Silence Falls (Sequel to Promise the Sky)

Chapter 3

The clouds ripple over the walls of the room. I hold his gaze, telling myself that words mean nothing, that I shall not rise to his bait.

"You cannot claim to own a thing you have not earned," he says, reshuffling the cloak on his shoulders. "Now if you don't mind, child, my queen awaits."

I watch him turn, making to leave his place, this crypt and shrine, and feel the fury shudder through my body. Every muscle is knotted and I cannot seem to understand why, I cannot comprehend this kind of anger.

I feel I am disappointed to discover that all the stories were of a man, a terrible, terrible man, and not a terrible god.

"I said my name was Keenan," I repeat, speaking before I'm even aware that I've opened my mouth. "My name is Keenan Nottinghan, Noble Son, of the magnificence of the King's City, Harborne."

He pauses, back tightening.

"Your people are still dead," I say, "but mine are not. We have earned our place on this earth not through war, not through sin, nor death. We have earned this world because despite the greatest efforts of the lowest man, we continue to breathe." I smile. "Kill me, Bron Dragon-kin. It won't make a difference.”

Bron’s eyes flash, dangerously, and for a second, I genuinely believe that he will do it, that my pride has killed me. It would not be a terrible place to die, this, but I am not yet keen to accept it. I square up subconsciously, defying him despite the idiocy of it all. This is Bron, as in Bron and the Viper, the man who’s been alive less than ten minutes and already has more blood on his hands than I.

And then William’s face saves my life.

I had almost forgotten he was here, standing just out of reach, avoiding the conversation. But he steps up immediately, forcing his way into the space between us. Magic crackles, so new to this deep space, and William breathes out through his nose, a long, dominant breath, one that hovers in the moment, trapping it to his will.

I might have felt small, but not so with Will. The two men stand together, chest to chest, shoulder to shoulder, and Will holds Bron’s gaze unerringly.

“Montgomery…” Bron sighs contentedly, allowing William’s surname to slide over his lips with worrying familiarity. “You always look the same.”

Will smiles coldly, a bitter kind of satisfaction. He says nothing.

We’re too close together. I want to step away but I’m just as helpless as before, caught up in the tension. The likelihood of escaping alive just seems so slim.

“We have quite a history, your family and I,” Bron continues, when it becomes apparent that Will has no intention of replying.

“I am aware.”

Bron smiles also. His is far warmer but twice as terrifying. Bron does not smile in the stories.

“You are aware?” He laughs. It is a nice laugh. “I must have offended you, boy,” now he steps back and he does it with a flourish, all that foggy uncertainty gone. “Let me begin afresh, as I once had to do with your great grandfather also. I said it then, I’ll say it again: let us not forget that there is more to a man than what people say. It is a mistake we are all prone to making,” he winks, “especially when it comes to me.”

Bron holds up a single finger, begging for our patience as he throws his gaze casually about the room. His eyes furrow as he comes across the dead ambassador, sword still buried between his ribs. He seems to think for a second, absently rearranging his cloak with a gesture that, although small, still seems to ooze power.

“Did I kill this man?” He asks.

Will nods and Bron laughs again.

“And tell me, Montgomery, did he deserve it?”