Page 75 of Fear the Flames
“Eagor and Valia weren’t smart with their funds,” he begins, spinning me again. “The commander before me benefited from their carelessness; he pocketed a portion of the funds designated for the army and took a larger salary. I was his First General, and I challenged him.”
“What did challenging him entail?” Cayden never speaks of his past. It’s hard to remember my steps when his story is enrapturing me more than the music.
“His pride made him stupid. He was able to choose the terms since his position was superior to mine.” A cruel smile slides onto his face, but rather than perturbing me, it just makes me more intrigued. I want him to show me every part of him that’s stained his hands, so I don’t have to worry about my hands sullying his. “He chose a fight to the death; you can put the details together yourself. I remedied the Dasterians’ mistake after I ascended in rank and kept their secret. They’ve been in my debt ever since.”
He hoists me off the ground when the music builds to a crescendo. It feels like the harpist is plucking the strings of my heart, demanding it to beat out of my chest to the tune of a song I’ve never heard. Cayden and I feel like a melody long forgotten, hidden in a dusty attic somewhere and neglected for years. Only now, someone plucks the sheet off a shelf and plays the notes on a rusty piano.
My arms wrap around his neck, and my head tips forward on its own accord, pressing our foreheads together. Then, at a sinfully languid pace, he glides my body down his and sets me on the ground again. The song is over, our chests are heaving, and our breaths are mingling. His arms stay wrapped around my waist, and mine remain locked around his neck—our own private universe amid chaos. We’re dancing with our hands tied, but we put the ropes there ourselves.
Stars dance in his eyes as he looks down at me, and the front pieces of his hair tickle my forehead. “Dance with me again,” he demands.
A smile plucks at the corners of my lips. “Some people may deem it improper.”
“Do you think I give a damn what people think?” He levels me with a glare. “I personally think we would be doing our appearances a large favor.”
“Is that so?” I quirk a brow.
“It’ll show that I’m invested and that you have good judgment for dancing with me instead of any other man here.”
“I don’t know,” I tease. “I’ve seen some very eligible dance partners in the crowd.”
“None worthy of you,” he states, and my heart truly feel like is has grown wings.
“Well, if it’s for appearances, then I suppose we must.” I slide one hand down his neck, dancing it across his firm shoulders, and down his lapel before grasping his hand in mine. “I don’t want to go back to our table.”
His eyes flash with something dark before he blinks it away. “Then it will be my honor to dance with you the entire night.”
“What if I get tired?” I ask, smiling up at him.
“I’ll carry you out of here,” he says, smiling down at me. We’re still in our own world amongst the crowd. But in this world, our world, Cayden Veles doesn’t have reservations toward smiling.
“Even if I step on your toes?”
“Always.” He whisks me away into a new dance. His hold never falters the entire night, and he always pulls me close to him after spinning me away, molding our bodies together as stars mold constellations in the sky. We don’t stop dancing until the night is over and I can no longer feel my feet. He twirls me until the only person in the ballroom I can see is him.
ChapterThirty-Two
Steam rises from my cup of coffee as I lounge on my bed, flipping through one of the herbal healing books I brought back from the border. The dragon books were staring me down while I chose this one, but I’d rather not accidentally read an account of a dragon burning someone that wronged them.
Now that Aestilian is taken care of, the only thing to focus on is the dragons. The guilt I feel for leaving them has amplified tenfold over the course of this morning. It’s part of the reason I had breakfast in my room rather than one of the sitting rooms. It’s intimidating that I’ll know how they’ve been living within the next few days.
I hear footsteps approaching down the hall, but I don’t have to see Cayden know it’s him. Not only have I developed a keen awareness of his presence, but I can also recognize the pattern and weight of his footsteps. His door creaks open and shuts while heavy boots patter over to our connecting door that remains open. He saunters through, armed to the teeth. After the ball was over, he escorted me back to my room, but neither of us took it further than that. We left our night as dedication to the alliance, and neither of us will tear down that facade. It’s easier to take comfort in an illusion than bare the naked truth.
“You look comfortably murderous today,” he says with a smile in his eyes as he looks me over. I’m wearing an oversized burgundy sweater and brown leggings with knives strapped down my legs and a sword belt around my waist.
“There’s no rule that says I can’t be cozy and stabby at the same time.” I shut the book and climb off my bed to put my boots on. He mentioned he has something to show me, so I assume it’s ready now. “It throws people off. It’s like a sneak attack.”
“I never said I didn’t like it.” He shrugs his black and silver armor-tipped shoulders. “I find it endearing.”
I finish tying the laces on my boots and stand from the chair while walking over to him. “Did you find it endearing when I held a knife to your neck?”
“No, Elowen.” There’s nothing soft in his gaze as he stares down at me. There’s hardly anything soft about him. I’m convinced he’s made more of ice than flesh. He licks his lips, and his gaze darkens when my traitorous eyes fall to them, “I felt something entirely different when you held a knife to my neck.”
He doesn’t wait for my reply before cutting across the room and stepping into the hall. I follow his path down a spiral staircase that stretches all the way to the bottom floor of the castle. Our boots slap against stone as we descend into the depths. I’m slightly dizzy when we reach the bottom, but I shake it off and keep following Cayden’s path through an exit.
“Start loading the heaviest things first.” My head turns in the direction of a voice and commotion. A woman stands several feet in front of us with a scroll in her hands, calling out directions to workers loading a wagon.
It’s Aestilian’s wagon. Crates of food line the grass surrounding the wagon, ready to be lifted. Vegetables, fruits, meats, bread, grains, oats, and spices all peak out at me. I used to watch crates of food be carried into taverns and restaurants while I was on missions, unable to carry all that food back to Aestilian. It was an overwhelming feeling of helplessness, but right now, it feels like a storm that has rained on me for years is finally passing, and daylight is caressing my face. I may be here, but Aestilian will live on. The guards that retrieve the wagon will probably have to leave it at the foot of the mountain and send down groups to carry up portions, but I don’t care how they get it up the mountain. They’re getting it. I didn’t fail them.
