The Conquered Throne (2019) Book 2 of The Broken Crown series

Dragons

Rippling circles swallowed up the small pond as Syrus sunk yet another stone in his boredom.  A telltale ripple skittered across the surface and Syrus quickly backed away from the edge. He had gotten a good look at the creature in its murky depths the week before. It had waved its green scaly, webbed hand and whispered playful words, yet when it smiled he noticed the rows of sharp needle-like teeth and the hungry gleam in its black eyes. The ripples of the pond grew and Syrus watched as an oddly wide head poked up. A strange bowl-like depression adorned the creature like a crown, filled with swirling green water. It’s black eyes sparkled and Syrus watched that swirling water go round and round and round...With a start Syrus shook his head, turning his back to the amphibious creature.
 
There were many new creatures throughout this strange new land, some friend and some foe, but there were many who fell in between. Like the strange three-legged Raven that always came to his window at dawn to sing a song, or the tiny bee-women who swarmed him in the garden. Their soft buzz and sweet faces always hovered nearby, they possessed lethal looking stingers but never seem to be angered by his presence. Syrus spent a good deal of time deciding which belonged where. This water demon however, landed staunchly in the foe camp.

A breeze wafted through the fragrant little garden and he sighed. His mistress gave him a questioning look. “That be a lonesome look there, lad.” He didn’t bother to reply, instead snatching up a cattail, he swung it aloft like a mighty sword...like Si...his arm sunk down to his side once more and this time he couldn't keep the pout from his small face. 

“Well that’s et then is et?” His governess challenged him. Pinching off a ‘sword’ of her own, she took up a dueling stance, her weapon at the ready. 

“Oh no! That’s not how you do it!” He said in alarm. Quickly he moved her arms and legs into the appropriate position as he had seen his elders do countless times on their journey east. She squawked at the unfamiliar stance but kept steady. Taking up his position across from her, he held his cattail at the ready. They stood quietly underneath the bright leaves for a time, waiting. A dragonfly zipped by and his governess blinked. Quick as a serpent he struck, knocking the ‘sword’ from her hand. She blinked in surprise as he crowed his victory, flinging his hands in the air. Squeaking in mock terror she took a turn about the small pond as he chased her with his own drooping cattail. 

    “Good form there laddie.” 
   
    Syrus spun on his heel, dropping his weapon in delight. “Jarsha!” In a trice the boy flung himself into the burly man’s waiting arms. The boy choked back a quiet little sob as his arms practically strangled Jarsha. His little shoulders shook and his face scrunched in his attempts to keep the tears at bay. Men didn’t cry, so neither would he.

    “Ach, lad...I cannae tell you how sorry I am.” He stroked the boy’s dark hair and wiped a smudge from his cheek. 

    Syrus’s flung himself back, his delight swiftly turning to anger. “Why haven’t you come to see me?” The tears came fast and hard now. “Not you! Not Letty or Donovan or Si- si-” Her name faltered on his lips and he wept in earnest. Jarsha pulled the boy against him and he squirmed, his little fists beating against Jarsha’s strong chest. “None of you! I- I thought she loved me! I thought I was hers.” 

    Jarsha felt his heart must be breaking into a million tiny little pieces. He swept the boy up and carried him from the garden, the now weepy eyed governess in tow. “Aye, we love you lad. She loves you very much. You cannae doubt that. It hasna been safe.” It was true, Sirena had feared so much for the boys safety she had left him in the care of a host of guardians, soldiers and nursemaids, while the Caer was cleansed of any possible threat. The boy’s sobs quieted and he grew still. Jarsha set him down outside the large double doors of the great hall. Sirena had an aversion to the throne room that Jarsha had yet to puzzle out. Smoothing back Syrus's hair and tugging on his tunic, Jarsha spoke in a hushed voice. “Can you be a brave lad?” 

    Syrus eyed the frightening rampant dragons that stretched across the hammered copper. The sun blazed brightly and they seemed to come alive, dancing and on fire. They writhed under his gaze, their heat pressing against his dark skin. Nodding silently he steeled himself for whatever may lay behind the dragon’s ruby eyes. “That’s a good lad.” Jarsha gave him one last cursory look before nodding to the ever silent guards flanking the entrance. 

    Slowly the massive gilt doors creaked open and Syrus gazed upon the great hall for the very first time. Sunlight streamed through the colorful, high windows and a long scarlet isle stretched before him, seemingly endless. He could see Sirena in the distance and his heart beat wildly, it took every ounce of his nine year old self-control not to dash, yelling and screaming, across the room. Just as Jarsha looked different, clad in bright mail and a sweeping cloak, so did she. Arrayed before the court in a billowing sapphire gown, she was simply glorious. Her hair flowed long and loose, fiery in the sunlight. Jarsha gave the boy a little nudge and he walked timidly towards the dias. 

    Syrus thought she looked like a statue. A golden circlet sat upon her head and to either side sat a row of men. He brightened as he saw Donovan amongst the seemingly ancient men. Just as he was about to climb the stairs Jarsha laid a hand on his shoulder. An unpleasant tingling shot down his spine and his stomach churned unhappily. Shuffling from one foot to the next, he gulped loudly as the gaze of the ancient men seemed very much like hungry dragons. 

Syrus's gaze dropped to his toes, and ball of misery rose in his gut until a gentle hand tipped up his chin...and there she was. Sirena dropped to her knees and crushed him against her. “I’m so sorry Syrus. I promise I did not forget you. We’ve been very worried there might still be Kingsmen here.” 

Syrus’s eyes grew big and round, darting from corner to corner as if they might be in this very room. “I told Jarsha I can be brave. I’ll keep you safe My Lady!” His declaration aroused a ripple of laughter amongst the old dragons. 

“Aye, he would at that Your Majesty.” A man with more wrinkles than he thought possible creaked down the stairs towards him. Holding out a bony hand, Syrus grasped it gently, helping him totter the last few feet. “I’ve heard many things about you, young Syrus.” The boy looked at his feet once more. “Do you love your Queen, lad?”

His head whipped up. “Yes!” He exclaimed. In the very next breath he questioned, “Are you really a Queen, Si?” 

She gave a small laugh. “Yes, it seems I am.” She knelt once more,  a very serious, almost pleading look on her face. 

Syrus put a small hand on her cheek. “Why are you sad?” Her eyebrows flew up in surprise. She had not anticipated he would see so much. 

“Syrus, I have a very important question for you.” He nodded, nervously, to show he was listening. “I may be a Queen. But a queen isn’t very much without a brave prince.” Silence grew and filled the room. “Will you be my prince?” She asked very quietly.

Syrus simply could not contain himself. Giving a fierce yell, he threw himself into her arms. Tears slid down her cheeks and a truly joyous grin suffused her face. Laughing as he yipped and shouted, she turned to the assembled lords. “Does the Council accept my decision to have Syrus Freeman as my ward and heir?” 

Syrus beamed as not a single one of those old dragons said nay.