"Hiss... skraa..."
Suddenly, a piercing shriek rose from below the cliff, followed by a dull scraping sound-the friction of a dragon's claws gripping rock.
Corlys frowned and looked up to see a crimson dragon with a serpentine body poking its head over the edge of the cliff.
Caraxes's slit pupils were sharp as blades, his blood-red scales gleaming eerily in the afternoon sunlight. He stretched out his snakelike neck, his vast wings blotting out the sun, his sinister appearance radiating an oppressive menace.
"Daemon, you broke your word!" Corlys stepped in front of his wife, Rhaenys, and turned toward the lean figure slowly approaching from the portico.
"Oh? When?" Daemon emerged from the shadows of the portico with a faint smile.
Today, he had changed into another of his signature dark-red princely coats. His long silver-gold hair was loosely tied back, and Dark Sister hung at an angle from his waist. After several days of careful grooming, he looked far more presentable than he had at the banquet a few days earlier, when Grey Ghost had singed his hair into curls.
Innocence shone in his deep-purple eyes-so deliberately that anyone who saw his expression could tell at once that he was playing dumb.
After all, he really was in a fine mood today. His eldest nephew had agreed to accompany him to the Stepstones for a little "fun," and he certainly did not remember promising Corlys anything.
Corlys's expression darkened.
Over the past few days, he had been so busy growing closer to Aegon and envisioning his grand plans that he had forgotten his ally Daemon's "backstabbing." That day on the beach, they had clearly agreed on the script beforehand, yet the bastard had held back and watched as that boy Aegon's dragons battered his eldest son, Laenor, so badly.