“Some are,” Grald admitted. “But they will come to see the logic behind your creation. By ruling humans, you will ensure that our future is safe and secure. Because of you and those like you, ordinary humans will come to worship us, hold us in reverence and awe. They will abandon the God of their imagination, a God they cannot see, and turn to dragons.”

“Your kind will be the true rulers, then, not us?”

Grald made a dismissive gesture. “Only in the larger matters. We dragons care nothing for the day-to-day life of these worms. We might go for years without intervening. So long as the humans remain harmless. And you and your kind will see to that.”

“I see. Your plan to conquer humans starts with my brother’s kingdom.”

“And you will lead the army against him,” said Grald.

“I will?” Ven was incredulous. He gave a dismissive laugh. “I want no part of this.”

“I know,” said Grald, and he sighed deeply, his voice laden with sorrow and regret. “I know.”

“Draconas did you no favors by hiding you from me,” Grald continued. “He should have let me raise you, as I raised the others, to be proud of what you are. If he had, then I might not have been forced to . . .”

Grald raised his heavy shoulders and let them drop. “I could have trusted you. But your mind is tainted. You have turned against me. You have turned against your own family.”

Ven’s unease was growing. He was alone with a dragon who, even in human form, was a formidable opponent.

“There are none to help you, Ven,” said Grald quietly, reading his son’s thoughts. “Not Draconas, who has his own problems. Not your precious, magic-wielding brother. Ven. Short for Vengeance. Yes, I know. I have known for a long time. You should have killed me before now. You might have been able to do it—taken me by surprise. Caught me unawares. Fear held you back. Fear that is inherent in the human part of you. If I had raised you, you would not know fear. As it is, I will have to work hard to eradicate that weak part of you when—”

Grald paused.

“When what?” Ven was having trouble breathing. His chest was tight, his mouth dry, his throat constricting. Grald was right. Fear’s poison coursed through Ven’s veins, debilitating, weakening.

“Look behind me,” said Grald. “See through the illusion. Others cannot, but your eyes can penetrate the magical veil, can’t they, Dragon’s Son? Just like they penetrated the wall, so that you could help your brother escape. There will be no such escape for you.”

Ven saw a tomb. He had no need for the dragon to tell him whose tomb it was. Vague and horrifying memories came to him, memories of Bellona telling him about his mother and a tomb and a bleeding body sealed inside darkness and agony for years on end . . .