The Dragon Lord by E. G. Foley

Author:E. G. Foley [Foley, E. G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Middle Grade Fiction
Publisher: E.G. Foley
Published: 2020-12-23T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

Courage & Consequence

Zolond was elated, his heart light. He gazed into the mirror on his parlor wall one last time and adjusted his bowtie.

He chuckled to recall the early days of their courtship, how he’d groomed himself with fastidious care before calling on her, and dressed to impress her in doublet and hose.

To this day, he still recalled the feel of his favorite black velvet jerkin; annoying as the fashion had been in those times, he had thought himself dashing indeed in his well-starched ruff.

He wondered if they would even recognize each other now, two wrinkly old things. But he didn’t care. He could’ve changed his appearance to some handsome young stud with a wave of his scepter. But that spitfire would no doubt laugh in his face.

He smiled, too. Humming under his breath, he then set his black bowler hat on his head, reached for his walking stick, and left his apartments, trailed by two reptilians.

As he marched through the Black Fortress, he quickly schooled his face into an ominous expression. If anyone noticed the Dark Master was feeling, dare he say, happy, they would know he was up to no good.

The furious howls of his powerful prisoners raging in their rooms resounded through the jet-black halls of the warlocks’ castle as he made his way to the bridge, but Zolond ignored them.

He’d disposed of Wyvern, at least. He was still thinking about what to do with the others, but their fates wouldn’t be much better. For now, the thought of the Nephilim cowering before those bizarre little entities crooked Zolond’s lips in a half-smile.

Approaching the bridge, he had to scold himself with a reminder to concentrate. He feared his anticipation of this meeting had him a little distracted. That was dangerous, he knew, but he couldn’t seem to help it. All he could think of was her.

The hour of their meeting was set for three. He was going in early to London, though, not merely because he was excited. He also wanted to make arrangements for his trip to the city with his grandson.

Zolond did not know whether to laugh or shake his head at the thought of that lad’s audacity. Well, he was the Black Prince, wasn’t he?

An inordinate level of daring was to be expected. Cocky? Perhaps. But the boy had backbone in spades. For a moment, Zolond almost regretted that such a fine young man had been born into such a cursed bloodline. He deserved better.

But he swept aside that distressing awareness. Nothing must be permitted to ruin his strange sensation of joy today.

Instead, he mentally listed the landmarks he’d take his grandson to see.

He especially wanted to show him all the old things that had been there when he was Victor’s age. Like the Tower of London, which had already been centuries old before Zolond was born. And the Temple Bar, where the executioners used to display the severed heads. Victor would enjoy that.

Ah, and the Globe Theatre, where Zolond had watched the debut performances of Shakespeare’s plays.

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