Page 17 of Fear the Flames
It lands an inch above the one I previously threw.
Years of dedication have enabled me to throw as well as I do. I’ve never been a gifted person; any skill I have has required me to spend time learning the craft. But even when everything else feels like a hurricane of chaos, I have my blades to guide me through the storm. I’ve always pushed myself to be better, to throw one more knife, to be stronger, to get ahead of threats, to outrun my demons.
I throw the next knife.
It lands an inch under the first knife I threw.
I will survive this war just as I’ve survived everything else. Cayden Veles made a deal with me, but he doesn’t need to tell me I’m worth it—I know I am.
I throw the last knife, finishing off the perfect line I created.
My hands have stopped shaking, my breathing is even, and I don’t feel the need to scream even though I’m still upset. I see Finnian walking over to me from the corner of my eye.
“Thank you for saying what you did,” I say, recalling his final words to Ailliard.
“I hate how he speaks to you when he’s upset,” he answers.
“I know,” I mutter.
“It’s not right.” I glance at him, and he must see the mixed emotions in my eyes. I know I’m worth an alliance, but I’ve always struggled with accepting the fact that Ailliard shouldn’t speak to me in the way Finnian hates. “It’s not,” Finnian reaffirms.
I nod, pressing my lips together while facing my target again. I inhale a steady breath, “Ailliard has a flaw in his logic.”
“Which flaw are you referring to?”
“The entire time, he just kept worrying about Imirath coming for me,” I drag my eyes up and down the perfect line of knives, “but Imirath has no idea what’s coming for them.”
ChapterEight
Ishould move, but the sun feels too good. After the chaos the past few days have entailed, a slow moment is exactly what I need. We’re having one of those random warm days before fully switching over to winter. Finnian left a few hours ago to spend some time working with the town blacksmith, Blade. It’s a nickname, but he insists everyone calls him that. A man dedicated to his trade. Blade took Finnian under his wing when he was fifteen, and Finnian has loved the craft ever since. For my eighteenth birthday, Finnian gifted me twin dragon daggers—curved blades with dragon-shaped hilts. For my twentieth birthday, he gifted me a gold crown that resembles tree branches twining together. I would be lying if I said I didn’t shed a few tears when I received both gifts.
I look around at my dying garden and feel a pang of sadness—I won’t be here for the next bloom. I’m sure Vareveth has gardens, much more extravagant than mine, but nothing that will bring me the same sense of peace. I originally took up gardening because I had to. Growing any kind of seeds that I could get my hands on, berries, vegetables, herbs. Sometimes I would even uproot plants and bring them back here.
Now, I garden because I enjoy it. I still need the food I harvest, but I also grow flowers, and other unsavory plants in the corner of the garden…hemlock, bloodroot, nightshade, and snakeroot, to name a few. I think it’s ironic that poisonous plants often grow the prettiest flowers. Always underestimated by onlookers until they feel the deadly sting.
My head is tilted back on the cushioned wicker chair when I hear footsteps approaching, not Finnian’s footsteps. They wouldn’t be as tentative. “Ailliard,” I greet without opening my eyes. It was good to have the target practice and time to cool off. My anger is still ripe, but I’ve tucked it into a neat little box and can open it as I please.
His footsteps speed up slightly after I acknowledge him, and the chair beside mine squeaks as he sinks into it. Ailliard isn’t a father figure, he’s an uncle, but he did help raise me. I’ve learned to come to terms with the fact he must have known what Garrick ordered. He’s never confirmed it, but as a queen’s guard, how could he not know what was happening to me in the castle? I’ve never had the courage to ask him because I don’t know how to move on if he confirms it. He knows why I hate Garrick, but he was never present for any of my beatings. I’ve only told him some of what happened, but that’s not because I don’t trust him; I just don’t like reliving the memories. Talking can’t change what happened to me.
“I—” he begins before cutting himself off. I tilt my head forward and glance at him; a crease forms between his brows, and his lips press into a thin line. “I regret the way yesterday went,” he finishes.
Don’t know what you’re talking about. I think it went great,dies on my tongue. I keep my mouth shut; my lips serve as a dungeon to my sarcastic comments. I have two forms of defense other than fighting—sarcasm, and humor.
“It got too heated. I spoke from a place of fear; I let it transform into anger and didn’t give you a chance.” He drums his fingers against the chair. “If it’s alright with you, I would like to try again. To discuss it without lashing out.”
Or condescending me like I’m a child,I wish to reply, but don’t. “That’s fine with me,” I agree. I don’t tell him it’s okay because it isn’t. I just want to move on. This isn’t a battle that needs to be dragged out.
He blows out a low breath, “Is the Commander of Vareveth blackmailing you in any way? Because if he is—”
“He’s not,” I shoot out. White hot anger presses against the box I locked it in. With more effort than it should take, I rein it back in. There’s just something about Ailliard already forming an opinion of Cayden without him being here to defend himself that annoys me. Cayden may be infuriating, but he was never condescending.
If any of you touch her, you die...and I promise to make it painful.
Oh yes, that creeps back into my mind. The finality and protectiveness in his tone cause goosebumps to rise on my arms.No, it must be the wind causing that. Cayden just did the friendly thing. It’s the ally thing to do, to defend each other. It’s like giving your neighbor some extra sugar. I shift in my seat, physically forcing his voice out of my mind.
“Okay,” Ailliard says slowly. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into by leaving Aestilian. Assassins will come. Your father will use all his power to get to you.”
“I did not spend years sharpening my skills, only for them to dull with time. Besides, I’ll have an army between us. I used to only have a few floors to protect me from him, and we both know how well that turned out,” I state in a cold tone. “I may not have all the answers, but I won’t sit by and continue to do nothing.”
