dragons that looked as if they flew overhead, offering protection or hunting. Sculptures that reminded me of the dragons within the Academy were situated throughout the palace—most of them sat on the floor, though not all. Some of them somehow hung from the pillars, suspended in a way that made them seem like they were flying. Servants scurried around the inside of the palace, barely paying any attention to us. Situated at each pillar was another soldier. It didn’t take long for me to realize they were all dragon mages.

“There are so many,” I whispered.

Thomas glanced over to me then.

“So many what?”

“So many dragon mages here. I guess I didn’t know there were that many.”

Thomas swept his gaze around the inside of the palace. We were in a massive entry chamber and halls branched off in every direction. “How many do you see?”

“I only see four, but I think there are probably three more I don’t even see.” I closed my eyes, and I could feel the energy of the dragons flowing, as if it were some sort of rope pulling through me, attempting to draw on me. “I could be wrong though.”

Thomas sniffed. “You probably aren’t.”

“You don’t sound like you’re too fond of them. I thought you were the chief dragon mage.”

“I am.”

“What happened? I’ve heard about the dragon mages who are now working with Donathar.” I should be careful not to assume more than I already knew, but I couldn’t shake my curiosity.

“Donathar thinks to push beyond his place. He doesn’t understand the threats the kingdom faces nearly as well as he needs to for him to serve as the chief dragon mage.”

As we strode along the marble tile, our boots thundering in the otherwise quiet palace, I watched Thomas. Tension constricted his shoulders and his gaze darted from side to side; there was a level of concern within him that he obviously didn’t want to acknowledge, but I could see it.

Something more was taking place, even if he wouldn’t say anything about it.

We reached a set of double doors. They were closed, and worked into the wood of both doors were a series of symbols along the upper portion. I couldn’t read them, but I didn’t even know if that mattered. Enormous dragons were carved into the wood, giving it a ferocious appearance; it looked as if the doors had been burned with dragon fire, etching those symbols into place.

A single man stood in front of the doors. Donathar. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he wore the same dappled, deep green cloak that I had seen him wearing when I first came across him in the forest with Manuel. A sense of power radiated from him, something that stretched out from him, as if he wanted everyone to know about his connection.

Not everyone. Thomas.

I focused on the connection I could feel between Donathar and the dragon, though it strained beyond the palace.

“Donathar,” Thomas said, his voice clipped. “I was summoned.”

Donathar smiled and glanced at me, winking slightly. I still didn’t know how to read him. He had been pleasant when I had spoken to him, and he was working to try to find the missing dragons. “I’m well aware that you were summoned, Thomas.”

My involvement here was a mistake. I could feel that, much like I could feel that I needed to be anywhere but here.

Thomas was the chief dragon mage.

But for how much longer?

I had overheard Donathar make a comment about Thomas leaving. Now I had to wonder if his departure might have a more complicated explanation.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Donathar said.

“It wouldn’t be if you had served the way you were supposed to.”

“I’m doing what I’m asked.”

“We both know that you weren’t asked. You pushed. You used your connections to coerce the Sharath into permitting this.”

“I serve the throne, as I believe you do. I’m only doing what I was asked.”

Donathar pushed the door open and waved his hand.

Thomas strode forward, and I looked over to Donathar.

He leaned close, lowering his voice. “Don’t worry about him. He’s all bluster. He always has been.” He winked again.

I frowned for a moment before hurrying after Thomas, then caught up to him.

“What was that about?” I whispered, turning back to Thomas.

“Quiet,” he said.

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something, when I realized where we were.

The throne room.

It was enormous. Much like the outer aspect of the palace, marble was everywhere. The ceiling stretched high overhead, and much like outside, there was a mural painted upon it. In this one, there was only a single dragon, an enormous black-scaled dragon with flames streaking from its mouth. It was painted so that it appeared as if the dragon circled overhead, offering power here.

On the walls were two massive sculptures of dragons, and I could feel something about them as well, though I had no idea what it could be. I looked over at Thomas, thinking about saying something, but the intensity in his gaze, and the tension in his jaw, made me hesitate.

He took a deep breath before starting forward.

We made our way toward the throne at the far end of the room. It was situated between two columns that stretched to the ceiling’s high arches. A stained-glass window sat behind it, sunlight shining through and casting the king in a pale white light that made him seem to glow.

Thomas moved more stiffly than he had before.

There were no other dragon mages inside. The only other person was an older man, somebody about my father’s age, with gray hair, a slender jaw, and a gray robe that draped over his shoulders and hung to the ground.

The Sharath.

I had never seen him, but he was the king’s right-hand man, and he would have been the only person to be with the king in the throne room. The Sharath’s gaze lingered on Thomas for a moment, then he tapped a long staff on the ground before