Page 71 of Fear the Flames
I reach up and put both of my hands on his face, trying to divert his eyes away from the lusty paragraph he’s glued to, but he keeps maneuvering the book within his sight and out of my reach. “What an interesting position the author has described! Do you want to try it? I think we could make it work.”
I rip my hands from his face, letting out a growl of frustration, and stalking toward Finnian. “I’m going to kill you too!” He’s laughing too hard to respond as Cayden continues to read the filthy paragraph aloud.
“Oh! I got to my favorite part.” I freeze in my advance on Finnian and whip my head toward Cayden, who wears a rare broad smile. “She refers to herself as a cream-filled pastry. I bought you this one because you love pastries!”
Finnian claps his hands behind me in silent fits of laughter, sucking in a deep inhale and bursting into a fit of unbecoming snorts. I rush forward while Cayden looks down at the book. By the time he glances up, he doesn’t have time to support my weight as I tackle him onto my bed. My legs straddle him, and just as my fingers brush against the soft cloth of the cover, he wraps an arm around my waist and slams me onto his lap. I struggle against his hold while reaching for the book, not realizing I’m grinding against him until I feel him harden beneath me.
My movements immediately still, and I meet his eyes. “If you wanted me in your bed, you could have asked nicely, angel.” He still wears a broad smile, and I realize how good it looks on him. I’ve seen many expressions on him, but there’s something so beautiful about catching a smile from someone that rarely deals them out. Yes, happiness is Cayden’s best look, even if it’s the rarest. The selfish part of me is glad I’m one of the only people that gets to see him like this.
To the rest of the world, he’s the fearsome and harsh Commander of Vareveth. But when he’s here, he’s the man that buys me romance books and throw pillows. His laughter is hoarse, deep, and rich; it’s like the sound has to make its way through rusty pipes after years of neglect. I’ve never heard him laugh like this before or seen an unrestrained smile, a genuine smile, on his face. He must notice something change in my gaze because he licks his lips, and the humor in his eyes is beginning to heat into something else entirely. Feeling a surge of confidence, I lean closer to him.
“Oh yeah?” I murmur, bringing my lips inches from his and sliding my hands forward. I see the moment he forgets about the book entirely; his pupils consume his irises.
I slide my hands further up the comforter and wrap them around the book. He realizes what I’m doing too late because I shoot away from him with the book in my hands and bring it down to hit him on the forehead.
“That’s what you get, prick!” I shout, hugging the book safely to my chest. The heat stays in his eyes, as does his arm around my waist, but an easy smile settles across his lips. A thunderstorm crack is felt in my chest when the magnitude of being the source of his happiness in this moment hits me. “Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?” I ask, smiling down at him.
“Yes!” I hear two voices yell in unison. I turn toward the entryway of my room and spot Saskia and Ryder.
“Don’t take her side.” Cayden sits up and stands from the bed, sliding me down his body to set me on the floor. I try not to focus on how good that felt, but it’s hard not to when I was just in his lap, and his hands remain firmly on my waist.
“I can’t argue with logic,” Ryder says with a shrug of his shoulders.
ChapterThirty-One
My heels click against the tile floor as Ailliard escorts me to the ballroom. The last few days have been filled with heist planning and book translating. I think there’s more caffeine in my body than water or blood at this point. So far, the two best options to infiltrate the Imirath castle are the dungeon door and the back gate that Saskia mentioned. If we go through the back gate, we’ll have the cover of the castle gardens, but we don’t have their guard rotation schedule. Neither option is fantastic, so Saskia is gathering more intelligence from her spies before we finalize the route. I offered to put the amulet back on but was met with a sharp and unanimous no. Magic can be unpredictable, especially when we don’t know the source of the amulet’s magic. Cayden kept his word on communicating more information to me. Both he and Ryder spent time debriefing me on numbers, strategies, tactics, and the names of different members of the army.
My dress glitters in the candlelight that illuminates the hall. Saskia and I sent designs to one of her favorite shops, but she must have altered mine because the embroidery that was added makes the dress far more beautiful than what my mind originally conjured. The ball gown consists of an emerald green satin corset embroidered with gold vines that creep upward from the bottom of my skirts. The bottom flares out around my waist and flows with me as I walk. It’s sleeveless, but the few strands of gold beads that drape over my upper arms creates the illusion of them. It’s enchanting. It’s the type of dress I’ve only seen in my dreams. When I first saw myself in the mirror, gold crown and all, I didn’t feel out of place. I felt like I wanted to reach into my memory and give an old version of myself a hug so that she could know we have finally made it.
After leaving Aestilian, I’ve killed a vextree, seen my cell again, faced down assassins, and secured a steady food supply for my people.
I’m not a prisoner.
I’m not a princess in hiding.
I’m the Queen of Aestilian and I’m reclaiming my life.
“Give me a rundown of what I’m walking into,” I say, sauntering over to one of the mirrors in the hall to fluff my hair and check my lipstick. Hyacinth gave me voluminous curls and a more dramatic eye than I usually go for, but her skillful hand applied everything to perfection. The black winged liner makes my eyes stand out like dying embers surrounded by charcoal at the bottom of a hearth.
“When you walk in, you’ll be entering the ballroom from the top of a staircase, so don’t fall,” Ailliard jests. I snicker before he continues. “Eagor and Valia want to make a show of it, so the treaty will be signed in the middle of the evening. You, Cayden, and the Dasterians will be at your own table because everyone wants to see you together as a united front.”
“I’m beginning to think the majority of politics is a show.” I gesture down my green and gold dress, the colors of Vareveth. Not that I mind, it’s one of my favorite color combinations.
“You wouldn’t be entirely wrong,” he agrees. “When it comes to dancing, there will be many Lords of Vareveth present tonight, you should dance with a few of them, but you don’t necessarily have to. However, you should definitely dance with Eagor; that’ll most likely be the first dance of the evening.” He steps forward when I turn away from the mirror and clasps my hand in his, bringing it to his mouth to place a kiss. “You’ll be fine. If you need to get out of a dance, then just signal me over, and either Finnian or I will cut in. Enjoy tonight. You fought to be here; nobody has the right to revel in this ball more than you do.”
Pride wraps around my heart and tightly squeezes it; tears prick the corners of my eyes. My life could have been so many different things, but I don’t dwell on all that could have been because I intend to make something of the life I have. Ailliard can read the thankfulness in my eyes, but I don’t trust my throat to get the words out. Words seem to fail me when I need them most.
He pats my hand before letting go. Garrick never looked at me with anything other than disgust, and that probably distorted my image of love, but I feel like Ailliard is looking at me as a father would. “I have to go; I want to get to my seat before you make your entrance.”
“I’ll try not to fall,” I say as he slips around the corner to enter the ballroom through a different entrance. His laughter floats down the hall in his wake.
Noise filters through the tall double doors I stand behind. The gold detailing swirls in rich strokes across the white paint. I’ve never been inside of their ballroom; Valia wouldn’t let anyone other than servants near it while they prepped for the ball. Braxton, one of Cayden’s generals, steps forward to knock on the door, alerting someone on the other side that I’ve arrived. The knock is answered with another knock. Whoever is on the other side must have been pressing their ear to the door if they were able to hear that. Three loud taps vibrate against the floor, and the chatter dies down. I smooth my hands down the front of my dress and square my shoulders after tossing my hair behind them.
“Esteemed guests of King Eagor Dasterian and Queen Valia Dasterian. It is with the utmost honor that I present to you, Her Majesty Queen Elowen Atarah of Aestilian, Princess of Imirath, The Dragon Queen!”
I raise my chin as the doors swing open, engulfing me in a symphonic song played by the orchestra Valia must have hired. Strings are plucked, and keys are played, producing an angelic tune. My feet glide forward into the golden light produced by several chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The ballroom itself bewitches me. Thick green vines creep up the walls and drape across the ceiling, some even hang down, and all are dotted with small white and purple flowers. It looks more like an enchanted forest than a ballroom. From the top of the stairs, the guests that crowd the dancefloor appear as a sea of vibrant colors and jewels, ranging in shades from the brightest pinks to the deepest blues.
My eyes drift to the dais, which looks like it’s made of twisting tree roots. In the midst of several Vareveth advisors stands Ailliard, Finnian, Saskia, and Ryder. Finnian’s smile beams across the ballroom. The white and sage green tailored suit he wears makes his ginger hair stand out like the first rays of sun over snowcapped mountains. Saskia is next to him in a crimson velvet gown, looking every inch a queen. Her box braids are piled in a bun atop her head, and her face is framed by two loose braids accessorized with gold beads. Ryder’s curls are perfectly sculpted, much like the midnight blue tunic he wears that hugs his muscular frame.
