Cole

"Has he said anything?"

Wyatt circled the mage prisoner, bound to the wooden chair. His sword and chest armor were near the tent flap. He wore a surly look as he circled the mage, arms crossed.

"He hasn't. I think he believes his comrades will be coming for him."

I frowned. "That's not going to happen."

"Ha! You're telling me that one man and a dumb beast took out five elite mages?" the prisoner spat, leaning forward and straining his bonds.

I sighed and shook my head. "They really don't teach their mages anything in Stivalia." I cracked my knuckles and stood in front of the mage. "I suppose it is time for a lesson."

He tilted his head back, green eyes wild and bright. They resembled the eyes of the lead mage. I took a closer look and noted the similar bone structure of his cheeks.

"Do you know who I am?" I pressed my thumb to my chest.

"Prince Cole."

"Yes, that's correct. My enemies know me as the War Dragon. Where do you think I got that reputation?"

The prisoner bowed his head and fell silent.

I glanced at Wyatt. He remained in a firm stance, observing. "Did you search him?"

"He had a vial of poison hidden behind his molar." Wyatt nodded shortly.

"Hmm, then you're willing to die to protect your secrets."

"That's right! You'll never get anything out of me."

I smirked and nodded to Wyatt. He bowed and backed out of the tent. "All that means is that I can't use death as a motivator. So, I need to find something worse than death."

Wyatt returned with a long, flat wooden box. It was polished mahogany with brass latches. He held it out to me and I ran my hand along the smooth wood surface.

"You see when someone is willing to die for their secrets, the job becomes rather easy. You're prepared to face death. What you aren't prepared to face is life, a very painful, drawn-out life."

I flipped the box lid open and pulled out ten needles, several inches in length and as thick as a small stick. Their points gleamed in the low lantern light of the tent. I held one up and waved it back and forth in front of my prisoner.

"You think a little pinprick will get me to talk!?" He snarled and struggled against his rope bindings.

Some mages would be able to break out of a knot like that with no problem, but I knew how these elite teams operated. They always left the weakest, least talented mage behind to guard the camp so the stronger ones could focus on the threat.

At least, he believed that his comrades were dead, or he'd be trying harder to escape.

"You should wait to see where I prick you," I smirked and nodded to Wyatt.

He untied one of the mage's arms and held it long. He gripped the mage's elbow and wrist.

"Now, what would compel you and your elite mages to wipe out an entire encampment without provocation?"

"Hmph."

I arched an eyebrow at Wyatt.

"You should give him a little more time to answer," Wyatt suggested.

"Perhaps you're right." I took a knee in front of the chair and brought one of the needles to the prisoner's fingertip. I traced the point along the underside of his overhanging fingernail.

He gulped audibly.

"Shall I ask again?"

"I-I already told you... I won't s-say anything..."

Scoffing, I looked at Wyatt again.

"You warned him." The general moved his grip from the mage's wrist to his palm.

"Alright then. First knuckle or second knuckle?" I tapped the needle on the mage's thumb.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, his voice a whisper.

I ignored him and held Wyatt's gaze.

"First Knuckle. Something tells me you won't need more than one with him."

Smirking, I nodded. I slid the tip of the needle under the mage's fingernail and pushed. The sharp tip sliced effortlessly into his nailbed.

"Wh- AHHHHHHH!"

His screams tore through the tent as I pushed the needle through his finger to his first knuckle. The tip stuck against the hard, bulbous bone.

The mage sobbed and groaned. Blood dripped off the end of the needle. His face was pale as snow and his head hung limply. Tears dripped from his nose onto his pants.

"I don't know if you noticed, my mage friend, but I have ten needles and you have ten fingers. How many more shall I prick you with before you tell me what I want to know."

"I... I..." he sighed and his entire body slumped.

Wyatt pressed his fingers to the mage's neck. "He's alive, just unconscious."

"Very well. Bring me a bowl of water, a towel, and another chair."

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I sat opposite the mage and patted his cheek with a wet towel. He grunted and threw his head back.

"Don't touch me!"

"Welcome back." I tossed the towel aside and crossed my legs. "We were about to have an illuminating discussion about why your elite mages attacked an encampment unprovoked."

The mage twisted his face into a snarl. His eyes darted around the tent, to Wyatt, to the closed tent flap, to me. When his eyes settled on me I saw how wild and crazy they were. He was a trapped animal. Scared, ready to gnaw his hand off to escape.

I tapped one of the long needles against my knee and his eyes immediately dropped to it. He froze for a moment and then looked at his arm. It hung limply at his side. Blood still dripped from the end of the needle. Between the pain and the rigidness of the pin, I knew it would be hard for him to move his arm and it would be useless for magic.

"If you'd rather I add to the collection." I pointed the pin to his good hand.

"NO! No... I'll tell you." He let out a final sob, his shoulders slumping.

I took no pleasure in seeing a warrior succumb to defeat but it was what needed to be done. If I was going to launch a war in retaliation for Stivalia's actions, I needed to know why.

"King Verill gave us a mission to watch your armies..." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "His orders were to engage if you succeeded in y-your conquest of Carsa."

"Why use a sneak attack? Why go after warriors that had laid down their weapons for the night?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "King Verill said it would... in-incur the War Dragon's wrath."

I snorted. "Well, he was right about that."

"Then the king's sole intention was to start a war," Wyatt filled in.

"It seems that way." I glared at the prisoner but he kept his head bowed. "King Verill has been growing bolder and more confrontational for decades. And yet, we've never figured out why."

Wyatt shrugged casually. "What a marvelous opportunity for us to find out." He nodded to the mage.

Our prisoner's head shot up. "Wh-what? I will never divulge my kingdom's secrets!" He gritted his teeth and glared at us.

"I've heard some derivation of that before..." I stroked my chin. Grabbing the mage's hand, I placed it gingerly in my lap.

"Don't..." he gasped, his eyes wide as saucers as he stared at the needle in my hand.

"Oh, that's not for you, yet." I tossed the needle on the ground and pinched the end of the needle stuck in his finger. "We haven't used this one to its full potential yet."

"I..."

I twisted the needle and the mage collapsed against the chair. He convulsed and groaned, spittle pooling in the corner of his mouth. Pressing the needle with my forefinger, I pushed it to the left. He continued to jerk and spasm.

"Why does King Verill want a war with Telasia?"

The mage's eyelids fluttered and his eyes rolled back. I released pressure on the needle and he whimpered.

"You should know! It is all your fault! You and the Agyion family!" His bloodshot eyes shot an accusing look my way.

I glanced at Wyatt. The general shrugged.

"What is it that my family did?"

"Y-you know..." he turned away again, paler than before.

"For argument's sake, pretend that we don't know."

"Princess Aura, heir to the th-throne in Stivalia, v-vanished twenty years ago. Wh-who else but the Agyion f-family to assassinate her?"

"We had no quarrel with Stivalia twenty years ago, why assassinate the king's heir?" It was news to me that Stivalia thought my family had killed the heir to the throne. King Verill had never even told us she disappeared.

"Because you're the War D-Dragon. Your f-father's only goal is to c-conquer and consume, a goal he p-passed to you. The only way to conquer a s-strong nation like Stivalia w-would be to weaken the m-monarchy."

Wyatt cleared his throat. "It's another excuse. King Verill is grasping at straws to become a conqueror himself, only he calls it justice."

"No!" the mage shook his head vehemently. "King Verill i-isn't like that."

"Would you be saying the same thing if you weren't a mage?"

He opened his mouth, gasped, and then closed it again. "You wouldn't understand."

"You're right about that." I rubbed my forehead. Wyatt made a good point. King Verill never told us his suspicions, which would have cleared up the whole matter. He just continued to provoke.

"King Verill has many children." Wyatt's voice filled the quiet tent.

"Yes. Assassinating the heir wouldn't weaken his bloodline or monarchy. There are other heirs."

The mage grunted and rolled his eyes. "King Verill's family has c-come down with an unfortunate c-case of mystical infertility. Another blow from T-Telasia, no doubt. Princess Aura w-was the most powerful m-mage of the bloodline. The only o-one who could break that c-curse."

I brushed the mage's arm off my lap. He shuddered and groaned but I ignored him. I rose to my feet and paced between Wyatt and the chairs.

"King Verill is insane if he thinks Telasia has accomplished enough mages to make an entire bloodline infertile." I clasped my hands behind my back and shook my head. This wasn't adding up.

"If he's desperate, then he'll use any reason to spark a war. Telasia is an enemy he can convince his people to hate," Wyatt interjected.

I flicked my eyes toward Wyatt and nodded. "Knowing this, we can't take the bait. Retaliating by declaring war is what he wants and I won't play into his hands."

"Are we done with him?" Wyatt motioned to the mage.

I nodded and kept pacing. How much of this did my father already know? He'd never informed me of Stivalia's suspicions but that didn't mean he didn't know. I needed to return to the palace immediately and discuss this with him.

A strangled cry cut short made me pause. I heard the slice of Wyatt's blade across the mage's throat and nodded.

"Cole, this changes things." Wyatt's sword swiped again, only this time he was cleaning it. I could hear the difference.

"It does. I'm willing to bet my father knows more about this than he's ever told me."

"Don't be so sure," Wyatt warned. "King Talis has his faults but he has never acted in the shadows or resorted to trickery."

"Right," I scoffed. "Because he'd never had to." I rubbed my chest over the spot that always felt so warm and tingly when my father and Amonette worked their little magic tricks.

"With this new information, it is possible to broker peace with Stivalia, if that's what the War Dragon wishes."

I glanced over my shoulder at Wyatt. He was down on one knee.

"Get up." I flicked my wrist at him. "Once two sides decide to fight, it is all but inevitable. My father will jump on whatever excuse he has and use his most powerful weapon against Stivalia." I pressed my palm to my chest.

"Why would he?

"Because the mage was right. Stivalia is weak without an heir or a way to continue the royal bloodline."

Wyatt bowed his head and nodded. "I will back your play, whatever you decide."

"You mean, whatever orders are given?" I arched an eyebrow at him.

"Yes. Whatever orders."

I left Wyatt to clean up the mage and joined Talon outside. Each blade of grass glistened with dewdrops and a sliver of gray reached across the horizon.

Will we return to the palace, then? Talon asked.

Are you eager to get back?

The dragon rumbled deep in his belly. The girl.

I groaned and turned away from him. Seriously? Talon, she's just a slave. When you showed interest in someone, I thought they'd be a little more your size and covered in scales.

He huffed and I saw smoke rise from his nostrils out of the corner of my eye. Smiling, I patted his arm.

Wyatt had a spare cot in the general's tent. I sat on the edge of the cot and took my boots off and unbuttoned my shirt. Wyatt sidled over and handed me a warm cup. I brought it to my nose and inhaled deeply. Warm whiskey.

"You always know what I need." I held my cup up to him and took a large swig.

"I know you'll be leaving tomorrow, so there is one more matter I wish to discuss."

I eyed the cup. "Are you just trying to put me in a good mood?"

"Your slave girl."

I groaned and tipped my head back. Why was everyone so obsessed with her!?

"What about her?"

"I take it you haven't freed her yet."

"No, Wyatt, I haven't. Talon likes her."

Outside the tent, Talon's deep hums reverberated through the ground and tent posts. The vibrations ran up my legs. I noticed Wyatt shift his weight, probably in response to the vibrating ground.

"You freed me from slavery. When you did, you promised that you'd put an end to slavery whenever you could."

"I don't need a history lesson, Wyatt." I lay back on the cot and propped my head up on my arm. "But I understand why this upsets you. I will free her upon my return."

Wyatt snuffed out the lanterns and crawled into his cot. I stared into the darkness. As much as Talon liked the girl, I couldn't break a promise to Wyatt. This whole experiment had gone on long enough.