Page 110 of Fear the Flames
The bones of my corset stab into my ribs, making it hard to breathe. Technically I’m wearing two corsets. My leathers are hidden beneath my maroon ball gown, along with all my knives. Finnian has my swords. Cayden’s knives are hidden beneath his suit pants. One of his swords is sheathed at his waist since most men wear swords with their suits. Ryder has his extra weapons considering Cayden can’t show up to festivities looking ready to murder someone. The scowl he wears on his face always draws enough attention.
“Would you stop staring at everyone like you want to kill them?” I poke him with my elbow, hard enough so he can feel it through the armor he wears under his suit. It’s easy since my arm is laced through his, as it has been since we made it into the general square where pre-ball festivities are being held. Finnian, Saskia, and Ryder are watching our backs from the shadows. We avoided goodbyes, opting for a simpledon’t dieexchanged between us all before leaving the inn.
“What if Idowant to kill everyone here?” Cayden asks.
“Then I’d tell you to wait for nightfall, and I’ll help.” A demur smile spreads across my lips as I tilt my head toward him. His icy glare is replaced with heat in his eyes as he rakes them up and down my body. Half of his face is covered in a simple black mask that tilts up like horns at the top two corners. Saskia couldn’t hide her smirk when I spotted the mask she had chosen for me. The glittery red mask sits across the bridge of my nose and rests upon the tops of my cheeks. The ends flare away from my face, resembling angel wings. My body pulses in tune with my heart as his eyes continue to latch onto me.
“You are the most exquisite creature I’ve ever met.” His words ignite something low in my belly, and my hand subconsciously tightens on his arm—which doesn’t go unnoticed by him. His tongue glides across his lips, knowing he ruffled me. It’s the second time he has done it today.
The first was when he pressed a black velvet choker into the palm of my hand after Saskia finished pinning the front pieces of my hair away from my face with the jeweled pins we stole. The material is wide enough to cover the cut the Imirath soldier gave me. He instructed me to hold my hair as he fastened it around my neck, brushing his fingers over my exposed shoulder blades and down my spine. I nearly lost it and had to grip the counter in front of me when his lips brushed against my neck, and he whispered how beautiful I look in red. He withdrew himself, leaving me a shaking mess in his wake. My only satisfaction came from him needing to adjust his pants before rejoining the group.
We walk through an open tent flap that leads to another place filled with things to marvel at. The tents line the square, and once you make it through all of them, you make it to the castle. I would have preferred to just walk right up to the castle, but we need to blend in. This is our last tent, and the sign for Finnian, Saskia, and Ryder to make their way into the castle through the dungeon. They’ll need a head start to take the key undetected before the ball ends. Our goal is to slip from the ballroom at the peak of the evening. We have already made our way through tents filled with intricate tapestries and paintings, cakes that looked too pretty to eat, spiced meats, bubbling bright drinks, and shimmering jewels the size of my face. Cayden and I never touched any food or drink offered.
The air in this tent is warm and damp, a welcomed respite from the winter night. A wave of color washes over my vision and steals the breath from my lungs. Swarms of deep strawberry red, sunset orange, ocean blue, and forest green petals mingle together in front of us. The colors don’t just stop there; purple, white, black, and colors I didn’t even know existed join the swarm.
I’ve always wanted to see a greenhouse. My small garden in Aestilian could never measure up to the beauty before me. I’m sure the garden that Eagor took me to is beautiful, but I wasn’t able to see it in full bloom. Vines twist together and drape from the ceiling. Lanterns hang down, far enough from the vines so they won’t catch fire. Rows upon rows of flowers create a maze-like structure for us to walk through. I crane my neck upward to watch the lantern light dance along the greenery. I reach my free hand to the side and gently brush my fingers against the silky surface of the flowers. I love the way petals feel between my fingertips.
“Beautiful,” I whisper.
“Incredibly,” Cayden’s low, husky voice drifts down to my ears.
I turn my face, intrigued by his tone, and find him gazing at me. Everything around me fades; the beauty of the flowers and their colorful hues become an afterthought because the only color I’m enamored by is the way hazel looks under dim lantern light. At first, there is only darkness, but the longer you look, the more beauty is revealed—which perfectly describes Cayden. The angel wings brush the tops of my cheeks as a smile blossoms across my face, as pure as the first bloom of spring.
“What?” he whispers. I recall the feeling of his eyes on me last night, keeping me warmer than any blanket could. I tighten my hand on his arm and inch closer to the sound of his voice. We’ve spent almost every day together since I came to Vareveth, and there’s something so intoxicating about knowing I’ve only ever seen him show this rare gentleness to me.
“Nothing,” I murmur. The trance he has on me breaks when a blast of cool air washes over us, and I turn forward. It feels like a dagger stabs me in the chest as anxiety forms a fist around my heart.
The castle stands tall in front of us. It’s beautiful, of course. When something is beautiful, nobody looks to pick it apart. Beauty can be blinding if you only look for it on the surface. The castle stands along the side of a snowy mountain that belongs to the end of the Seren Mountains. Obsidian spires stretch so high into the sky that it’s hard to make out their pointed peaks against the darkness. The castle is made of white bricks with a long cobblestone pathway stretching down from the main entrance. I didn’t imagine returning here, especially not surrounded by a swarm of people eager to enter the doors. The most my imagination ever conjured up was beheading my father in his throne room. I never imagined what it would feel like to look at the castle itself.
I square my shoulders and just focus on getting past the guards without shaking like a leaf. Despite the chill of the winter air, sweat gathers in my palms. Cayden, sensing my nerves, crosses a hand over his body and wraps it around my hand that rests on his arm. I’ve been on plenty of missions before, but there’s something different about facing the place that inspired your bloodthirst—the place that broke a girl begging for mercy and forged a woman that creates her own fate in this world with a blade. The world is a cruel place, but I don’t intend on being at its mercy ever again.
We begin our ascent up the path. My emotions feel like they’re overpowering me, flooding through me like I’m drowning from the inside out; anger, anxiety, bloodlust, doubt. It twines together, shooting up from the shadowy depths below me, wrapping around my limbs and throat. They’re pulling me under, choking me, and the blue water around me turns red.
We drift away from the guards, walking under the first drawbridge along the walkway. “Are you okay?” Cayden asks, low enough so only I can hear.
“I’m fine,” my voice shakes, but not with tears nor any emotion bordering on sadness.
“Don’t lie to me, Elowen.”
“The castle looks lovely from the outside.” My hand flexes at my side; I want to hold a damn knife. He glances at me, taking in my current state, and leads us toward the side of the path. Half of my face is covered, so all people can really see is my scowl, not that they pay any mind to it. The crowd is fixated on getting into the castle and handing their invitations off to the guards at the door. My jaw clenches so hard that my teeth throb. Cayden can feel the way my body is vibrating against his. Gods, I wish I could turn this off. I don’t want to have a reaction to my past. I want to be able to face it with squared shoulders and a raised chin. Not like this—burning with anger.
Instead of forcing me to look at him and speak, he circles behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. Holding me securely against him as I continue to face the castle. I rest my hands on top of his.
“Close your eyes,” Cayden commands.
“Why?” I ask, not in the mood for games.
“My statement didn’t require a response.” I try to pry his arms off when his comment drifts down to me, but they stay firm around me. Not even budging. Not wanting to draw attention to us, I slip my eyes shut and give in.
“They’re closed,” I sigh.
“When you look at the castle, what do you see?”
A prison.
A cage.
The root of my nightmares.
