Page 138 of Wrath of the Dragons
I keep the bond open, letting their anger and pain flood through me as they burn and decimate our prison. Garrick tried to take everything from me, from us, but I sank my claws into fate and ripped it to shreds. My anger has simmered for years and boils from me now, scalding all in my path.
“Face me, father!” I shout. “I traveled all this way; will you not say hello to your daughter?”
After all the spires have fallen, Sorin bathes the roof in a blaze so hot I feel it pulsing against my cheeks. Smoke stings my eyes, and dust floats into the air as, stone by stone, half the roof collapses in on itself. Sorin latches his claws on to the crumbling ledge, throwing his head back and roaring.
“FUCKING FACE ME!” I stand on Sorin’s back, but all that does is give me a fresh perspective through the green, silver, and lavender flames. With the state of the castle, my father will be forced to flee. Towers tumble into the canal at the base of it, blazing ramparts fall haphazardly, and what’s left of the structure wobbles and sways as the assault continues. I project Garrick’s face into my mind and keep the bond open in my chest as I take my seat again. Even if he escapes my sight, he will never escape the dragons.
Sorin’s head cuts to the left and the ledge collapses in his wake as he shoots us toward the ground on the eastern side of the castle. Mad laughter bubbles up my throat when I realize why he acted so abruptly.
Garrick Atarah is finally outside his precious castle walls.
Calithea bursts through a crumbling tower, roaring as she joins us,and I command Basilius to attack the wyverns now flying toward us. Wyverns are naturally smaller than dragons, but compared to Basilius, they look like hatchlings. Perhaps my father thought he could escape into the Seren Mountains as Cayden and I once did, but the senses of a dragon are too sharp to be evaded by men.
Wards in the shape of a small dome glow at the center of the small royal party, leaving eight guards from Thirwen and Imirath to fend for themselves. They’re not the ones I came to kill, but perhaps there’s some truth in being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They chose their fate when they followed my father and the rulers of Thirwen out of the castle. To their credit, they don’t flee, but their drawn swords are pathetic as Sorin descends upon them and scorches their flesh and the earth beneath them in green flames.
When they clear, nothing but charred bones surround the wards that are still intact. I command Sorin to land in front of them, and Calithea takes the rear. The pair of them slam their tails on either side, locking the rulers and mage within a circle of green and silver scales. They’re shouting at the distressed mage within, and I smile while meeting my father’s dark, fear-filled eyes.
“Zayèra.”
Chapter
Sixty-nine
Elowen
Green and silver flames slamtogether and stretch high above the trees, pushing against each other, mingling and melding, as black-and-white sparks rain down. Within the fire, I listen to the mage scream under the weight of my dragons’ power as she desperately tries to remain strong. Sorin and Calithea continue blowing, but instead of remaining on Sorin, I slide down his wing.
This is our fight, together.
My power pulses under my skin and I close my eyes, picturing a building wave, letting it start out as nothing more than a crest along the surface and watching it become a tidal wave strong enough to swallow a mountain.
I am made of fire, and I do not fear it; I become it.
I open my eyes again, calling Sorin’s and Calithea’s flames to me as I stand evenly between them. Silver flames coil around my left arm and green around my right, and pool in my hands. I meet my father’s gaze though the dragonfire as the tidal wave crashes on the shore, shattering the earth beneath its might. My hands shoot out on either side of me before I slam them together as Zale did back on the ship, and a blade of green-and-silver flames forms between my palms.
It flies forward, and the wards shatter into what looks like a thousand glass shards. My dragons jut their wings out to protect me, themembranous tissue illuminated by the blast, and don’t move from their position until they’re sure I won’t get burned. I step forward as they slowly slide their wings back, keeping them close to me as Sorin snarls low in his throat. My eyes glow gold as I stare down at the group of five sprawled out in the snow. Calithea bites the head off the mage while Sorin swallows her body. Asena told me not every mage has the ability to portal, and I doubt she did or she likely would’ve done so while surrounded by fire, but I can’t risk Garrick being whisked away.
Queen Aveline of Thirwen clings to King Fallon where they’ve collapsed, and a woman shrieks and sobs while grasping at Garrick’s cloak.Ah, his new wife.She doesn’t show signs of pregnancy, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t.
“Don’t fret, lady,” I say. “I didn’t plan on calling you mother. I had one of those already and well…let’s just say the name is a bit of a curse coming from my lips.”
“Don’t speak of your mother,” Garrick states, the first words he’s said to me since I fled Imirath over a decade ago. His voice raises the hairs on the back of my neck, makes bile churn in my stomach, but I show no outward sign of being bothered. Never again will I let him think he has any power over me.
“Or what?” Though I’m looking at my father, it’s through the eyes of an orphan. I never watched his dark hair begin to gray. I never noticed when the lines in his face became etched over time. He may have sired me, but he’s no father of mine. He stands to his full height, which isn’t that impressive, and doesn’t bother offering his wife a hand up. “I see you’re just as charming as you were when I left.” I chuckle. “I thought you’d be taller.”
The other rulers manage to clumsily get to their feet. Fallon keeps a protective arm around his wife. His long blond hair clings to his face, wet from the snow, and her dark hair does the same.
“What will you do to my children?” Queen Aveline asks, her blue eyes blown wide as she glances between the dragons.
“Their fate is not mine to decide. That duty is allotted to your son.” I look to Fallon. “Prince Zarius. Heir to the Thirwen throne.”Fallon’s lips part in a snarl, but before he has the chance to spit vitriol, Calithea shrieks to drown out his voice. “Have some manners, Fallon. Threaten or insult me, and my dragons will be quick to end you.”
“And you won’t?” my father’s wife asks, the tremble in her voice evident.
“I prefer to toy with my prey.”
Stones from the castle continue falling all around us as I look at my father again. It seems fitting that both he and his precious castle will share the same fate on the same day. It’s said that captains go down with their ships, and my father will forever haunt the decimated and broken halls of this place.
I order Calithea through the bond, and everyone takes a step back when my eyes glow gold again. She resists, not wanting to leave me while in the presence of the enemy, but I hold firm in my command. She nuzzles her snout into my side, and I caress her scales without taking my eyes off Garrick.
