his reason for being there — to find out more about the threat of Nikki Donovan, sixteen-year-old Darkling-o’- danger.
“Faeries are naturally curious and extremely protective of their own kind,” he replied after he’d processed it all. “And King Rhys, since the death of his parents, has been attempting to prove himself to his advisers and the rest of his kingdom.”
“He threatened the princess,” Michael said.
My father’s eyes clouded with anger. “He did?”
“Well … not in so many words,” I said quickly. “Seriously, I’m sure he’ll go away eventually. Especially when he realizes the prophecy about me is a false one. My main worry with him is that he’ll tell everyone at school my secret.”
I didn’t exactly know why I was defending Rhys, even in the slightest, but I guess I was. Did I feel sorry for him now that I knew he’d been forced to become king after his parents’ deaths? I did. How was I supposed to know whether that was hard for him? It was an assumption. I didn’t care who you were — human, demon, or faery — losing both your parents at any age would be a terrible thing. I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel if I lost my mom. And, since finding my father after all these years, I didn’t want to think about never seeing him again. The thought made a hard lump form in my throat.
There was silence in the meeting room for a moment. I finally looked up to see my father and Michael exchanging a glance.
“You said the prophecy is false, right?” I asked.
My father nodded. “I did say that.”
“So … why aren’t we celebrating?”
“Nikki, please sit down.”
The panicky feeling I’d had earlier began creeping back up on me. “You said it was
He spread his hands. “And it probably is.”
“I feared what he might do otherwise.”
“So you think there’s a chance there’s some truth to it?” Michael asked.
My father took in a deep breath, his brow creased. “I honestly don’t know.”
That wasn’t very reassuring. “It’s not true. I don’t care what this crazy oracle guy says, there’s no way that I could ever destroy anything or anyone.”
“I know.” His eyes flashed. “Still, it is worrisome. Dragon oracles are rarely wrong when it comes to a prophecy this specific to an individual. And that Kieran said it was related on your birthday, the day you would have begun to manifest your half-demon powers, worries me even more.”
It couldn’t be true. That my father had just been lying to Kieran — faking him out — so he wouldn’t put me under arrest or something and drag me to some Underworld prison, and
“Did you just say
He nodded. “Yes, of course. All oracles are dragons.”
“But not all dragons are oracles,” Michael added.
I pointed at my dragon’s tear bracelet. “Big, scaly, fire-breathing dragons.”
“Much like demons,” my father explained, “dragons are capable of shifting form when it suits them. But yes, they can be big, scaly, and fire-breathing if they choose to be.”
Brain exploding now. “
“They see glimpses of the future and interpret them, then pass this information along to those whom the prophecy affects. They communicate when they have something …
“But …” I licked my dry lips, a thousand questions swirling around in my head. “How can they be in the human world? How can they get through the barrier here?”
“Dragons are the only creatures capable of easily moving between the worlds without using gateways. However, they took an oath of peace centuries ago and are very rarely, if ever, dangerous unless provoked.”
I tried to wrap my head around all of this. I finally sat down in the closest high-backed chair and gripped the edge of the table as if trying to anchor myself. “So that’s why one of their tears works to help me focus my power?”
“A dragon is a very powerful and magical creature. It’ll cry only one tear in its entire existence — at the very moment of its death — a tear filled with all the power it had during its lifetime.” His expression turned grim. “Since dragons are naturally immortal, their death must come at the hands of someone else.”
“You mean when someone kills them?”
“Yes.”
“So the dragon that cried the tear on my bracelet is dead?”
There was a heavy pause before he replied. “That’s correct.”
I shuddered. “This place is so violent — all this talk of killing and death and destruction.”
My father sat down across the table from me. “Is the human world that much more peaceful?”
“It’s different.”
“Yes, I agree with you. But along with all that is light in the human world, there is still much that is dark.”
“Like me?” I looked up at him.
He shook his head. “Don’t even think that.”
“But that’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? That there’s a possibility the prophecy’s true? That I might be like the last Darkling and go postal on everyone?”
He studied me for a moment, a quizzical look on his face. Maybe he’d never heard that particular expression before. “I’m only saying that we must be very careful in future dealings with Kieran and the demon council. They’re the dangerous ones in this scenario.”
I didn’t want to believe it, but now that I knew my father wasn’t entirely confident in the prophecy being a total lie, how was I supposed to be so sure, myself? After all, I’d seen myself in action in total Darkling mode a couple of times now. I’d felt that violence deep inside me that came from using my power. I’d blasted Chris out of the limo at Winter Formal, and only when Michael arrived and helped calm me down did I know I wouldn’t do more damage. The same happened when I’d used my power to stop my aunt. I’d wanted to destroy her, not just protect myself from harm.
What if I really lost control someday?
What if Rhys was right in thinking I was dangerous and deadly?
“Michael, would you be so kind as to fetch us something to drink?” my father asked, studying my stricken expression.
It snapped me out of my thoughts. There was that
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Michael said.
::I’ll be back as soon as I can, Princess.::
I could hear his concern etched into the telepathic message. I watched him leave the room.
My father watched me watch him leave the room.
“Nikki,” he began, “about Michael—”
“You said he wasn’t going to be a servant anymore,” I said, surprised at how sharply and forcefully I’d spoken the sentence.
I could tell I’d surprised him. “I know. But I shouldn’t have said that to you or him. I was weakened and not thinking straight at the time.”
“That’s not a good excuse.”
He folded his hands in front of him. “Shadows are servants,” he said firmly.
“I get that.”
