The Dragon's Keep

Chapter 14

Walking through the Cavern of Mythics, Cahill quickly got on his phone. "Aoife?"

"Yes, sir?" the voice replied, sounding sleepy.

Cahill sighed, closing his eyes and pausing for a moment. "Ah, sorry Aoife. I forgot the time."

He heard her yawn, "No...no trouble...ahhh...sir."

"I need you to keep tabs on Evie," he explained. "It is urgent."

Aoife seemed to suddenly be wide awake, "Of course. I won't let you down." She paused and cleared her throat, "Sir?"

"Yes, Aoife?"

"Does this have anything to do with Mr. Chromeon?"

Cahill bristled at the name. "It is so much more than that but that definitely is a part." He was fast approaching the palace now and glanced at his watch, "Aoife, I need to go. I'll be in touch as soon as I am out of this audience with my parents."

Cahill heard no reply, only the silent click from the other line. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and made his way inside. He reminded himself to take deep breaths as he walked the ornate halls. When he was a child, Cahill remembered marveling at all the portraits and extravagance in the palace. He recalled the parties they would have, the corporate galas and events he would attend above ground. Now? Now his father had grown too entrenched in the daily business. Now, those portraits stood as testimony of a standard he felt forced to meet, to compete. These were now walls of a prison, not walls of his home. How quickly the tides turned as he grew older, closer to assuming the title, the crown, the throne.

Feeling the thousands of eyes gazing at him from the portraits, the statues, and the guards, Cahill wasted no time to arrive at the throne room. He stopped, smoothing his suit, correcting his hair. He was concerned he wasn't sent to a sitting room or their chambers. This was the throne room. This meant serious business.

With a deep inhale and a curt nod to the guards flanking the door, he was ready. In a single motion, the double doors swung open, giving him way into the room. "Presenting his royal majesty, Prince Cahill," the herald announced. Cahill kept his eyes on the end of the long room, dropping into a deep bow as he entered. As he neared the thrones, he recognized the elders were with them, including Sir Reginald. He silently cursed, fearful the older knight had revealed what he wasn't ready to expose.

Arriving at the end of the carpet, Cahill dropped into another bow. Once he returned back to standing, he walked over to his mother with a smile. "Mother," he murmured, placing a light kiss on her cheek and her hand. He turned, in kind, to his father. "Father," he nodded, no sign of warmth on his face. As he greeted them, two palace attendants hurried in with a chair and he sat by their feet. "To what do I owe this formal pleasure?"

Cahill's amused tone wasn't lost on his father. "Cahill, you cannot joke at a time such as this!"

"Forgive me, Father. But what time is that?" Cahill replied, attempting to move his face to a more neutral expression.

"THIS!" his father roared, his dragon only millimeters from fully emerging. Cahill looked to the direction he pointed and gasped. There, on security footage, was Mr. Chromeon and Cahill in the lobby. No, it wasn't Cahill. It was his dragon.

"Oh shit," Cahill slipped quietly.

"'Oh shit' is right!" his father yelled. Looking up at his father, Cahill could see his mother attempting to calm him. Her hand was perched delicately on his. He watched as his father's dragon retreated. With a single breath, he noticeably relaxed and looked Cahill in the eyes. "What happened, son?"