Page 19 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

The horse barely has time to whinny before it’s snatched from its grazing spot. Its bones crunch as the dragon devours it, Abarrane and I looking on. The entire spectacle—how quickly a beast this size can pounce on its prey of choice—has me reaching for flame in case I must defend myself. But there isn’t a hint of one anywhere near us to fuel my affinity. I have nothing but my blade—futile against this beast if it decides it’s still hungry.

The dragon returns to its initial spot, casting a wide shadow over the hill.

“You were saying?” Abarrane asks dryly.

I sigh. “We will search the dead on foot.”

“Your Highness!” Abarrane calls out, hovering at a cluster of bodies. We scoured the entire camp and, not finding Atticus among the debris, moved on to a smaller battleground to the west.

My stomach clenches as I navigate toward her. Despite how deeply my brother betrayed me, despite the reality that his demise will make my reclaiming my throne a smoother process, the thought of him dead—by my hand or another’s—does not bring me the satisfaction I once thought it might.

I brace myself as she flips over a male riddled with wounds, including one earned by an ax cleaved into his armor.

A wave of relief swarms me as I note the beard. “That is not Atticus.”

“No, it is Kazimir, which is the next best thing. He is a growth on your brother’s arse. Where he is, Atticus is always near, especially in battle.”

I scan the bodies for the familiar blond curls and polished armor. “And yet he is not here.” I add after a moment, “Which means Kier has likely taken him captive.” An Islorian king in chains is a powerful bartering chip. Though, a usurper whose realm is in the midst of rebellion? Maybe not as valuable as Kier’s ruler hopes.

Kazimir’s eyelids flutter.

“He lives.” Abarrane stoops to check his pulse. “Barely.”

“Barely is good enough for the healers if we can get him there in time.”

“He will not survive the trip.”

“He has survived this long. Let us pray he can hang on. Kazimir may be the only one who can convince Atticus to ally with us, for Islor’s sake.” He is certainly the best one to shine a light on where my brother’s head has been these last days, and how hard he will battle me for the throne once I reclaim it. “The Kiers will not kill Atticus as long as they think he is valuable.”

Abarrane snorts. “Knowing your brother and his silver tongue, King Cheral will believe he is blessed by Malachi himself.”

“So be it. This is where our search for Atticus must end, then. May the fates grant him strength in whichever dungeon they place him.”

“And this Kierish army?”

I scan the sun’s placement in the sky. We’re moving into midafternoon. “As much as I would like to find them and have the dragon blaze a path through their ranks, I have a throne to reclaim.”

7

Atticus

Briny sea air. That’s the first thing I note when I regain consciousness.

The second is the way my body sways with the soft lull of waves, and the jarring pain in my right shoulder. What was it that … oh, right. An ax found its way between the joint in my armor, cutting through my chain mail and nearly cleaving me in half. That’s what toppled me. Why my head throbs, I can’t recall.

A gruff male says something in Kierish and another laughs.

In all the years I’ve walked this earth, why had I not bothered to learn that language? It would be useful now.

Agony splices my skull as a palm strikes my cheek.

“We know you are awake,” says the man, his accent thick, his words stilted. He smells of stale ale and horseradish.

I wait until the pain subsides and then crack an eyelid. We’re in the wooden hull of a ship. On our way to Ostros, no doubt, so this mortal swine can deliver me to his king for a prize. A quick scan around reveals I am alone with these two.

“You are looking for your army?” The soldier grins, flashing crooked teeth. “They are dead. Every last one of them. I made sure of it.”

With a snarl, I flex against the restraints binding my wrists behind my back, the desire to tear this man’s head from his shoulders invigorating. But all I achieve is more pain and a searing burn against my skin.

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