Page 111 of Fear the Flames
“A place I want to destroy,” I settle on.
“Good. Now, imagine your dragons flying overhead like they will be tonight. Imagine them burning this place to the ground,” he begins. My heart still pounds in anger, but it’s a different kind. The chaotic rage has been tamed into something akin to determination. He threads his fingers through mine, keeping his arms securely around me. “Imagine all the ways you could make the people in there suffer with just one throw of your knife in the right place. Power is just chaos if you don’t control it and wield it to your benefit.”
“Is that what you do?” my tone is breathless, and fierce flames dance behind my eyelids. In my mind, the spires fall to the ground and shatter against the mountain; their sound is drowned out by mighty dragon cries of war.
“Power kneels at my feet, begging for me to give it a shred of attention,” his dark chuckle dances along the side of my neck. “I’ll make sure you get whatever you want. You want to burn this place? Done. You want to never return here? Done. You want to tear it apart stone by stone? Done.” I want all those things, and I don’t know how that’s possible, but I do. “What do you see now?” he gently inquires.
I swallow, “I see myself standing in the throne room with a bloodied sword in one hand and Garrick’s head in the other while his body lays at my feet.”
“Done,” he whispers into my ear and places a quick kiss on my neck. He loosens his arms around my waist to circle in front of me. My eyes slowly peel open, tamed rage burns inside me and doesn’t threaten to spill out. A savage smirk slides onto my face. “There she is,” Cayden mutters.
Garrick sealed his own fate the day he chose to lock me up. I slide my arm through Cayden’s and walk toward the entrance how I want to enter, shoulders squared and chin raised. Standing in front of my past and facing down all I’ve endured is daunting, but I’m still here, still standing, and still moving forward. Cayden reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out two perfectly forged invitations with silver edges. Finnian and Ryder hung out in a gambling den and spotted the invitation forger rather quickly. All they had to do was bide their time before picking them off someone else that had paid a large sum of money for their authenticity.
Some people make it too easy.
The guard accepts our invitations and waves us forward.
With one simple mistake, Imirath has sparked the beginning of their downfall.
ChapterForty-Six
Aservant takes our cloaks as soon as we cross the threshold. Everyone slowly filters into the open doors at the end of the hall, the ballroom.
“It’s the same,” I whisper. It’s vague enough that only Cayden will understand. There are too many people for me to offer anything other than loose statements. This is exactly what I saw when the snakes led me through the castle. He doesn’t respond, but I know he heard me.
My wavy hair tickles my arms as I glance up at the intricate ceiling. Every detail, from the chandeliers to the staircase, is all the same from the time I wore the amulet. Cayden and I accept two flutes of champagne from an overly eager server and make our way over to stand by one of the pillars that line the ballroom. It gives us a modicum of privacy, but not enough to potentially rouse suspicion. It’s tempting to bring the champagne to my lips, but I just twirl the glass in my hand.
“They should be inside by now,” I say. Cayden surveys the ballroom, his eyes jumping to the guards that are littered throughout. Unlike Vareveth, Imirath’s guards wear white armor with silver accents. Not that I mind considering it makes them easier to spot, which makes them to kill.
“The guards wouldn’t be as relaxed if they were spotted. They would be walking through the crowd or asking people to take off their masks,” Cayden observes.
A woman in a deep purple gown trimmed with white lace glides down the left side of the staircase with a rolled-up scroll in hand. I suppress a groan and lean into the pillar, thinking about how many announcements we’ll have to get through. I’ve never actually had to sit through this part of a ball. The only ball I’ve been to was the alliance ball in Vareveth, and I was the last to enter.
“Is the champagne not to your liking, miss?” a servant inquires, and my spine stiffens. Cayden inches closer to me and opens his mouth to speak, but I place a hand on his chest and force a broad smile onto my lips. It’s the same smile that I’ve used countless times to charm or persuade anyone I needed to.
“It’s too much to my liking, unfortunately. I dearly miss it,” I sigh, removing my hand from Cayden’s chest to place it on my belly. “I won’t be able to have it for quite some time. I just didn’t want to be rude to the servers at the door and decline their generous offer.” The thought of being pregnant terrifies me, but the lie has saved me on numerous occasions.
“Of course, miss. Congratulations!” the servant exclaims, taking the glass from my hand and adding it to her tray. “And you, sir? Would you like a different drink?” Her eyes glance toward Cayden’s untouched champagne glass.
“No, thank you,” he says in a courteous tone while placing his glass on her extended tray. He doesn’t smile at her in the same way I do, but his glare has lessened to a tolerable level. “I’ve decided to refrain from drinking for as long as my wife can’t take part in it.” Cayden emphasizes his point by placing a hand on my back.
My wife.
I fight the chill that threatens to shake my body like wind through an abandoned temple. It’s just a word. It’s just a meaningless word. I keep the smile plastered on my face while the servant looks between us, a smile of her own spreading on her full cheeks.
“That’s lovely,” she beams, “we need more men like you.”
His fingers trace one of the bones of my corset, “There are no men like me.” He directs his statement to the servant, but it feels like he’s speaking to me. I don’t look at him, but can practically feel the inevitable smirk crawling across his lips right now.
“You make a beautiful pair. I hope you enjoy your evening.” The servant curtsies before turning away and carrying our champagne out of view.
“Tell me, how is your evening,wife?” Cayden mumbles in my ear as his hands snake around my waist, not letting the lie drop between us just yet.
“I don’t know,husband,” I play along, leaning into his tall frame and resting the back of my head against his shoulder. I’m not wearing heels, so he’s still several inches taller than me. “It’s wonderful to know we make a lovely couple, but I’ll enjoy some dancing before the night is over.”
“Well, I do love dancing with you. Though I prefer it when you’re the one dancing…on my lap and with far less clothing. No audience this time.” I jab my elbow into his stomach with little force, just enough to make him chuckle. Images of our night at the brothel flash in my mind. “Don’t be bashful, it’s how we made Elowen II,” he jests while tightening his arms around me and rubbing his hands on my stomach, which I attempt to swat away.
“That’s enough from you,” I say through my fit of giggles. His laughter vibrates against my back as he pulls me closer to him. I stop fighting off his pursuit. Instead, I stay locked in his arms, even after the laughter dies down. We stand in comfortable silence as the woman begins announcing the guests.
