Page 91 of Fear the Flames
“She’s fine,” Cayden answers.
My feet move after five seconds at most, and I hurry after him. I push the flaps open just as he’s about to climb onto his horse. His boot lowers from the stirrup when he looks in my direction. He stalks over to me like he commands the earth itself. When he’s close enough, his hands don’t hesitate to reach out to me like they normally do. Instead, he places them on the sides of my face and threads his fingers through my hair. “Elowen, I will never make you a promise that I can’t keep. I promise I’m coming back.” He gazes at me with absolute certainty. He shouldn’t be able to make promises like that in these circumstances, but I find myself believing him the more I look into his eyes. “I need you to extend me the same trust and promise me that you’ll stay out of the charge.” I try to drop my eyes, but he forces my gaze to him. I don't want him in the battle, and I realize those reasons go beyond the heist.
“I promise,” I mutter, hating the way it tastes. Everything in me rebels at staying here, away from the four people I want to protect from the kingdom that tortured me. His harsh eyes soften at my words, and he lets out a sigh of relief. He strokes his thumbs against my cheekbones and opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by a deep battle horn cutting through the air.
It’s starting.
His eyes dance over my face again as he slowly detangles his fingers from my hair. Our gazes stay locked on each other as he walks backward, and only part when he must turn away to get on his horse. He swings himself up but cranes his neck in my direction.
“If you feel left out, I’ll find someone for you to stab later,” he calls out over his shoulder.
“I’d like to stab you.” I cross my arms over my chest, not hiding the annoyance in my tone.
His grin widens. “I love it when you sweet-talk me.”
“The both of you better stay alive,” I call out.
“I have to; I still owe you that drink,” Ryder responds, recalling the night he brought me to their house. The pair turn away and ride toward the first line. Cayden didn’t tell me which direction he’s going in, only that they will split at some point, but I think it’s best I don’t know where he is. I don’t trust myself, just as much as he doesn’t trust me at the moment.
I turn away from the path that Cayden and Ryder race down and walk back into the warmth of the tent. My hands wrap around the strap of Finnian’s satchel and carry it into my room. He has his own tent, but he’ll be staying here for the days that Cayden and I are in Imirath. He told Ailliard he’ll be guarding me. My body sinks into one of my chairs, but my limbs are restless. My hands tap against my thighs, my feet start to tap against the carpet, and then I start alternating patterns of feet and hand tapping.
“I hate this,” I groan, looking for something to do. I’ll go mad if I just sit here, staring at the tent walls. My hand closes around the romance book I was reading a few days ago before Finnian and Cayden interrupted me. The couple was on the cusp of kissing, so at least it’s an exciting part of the story. I kick my feet onto the coffee table and rest the book on my lap, attempting to read the first sentence, but fail. I try again, but my eyes dance across the page. I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut before opening them again, but my ability to focus doesn’t improve. My frustration results in me tossing the book across the room, and I shove my face into my hands. My head snaps up when I hear the book land with a loud flop against the floor. Anxiety wraps around my heart, and I hurry over to where it landed.
“I’m sorry,” I say to the book as I dust off the cover and scan it for damage. “Gods!” I shriek when I realize I’m talking to a book. I’m losing my mind. My hand places the book gently on the table and gives the cover a little pat before I straighten up. Obviously, I won’t be reading while I wait for everyone to get back.
My fingers fiddle with the ends of my hair but cringe when some of the pieces break off and wrap around my fingers. I shake out my hands and walk over to my mirror to braid my hair. My fingers twist my strands extremely slowly, but I manage to finish the braid before one of them magically appears to tell me the charge is over and they’re all safe.
Surprisingly, I’m not wearing armor. I wouldn’t be dumb enough to rush into battle without leathers and armor, so my outfit today is to protect me from making a rash decision. I’m wearing my brown fleece-lined leggings paired with a black cotton shirt. My leather waist corset hugs me, and several knives are strapped along my thighs. I may not be running into battle, but I’m never without a weapon.
I toss my braid over my shoulder and head back into Cayden’s room. I’ll continue analyzing the maps for the journey. We still have to figure out a way to get back to Vareveth. Nobody has brought it up. We’ve just been focusing on getting to and into the castle. I think the journey home, if it happens, is going to be unpredictable.
My hand stills as thousands of war cries filter through the air, penetrating the tent. A leftover cup of tea clinks against the saucer it sits upon while the ground vibrates beneath my feet.
The air in my lungs feels tight.
The fighting has begun.
I glance toward the front of the tent. I could ride down to the first line to overlook the battle. I’ve never seen a battle before, so maybe it’ll be good for me to observe.
No.
I’ll be productive in a different way. My shaking hand reaches toward the list Saskia was writing and compare it to the largest map on the table. My fingers dance along each point we planned out, committing it to memory. Once we get to the caves and past the army, we can do our best to avoid patrols and kill when necessary.
A large crash shakes the ground, and the teacup falls to the floor, landing with a dull thump against the rug.
The crash sounded like it happened on this section of the front lines.
That’s where Finnian is.
That’s where Saskia is.
Fuck this.
ChapterThirty-Seven
Irush around the table and through the front of the tent, forgoing a cloak and running headfirst into the cold. The air burns my throat, but I force myself to increase my pace. I can’t stop the images of a mangled Finnian and a bloody Saskia flashing in my mind.
There are more people in the camp than I anticipated there would be. I weave between everyone and break the third line, pushing onward to the second line. It’s far, but it’s within my sight. My legs cry out for a break, but their pleas are silenced by my need to get to Finnian and Saskia. The best-case scenario is that they’re unharmed and that whatever caused that large crash missed them. But if it’s anything less than the best case, I need to get them out of there.
