Dracos unfolded his arms and stepped forward, his boots crunching softly against the snow.
The elder stiffened slightly.
It wasn't fear—but wariness. After all, the other person was a Monarch, and although his Kingdom wasn't as prosperous as the Big Four, he was a force to be reckoned with.
Furthermore, even the Supreme Dragon Court kept a close eye on him, suspecting that he let on more than he revealed.
Dracos's presence expanded subtly. The cold around them thickened. A beautiful sheen of frost spread outward from his boots, coating the ground. And then the Ice Monarch finally spoke.
"No."
One word. It was calm, sharp, and final.
The elder's eyes narrowed. "You would stand against the Court? Tsk. We knew this day would come."
Dracos tilted his head slightly, his hair shifting with the breeze. "I stand for Frostpire."
The elder's gaze sharpened, a big red vein throbbing on his forehead. "Helping a rogue hybrid is treason."
