The Dream Keeper's Dragon

3.11 Follow Me

The tallest tower in the castle, built by her father, was known as the Strategy Tower. As a child, Aurelie was told that it had been an ego trip that led Emile Dranoir to build the room for himself. A grand gesture of class division by a power hungry, young King. To be fair to Kaiden and Elizabeth, they really thought that this was the case.

All four of the walls were glass. Aurelie saw the river, the town, and the mountain. Everything. Wow! There was no door, only the glass balustrade that led through the opening in the floor.

A wooden table, like the one they had at the inn with the map of Highfire engraved into the wood, stood in the center of the room. This one was fancier and was circular instead of rectangular. The mountains stood out higher than the rest of the carvings. The leaves of trees had their own tiny patterns. It even had waves in its sea and little hooks where you could attach ships. Though the ships were not being used, and tucked away in a leather suitcase, along with other figures. Aurelie could make our men and horses but was not sure what else was hidden from sight.

The King stood with his back to her, his arms crossed behind his back. Her footsteps were loud enough to hear, but he seemed to be ignoring her presence.

"Morning," she said, creeping up to one of the chairs.

"Evening," he replied, still not turning back.

Aurelie took his tongue in cheek greeting and let the unpleasantness fade. The atmosphere, however, was set. Bitter and resentful. After surviving Orken at the inn, her father's temper was nothing in comparison. Not yet.

"I was told that this room was the peak of your madness," she said. Not to create an argument, or insight rage, but to introduce him to the man that had been created in her mind through years of casual dinner conversation. To reveal to him why she had yet to touch his hand or talk to him in a manner that a daughter did to her father. "They imagined that this would be her prison when you found out that she gave me away."

"She bled to death hours—or was it days?—after your birth. Memories are so cruel in how they fade." His head quaked in memory and thin, cruel acceptance. "Not prison. That suggests she would have let me put her in a cage. She gave up a little toward the end, but the flare inside he didn't fade." He paused, rocking on his heels. "People look at you and think of me," he snorted, "but if I were to take your mother and make a copy, it'd be you staring back. The way you bite your lips, left side never right, the nervous grapple you have with your fingers when you're plotting. I look at you and she stares back. I'd have liked it if you had her eyes, but one can never have everything."

"What color were they?"

"A dark brown that shone hazel in the sunlight. They turned black when she was mad, or in tears."

Aurelie caught her fingers stirring and stopped. She had hardly noticed them before he mentioned. That was her tell, she supposed. A mental note would have to be made to get rid of the habit. "Did she cry a lot?"

"Only in the last months."

"She didn't understand you."

His chest rose and fell in a deep breath. "If she did, you'd have grown up within the castle walls."

"Do you think she still loved you?"

He nodded. "A love like that doesn't just fade. She hated herself for it, I think, but she loved me still. Wouldn't let me leave her side in the end. Clutched the feeling out of my fingertips, weak as she was." He licked his lips and looked down at the table, trying to hide the vivid sadness. "The last thing she said was, 'You'd better follow me soon, you bastard.'"

Aurelie put her hand on the back of the nearest chair. The true reason for her visit was delayed long enough. "So," she started. Quick and direct. Tear off the scab and let it bleed. "I'm—