The Warrior King (Inferno Rising #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,106

that time.

Finally, the dragons flying home assembled outside on the landing pad and walked toward where she and the king waited inside the massive training chamber.

One man walked ahead of the others.

Their elected speaker, most likely. The one who’d contacted Amun to tell the clan that many of those who’d left when they’d thought Gorgon dead wanted to return to the fold. That they wished to beg mercy from the king himself.

Gorgon remained where he was, and Meira continued to prop him up, her muscles starting to shake.

As the leader of the group neared, she studied him. But he was just a man. As tall as the other black dragon shifters with the same midnight-colored hair and eyes the color of mercury.

At an unseen signal, he stopped at least fifty feet from where she and the king stood, and those behind him shuffled to a halt as well. The way his gaze darted over her left shoulder, she guessed Samael must’ve made some sign that they’d come close enough. Meira’s gaze skated over the hands she could see. Each blank, missing the king’s brand.

According to dragon law, that marked these people as traitors and rogues, to be shunned or even executed on sight.

The pulse of sensations swirling around those wishing to return would have taken her to her knees if she hadn’t muted the effect, once again holding a flame in one fist. Still, the emotions reached for her with grasping fingers. The pressure of anxiety. Dizziness that she associated with respect but also a fear of losing control. Either could apply. The itching of blame or jealousy. A heaviness of fear. And a hollowed-out sensation she couldn’t put her finger on overlaid everything. Closed mindedness would be a bad sign. Negativity was better, but not by much.

“My name is Haikaf Nar. I own a small produce stand in the city.”

Gorgon nodded.

The man named Haikaf continued. “We came to ask our king, face-to-face, to readmit us to the clan.”

With a deep breath that likely only she caught because the action pushed against her, Gorgon straightened, taking all his weight. “Why did you leave?” The words were a growl, the king’s opinion of his deserters made clear in his tone.

To give him credit, Haikaf paled, and that dizziness of fear of losing control spiked around her. Meira blinked through it. Haikaf stood his ground in the face of his king’s disapproval. “We were afraid, my king.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“You were gone, dead, we heard. Your beta dead. Your queen, who many rumored had killed you, disappeared. Even more confusing, the Captain of the Guard gone with her. Then we hear from the same woman that you are not dead. That another man has died in your place. A doppelgänger who posed as you with no one close to you noticing.”

“And you didn’t believe her? The woman I’d made vows to?” Gorgon’s lips pulled back, baring his teeth.

“No.” Haikaf shook his head. “We did believe her. Because Samael Veles stood at her side, we believed her.”

Meira tried not to show how that one sentence caught her attention, but she allowed her gaze to skate over the men gathered behind Haikaf. These weren’t like the people whom the king had introduced her to earlier.

Those men and women had dressed in fine clothes, business suits, some more casual than others, but still in quality with hair perfectly coiffed. Which meant that Gorgon had met primarily with the elite today, the power brokers of the mountain, the politicos who could make or break the support he received from the clan.

But could they?

The people in front of her reminded her more of the humans her family had lived around in Kansas when they’d worked at the diner. Hardworking, hard living. Less educated primarily, and poorer, which often went hand in hand, at least in the human world. Also, at least to Meira’s way of thinking, kinder and more grounded. Willing to give their last dime if it helped out someone they felt needed that dime more.

Sam’s people.

Gorgon apparently came to the same conclusion. “You’ve come back because Samael Veles has returned.”

Not a question, a statement.

Haikaf shifted on his feet and said nothing, and that hollowness of insecurity thickened in the room.

Samael’s walls were mostly up, but a small feathering of surprise slipped through.

Meira had to keep from glancing at Samael, pride in the man she’d chosen for her mate threatening to burst from her, drowning out the emotions coming at her from the gathering. She’d bet if