Unshackling the King (The Dragon Lorde #1)

Chapter Thirty-Seven: In Search of a Guilty Culprit

Emoriah felt her jaw drop from the preposterous lie. Enough! Do you know who wrote that message?

No, I do not. Though I do know you need help. But its not up to me for you to follow my suggestion.

I will not ask that chauvinist .. But she never finished her thought, as she felt the heavy presence leave her mind.

Blast!

Shrill chirps welcomed her wet and exhausted state, as she stumbled her way into the room. Running her fingers through her short locks she felt her dragons land on her shoulders. Glancing up she noticed they appeared as rattled as herself.

She felt their inquiring cat-like gaze, as she pulled a random forest green gown from her wardrobe. Finally annoyed of the tense silence that grew thicker with each second, she turned her head and stared pointedly at each of their minuscule snouts. "What?"

"Who wrote the message?" Shay's voice whispered, emanating from the petite cerulean scaled dragon on her left.

Emoriah still could never get over the fact that this dainty reptile creature could perfect and deliver the voice of another being.

"I don't know."

What do you know? Asita's voice crooned, sweetly, in Emoriah's mind.

Flipping brilliant! Now her own beasties were pricking her arse.

"That it's a warning!" Emoriah swallowed bitterly, before voicing her next words. "And I will need help from a certain cold-hearted man."

Ignoring the sharp toothy smiles of her companions at her left she turned her head towards the scarlet beauty puffing smoke from her scaly snout.

"Shula? What do you think?"

A scalding hot burst of flames escaped from Shula's scaled mouth, as she blinked her brightly gleaming yellow eyes in approval.

Well I guess we have ourselves an answer.

..

Emoriah stabbed firmly at the warm rubbery meat on her plate with her wooden fork in hand. It wiggled conspicuously on her utensil, as she raised it to her mouth. But a repellent smell of foul stinky feet had her dropping it back to her plate faster than she had picked it up.

Bloody hell! Who ate this nauseating rubbish?

"Is something wrong with your Goldhorn dear?"

Emoriah wiped the disgust from her face, before glancing up. A brown flab of that horrendous meat sat jiggling on her father's fork, as he raised it to his mouth and slowly bit into it.

Emoriah ignored the powerful urge to gag at the sounds emanating from her father's pie hole, as she leaned away from her shining plate. "No, unfortunately I'm Goldhorn intolerant."

A short chuckle erupted from her left, as Cole shot her an amused smirk. Emoriah leaned over and snatched a warm roll, before sending a sly wink in his direction.

"Now your highness, it's never becoming to fabricate such a lie." A curt voice announced, from across the table.

Emoriah met the dark icy eyes of her bodyguard and frowned at the sight of a pleased expression upon his stone-like features. She watched as he wiped his long fingers leisurely on the gold fabric of his napkin, before shifting his heavy gaze on her.

"Whatever do you mean Kaede?"

Emoriah spotted a shift of his firm ironed mouth as it tugged a millimeter up at her words. "From what I recall you have never tasted Goldhorn meat."