Page 4 of Wrath of the Dragons
“No, she doesn’t,” Saskia interjects, hesitating a moment before reaching across the table to take my hand in hers. “You don’t have to hide your pain from us. You can tell us what’s going on in your head.”
Two sets of eyes burn into me, and it feels as if I’m standing aboard a ship, on trial for madness, with weights tied around my ankles. I force another smile, ensuring this one is better than all the others I’ve given today, and though my body rebels, I turn my hand over to squeeze Saskia’s. “I’ve been reunited with my dragons, which is more than I could’ve hoped for in a lifetime, and I’m betrothed to my father’s enemy. I’m fine, Sas. I promise. Besides, I’ve never had a bad day that couldn’t be improved by a sweet treat.”
She regards me for several more seconds in silence. “You’re sure?”
I slip my other hand under the table and dig my nails into my palm, not letting my eyes flick to the cut on Finnian’s throat, caused by an Imirath soldier who plotted with Ailliard. Ailliard had known Finnian since he was an orphaned child and watched him grow up beside me, and still he handed him over to my enemy. He knew me well enough to know I’ll always trade my life for Finnian’s. Even if he hadn’t plotted to return me to Garrick, I would’ve killed him for harming Finnian.
I could’ve lost him. Guilt slithers through me like serpentswrapping around my lungs and strangling me from within. Finnian wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. He needs a morning void of strife and filled with ease, and though the mask I’ve cast over my emotions grows heavier by the second, I’ll hide my pain to see him happy.
There will be a time to get my revenge, but not today. Beyond taking care of Finnian, I wanted to come out today to show the world that Eagor, Ailliard, and Garrick failed. I will not cower in the dark when I can be wreathed in light created by dragonfire. The people need to see their rulers unruffled and unbothered to quell any anxiety regarding our rise in power. I’ve had a lifetime to learn how to live without revealing my true emotions. The key to hiding pain and anger is never living a day without it.
“I’m positive.” I remove my hand from hers as a blur of movement in the corner of the bay window catches my eye. I pull back the parted pink curtain and find a royal messenger handing off a letter to Braxton. Lemon Drop Bakery has one entrance and aside from us and the staff, nobody is allowed inside.
Finnian moves through the sea of lace-covered tables to retrieve the letter, keeping one hand on the hilt of his sword as he cracks open the door, letting in a gust of winter air that cuts through the narrow street like a blade. He drops the parchment in front of me and I dryly swallow when I note my name scrawled in Cayden’s hand. Despite the urge to toss it into the fire, I eagerly tear open the seal and unfold the letter like the blushing bride-to-be the kingdom must believe I am. Manipulation is just as useful as battles when it comes to war. Battles help you gain territory and lessen your enemies, but manipulation lets you sink your claws into someone’s mind and control an outsider’s perspective, andthatis a powerful thing. Only show people what you want them to think, never how you truly feel.
“It’s an address somewhere in Ladislava.” It says nothing else, and I choose to ignore the disappointment that prods at me. I asked for space. He’s giving it to me. This is what I need. I don’t want to see him.
But even as I repeat the words in my head they sound like a lie.
“May I?” Saskia asks, and I hand the letter over to her. She blinks slowly before clarity washes over her and she licks her lips to hide her growing grin. “Braxton can easily take you there. I unfortunately must get back to the castle.”
“Give me a hint.”
“No.”
“Is it a shop?”
“If it was a shop I’d go with you.”
I roll my eyes and stand while threading my arms through my coat, curiosity propelling me forward. The silhouette reminds me of a snow angel with its full skirts and bell sleeves; thankfully the sash around my waist gives it some definition and the fur lining the interior keeps me warm. Delicate golden dragons are embroidered on the front and circle the hem and cuffs.
I pay for the cakes and offer a bit more to cover the cost of closing their shop for me before leaving. My dragons screech when they spot me in the street, and I wave up at Basilius, who’s closest to me, before handing my letter to the carriage driver since he’ll be taking me where I need to go. I’d ride my dragons, but I don’t want to leave Saskia and Finnian, considering I planned our outing, and the bruises on my ribs have been bothering me today.
We travel through winding streets bordered by quaint shops, cafés, and several icy rivers that cut through the kingdom. Lantern posts that were once fashioned to look like twisting tree limbs now depict dragons spitting fire on either side of the golden pole. Finnian rests his head on my shoulder and closes his eyes as the steady trot of the horses and his full stomach lull him to sleep. I pretend not to notice Saskia analyzing me across the carriage as we cross over an arched bridge that takes us to the circle in front of the castle, and the sound of picks slamming into stone stirs Finnian. I peek out of the window to see what the artists are working on, but it’s too early in their process to tell. It must be something Cayden commissioned.
“I’ll keep Braxton with me, but you should rest,” I tell him.
“Are you sure?” Finnian asks through a yawn.
“Cayden requested her presence tonight, so I imagine he’ll find her soon,” Saskia says.
My heart lurches in my chest, and I tighten my grip on the bench beneath me. “Go,” I urge him with an ease I don’t feel.
He nods while wrapping an arm around my shoulders before stepping out of the carriage and offering Saskia his hand. She pauses to look at me. “I’m here if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Sas.” I keep the smile on my face until the door shuts, letting it melt once I’m alone and the carriage begins moving again. If only it were as easy to fool myself. I keep the curtains drawn so I’m able to admire the forest that stretches between Verendus and Ladislava, watching a herd of deer drink from a half-frozen stream before my dragons’ shadows overtake them and they run for shelter.
We cross into Ladislava, and I sink back from the window until the carriage turns onto a street with a sign that readsHealer’s Row.Several stone cottages with warm light pouring from them capture my attention and make me think of Nyrinn. I wonder if she’s heard the news of Ailliard’s treachery by now. I listen as Braxton’s horse stops behind the carriage, and his boots slosh through the snow as he approaches.
“My Queen,” he says while opening the door and offering me a hand down.
“Thank you, general.” The short iron gate squeaks as he unlatches it and follows me up the path leading to the cottage that matches the address Cayden gave me. “Would you like to come inside?”
“No, thank you, Your Majesty. I’ll stand guard on your porch.” He gestures to the cast-iron chimney nestled into the corner. “I’ll make a fire and be more content here than I’d be at the border watching over soldiers as if they’re children.”
“I’ll leave it unlocked should you change your mind.”
He nods as I twist the handle and let myself in, pressing my back to the door and letting out a sigh of relief at the silence. Quickly unfastening the sash around my waist, I slide the coat off my shoulders and caress the throbbing bruises on my ribs. My eyes squeeze shut,and I press my lips together to keep all sounds of pain trapped within.
