Page 18 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

“I will be there soon, I promise.” Zander collects my hands in his. “But first I must learn what has happened to Atticus. And I must reclaim my city.”

My mouth gapes. “You’re going to Cirilea now?” The memory of how I left it—in flames and chaos, with Gesine’s lifeless body slung over Zorya’s shoulder—flares in my mind.

“I must. I cannot waste a moment.”

“But Malachi is coming.” And very likely aiming for that same throne.

“All the more reason to secure it before he has the chance. I will present myself as the king returned and make it known the strength of my allies should anyone choose to challenge me. Abarrane will come with me. Once that is done, I will find you in Ulysede.”

That’s as much an order from Zander to stay put as I have ever received. “But what about the rift? Those fucking things are going to crawl up out of the Nulling again tonight and—”

“That is not our role.”

“But I’m a key caster.” That is exactly my role.

“Last night, you needed to be a key caster, and you did so remarkably. But today, you are a queen, and kings and queens do not sit idly waiting for mindless beasts to emerge from the ground each night when so many political pieces are in play. We have important work that no one else can do,” he says evenly. “Between Gaellar, Kienen, and the Shadows, the rift is in capable hands. I will leave Elisaf to guard over Lord Telor, one of our most valuable allies. Send Caindra to patrol tonight while you rest, if she is willing. And I will return to you as soon as I am able.” Zander’s intention dawns on me as he eyes the orange dragon with grim determination.

Beside me, Jarek curses.

Abarrane’s face fills with horror. “Fates, no. Absolutely not.”

6

Zander

My boots land on the grass with a soft thud. I brace my hands on my knees and grant myself a moment to settle after the terrifying flight that began moments after Romeria invited help from Caindra’s companion. The request, spoken out loud as a question—Would it be possible?—hung like sodden undergarments for a few beats and then, without warning, the orange dragon charged forward, scooping up Abarrane and me in its claws before I had time to react.

I’m not sure I breathed the entire time in the air.

I appreciate Jarek’s stark warning when I suggested the swifter form of transportation. There were moments when I was sure I would slip through its grip and plummet to the ground, and other moments where I felt it might drop me intentionally. How Romeria handles such travel with grace is beyond me.

“Do they make saddles large enough for these creatures?” This dragon must have a name, as Caindra does. I wish I had one to use.

Abarrane answers by leaning over and heaving the meager contents of her stomach, her complexion a sickly green.

If this were under different circumstances, I would mock her for her fragility. But I can’t find the humor in anything as I take in the carnage over the rolling green hills normally known for their fertile soil. Now, they’re drenched in the blood of countless bodies, lying scattered in various states of dress, most wearing Cirilea’s flame crest on their armor. An odor lingers in the air, the beginnings of rot. These bodies have been here for days.

Tents are slashed and caved in, suggesting a surprise overnight attack while soldiers slept. Aside from a horse grazing by the tree line, a curious green bird that flutters around us, and copious flies laying eggs, there are no signs of life.

Kier’s silver and red banner flutters in the light breeze next to the green and gold of Kettling. There is no mistake who has claimed victory over this massacre.

My molars grind as I regard my faithful Islorian soldiers, dead thanks to the games of those in power and those who angle for it. I should have killed Adley years ago. Someone else would have risen to his place, though. Maybe someone worse.

Still, I should have killed him.

Abarrane wipes the spittle from her jaw. “When I pledged my sword, it was to die in battle, not plummeting to my death from a beast’s grip.”

“Be thankful we had the option. It would have taken days to reach here by horseback. Though I cannot say this sight brings me comfort.” Especially not after the battleground we just left.

I survey the surrounding forests. Plenty of places for enemies to lie in wait within the trees. “Surely, there are scouts watching us this very moment.” Waiting for Cirilea to send in reinforcements so they can slaughter them too. Where exactly Kier’s army is, I would like to know. “I imagine they’ll reconsider an ambush, given our orange friend.”

“Our orange friend is as likely to kill us as our enemies.” Abarrane eyes the dragon warily.

“They do not know that.” Perhaps I should ask it to char the trees with its fiery breath—if it shares that skill with Caindra.

But we didn’t come here for another battle. We came to learn what has become of my brother, Islor’s current king. “I will corral that gelding over there and then make my way among the dead to—”

The ground trembles as the dragon launches itself into the air.

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