House of Dragons: Royal Houses Book One

there was a table with parchment, ink, and refreshments. A place to while away the time until the potential was called in. She had never been inside this room before and was mildly disappointed to find it so plain.
“Here you are,” she said, masking her disappointment.
She held the door open wider, and Fordham entered with his head held high. Kerrigan debated slamming the door in his face and leaving him to sit alone in silence. She didn’t want to be alone with him. It’d be easier to stand outside and wait, like she had for the tribunal. But she was also curious.
Curious about Fordham. If she knew more about him, then perhaps she could figure out how they were connected and why she’d had a vision of him.
With a resigned sigh, she followed him into the room and closed the door behind her.
His eyes flicked to her, and his nostrils flared. “Do I need to be watched?”
She shrugged. “I’m just doing what I was told.”
“And you were told to escort me, not wait with me.”
Kerrigan ignored him and flopped into a chair by the door. “I’m not going to have Helly mad at me because I didn’t do what I was supposed to do.”
Fordham just glared at her. “Are you always this insufferable?”
“Pretty much.”
He looked like he wanted to argue with her. So, she just smirked up at him and waited for it to come. But he seemed to shake himself out of whatever rage had been forming behind his eyes and turned his back on her.
Damn. He really had decided she was no threat.
He spent an insurmountable amount of time pacing the small quarters. So much so that she actually had to close her eyes to stop from getting dizzy. She felt herself drifting again. She hadn’t slept enough last night. Not restful sleep at least. It never was restful after a vision. As if it had sapped all of her powers straight out of her body and left her with a sense of unease… and impending doom.
She jerked awake at the scratch of a quill against parchment. She blinked a few times to adjust to her surroundings and found Fordham seated before the desk. His handwriting was long and elegant. The sound of the quill a lullaby.
“What are you writing?” she asked, straightening so she wouldn’t pass out again.
“I thought you’d fallen asleep finally.”
“Did you make me go to sleep?” she asked, momentarily terrified.
What sort of abilities did a prince from the House of Shadows have?
His smirked at her suggestion. “And how would I accomplish that?”
“I don’t know. Some sort of spell.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“You’re from the House of Shadows,” she said as if that were obvious. “You used dark magic to enter the tournament.”
“Did I?” he asked with that same insufferable smirk.
“Black smoke,” she reminded him. “I don’t even know how the council approved you.”
Fordham arched an eyebrow and then said, “Half-Fae simple-mindedness,” before returning to his paper.
She clenched her hands into fists. She knew he was goading her and still she couldn’t back down. “We’re not like that, you know?”
“And you’re a half-Fae,” he said with malice in his voice. His quill screeched against the paper, ripping it. His eyes found hers, swirling with darkness. “Do you know what we do with half-breeds where I’m from?”
She gulped but met his stare. “I’ve heard stories.”
“I assure you, it’s worse than your imagination has been fed.”
Kerrigan glared but sank back into her chair again. This conversation was going nowhere.
“Do they always take this long?” Fordham asked what felt like hours later.
“Oh, so now, you want my counsel?”
He scowled at her and returned to the paper. He’d discarded a handful of them already.
She sighed. “I don’t know how long it normally takes. There are a lot of potential competitors this year. More than the last time there was a tournament. With five dragons up for grabs, there are better odds of joining the Society. Last time, there were only three, and… well, you know.”
He arched an eyebrow in question.
“You… do know, right?”
He said nothing. Either he was playing coy or he actually didn’t know what had been happening in Kinkadia the last five years.
“Only one Society member attained a dragon and moved forward into the year of training. The Society is eager to have a larger entering class.”
“Your perspective is enlightening,” he said with a note of sarcasm.
Ah, so he had known. She glared right back at him.
A knock sounded on the door disrupting their stand-off. Kerrigan jumped to her feet and wrenched it open. A Society member dressed in their long black robes stood before them—Mistress Cressida.
“Fordham Ollivier, you have been called for testing.”
Fordham was already on his feet. Fire danced at his hands as he obliterated whatever he had been writing. He left the last embers to burn and strode toward the woman.
“Wait here for the outcome,” Cressida said to Kerrigan. “If he is dismissed, you will escort him out.”
Kerrigan nodded and then sat back down. Her knee jiggled anxiously as she waited for the outcome. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She stood from her seat and paced over to the table. Most of the pages had been burned to a crisp. Only a thin layer of black ash remained behind. But there was one page where the flames had gone out too soon, curling the edges of the paper. He must have released his magic before it could complete his work.
Only a few lines were visible. And she furrowed her brow in confusion as she read them once, twice, three times through.
Red rivulets run down his spine.
Her tears gouge canyons into her cheeks.
Black eyes watch, unceasing.
Unceasing.
Kerrigan shuddered at the imagery. Was this… poetry? Did the princeling write dark, vivid poetry?
It felt wrong somehow to read this. She hadn’t known what he’d been doing, but she certainly hadn’t imagined him to be an artist. Could someone from the House of Shadows find art in their darkness?
It made her feel a little sick.
She snapped her fingers, and