Chapter 187
Chapter 187
Lina's POV
The pre-dawn hours wrapped the Dragon's Flame Chamber in ethereal blue shadows. I drifted between sleep and wakefulness when I felt Augustus's hand settle gently over my abdomen through the thick coverlets. His voice, barely above a whisper, spoke ancient Draconic words that flowed like liquid gold in the dim chamber, tender and reverent in a way I'd never heard before.
"Rest well today, honey," he murmured in the common tongue. "Selas will come for you after sunrise to escort you to the dungeons." Through my drowsiness, I managed a soft hum of acknowledgment, my hand unconsciously moving to rest atop his. The simple gesture made his golden pupils catch the dim light, and when he leaned down to press his lips to my forehead, the kiss lingered with something dangerously close to affection.
The rustle of his black and gold cloak told me he was leaving, his footsteps unusually muted as he departed the chamber.
When morning came, painting the stained glass windows in brilliant hues, I moved through my routines mechanically. The serving women attended me in hushed tones, their eyes searching my face for signs of the ordeal ahead. I ate sparingly and allowed them to braid my hair simply.
Selas arrived precisely as the sun crested the eastern towers, his scaled features composed yet troubled. "My lady, His Majesty has instructed me to escort you to the dungeons at your convenience."
We moved through the castle's corridors in silence, descending toward the lower levels where the air grew thick and damp. As we approached the stone steps leading into the castle's depths, Selas suddenly halted.
"My lady, I must remind you—His Majesty has ordered me to end the visit immediately if Horace shows any disrespect." His voice carried absolute authority yet underlying reluctance.
I met his gaze steadily. "I understand. But nothing he says will change my purpose."
Selas seemed to wrestle with himself before simply nodding. As we reached the dungeon entrance, I whispered words that felt like both prayer and promise: "Mom, I will set you free today..."
Selas withdrew a mint-oil soaked cloth. "My lady, the dungeons reek. Please cover your nose." I accepted it gratefully as we descended into oppressive darkness, torches casting dancing shadows on worn stone steps.
The dungeon corridor stretched before us, lined with cells containing the male members of House Valerian—every man and boy over fourteen, now reduced to hollow-eyed, ragged figures who pressed against iron bars as I passed. Their appearance shocked me: once-proud nobles now resembled beggars, their clothes in tatters, hair wild and unkempt. The stench was overwhelming despite the mint cloth.
My presence was like light thrust into darkness. Faces tracked my movement with desperation, curiosity, and rage, yet not one showed recognition. I had been Horace's hidden secret, raised in isolation, never presented at family gatherings. To them, I was merely another puzzle piece in their reduced world.
I kept my gaze fixed ahead, walking through their desperation with my purpose as anchor, until we reached the corridor's end where a cell sat apart from the others, marked by heavier reinforcements and complex locks.
Selas worked two separate keys, and the heavy door groaned open, releasing concentrated miasma—mold, waste, and despair made manifest. The cell was larger but more oppressive, its single high window admitting only gray daylight. In the far corner, a figure stirred.
"My lady, I'll be right outside. Call if you need anything," Selas murmured. I nodded and stepped across the threshold, hearing the door close behind me without locking.
The man who raised his head bore little resemblance to the proud Lord Horace Valerian. His silver-gold hair hung in greasy tangles around a gaunt face, green eyes having lost their imperious gleam, replaced by wary desperation. Stubble covered hollow cheeks, and his once-fine clothes were now rags.
Recognition dawned in his eyes like sunrise over wasteland. "Lina? My daughter?" He struggled to rise, iron shackles clanking, reaching toward me with trembling hands. "Thank the gods, you're alive! I thought...I thought the Dragon King would kill you..."
I remained motionless, studying this broken man with detached interest. "You thought? When you sent me to the Citadel, weren't you already prepared for my death?"
The accusation hit him like a physical blow, his expression shifting from joy to confusion to shame before the practiced smile of a desperate man replaced it. "No, no...I knew the Dragon King wouldn't harm you. Look, you're fine now, aren't you? Even..." His gaze dropped to my slight abdominal curve. "Even carrying his heir! Lina, this is a great honor! You'll be Dragon Queen, and House Valerian will rise again through you!"
Memories flooded back: my mother Marian sitting alone in our cottage, waiting for visits that came too rarely; her silent weeping; her final moments gripping my hand, begging me to forgive this man.
"Do you still remember her?" I whispered.