Page 7 of Wrath of the Dragons
His laughter increases. “Deranged bastard.”
Chapter
Four
Cayden
I pull on the reins asI turn onto Healer’s Row and note three male figures lurking across the road from Elowen’s cottage. Soldiers often congregate here, as well as citizens seeking medical attention, either for themselves or someone in need of their escorting, but judging by the way they sway in place, I’d reckon they’re drunk.
Koa’s hooves clack on the cobblestones as I slow his pace and pull down my hood and mask, riding between them and her. Their laughter soon fades, as does the color in their cheeks when they realize who I am. Braxton stands at the top of the stairs leading to the porch with a hand on the hilt of his blade, his shoulders relaxed as if he welcomes the threat should they approach.
I stare without emotion and jut my chin toward the mouth of the road.
“Go,” one of them commands, setting them off, disappearing in a sloppy sprint.
My protectiveness of Elowen doesn’t stem only from selfish reasons, it’s also because I’ve seen how cruel this world is, especially to women. The sharpest memory I have of my mother is her screams the night she died. Not her laughter. Not her smile. Pain shapes us like a blacksmith honing a blade that we point at anyone who threatens to take what little joy we find in this corrupt world.
“How long were those men here?”
“They arrived only a few minutes before you,” Braxton answers. “I’d have confronted them myself if you hadn’t come.”
“Seize them if they return,” I order as I dismount and tie the reins on a post. “I don’t care if they’re bleeding out and Elowen is the last healer in Ravaryn. They will never cross this threshold. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Like Alexus, Braxton has known me for years, and I’m thankful they didn’t conform to the rules of society and call meYour Highness.I’ve never cared much for propriety.
Aside from Ryder, Braxton is the only general I trust to guard Elowen. I’ve seen him take on several enemies at once and come out without a scratch. He swore to die for her before he even knew her, and Braxton is not a man that takes an oath lightly. He lost his wife and child on the birthing bed over twenty years ago yet still wears his wedding band.
“I have her from here. Have a good night, Braxton.”
He dips his head before gliding down the path that leads to the road. I tighten my grip on the bouquet and shove the door open. My impatience is too strong to delay this a moment longer. Bundles of dried flowers tied with ribbons now hang from the rafters. She must’ve found them in the basket I left in the storage closet. I recalled her saying something about how Nyrinn’s shop had bundles, so I figured she might want some here. Several books are open and facing downward on the table and couch to hold her place, and something loosens in my chest when my eyes land on her.
I wish I could hate her for having this control over me: to consume my thoughts and reinvent the man I am despite my not wanting to let the old version go. She’s my only exception, the one crack within a heart made of stone. Braxton must’ve been in and out because she doesn’t turn to face me. Spiraling curls spill down her back as she balances on a stool, desperately trying to reach a jar at the back of the top shelf. I see the very moment she knows it’s me. Her shoulders stiffen as I close the distance between us and reach above her with ease. The dark strands of her hair that smell like a spring breeze smack me in the face as she spins, rattling several vials as her backslams into the wood.
I shove my irritation with how careless she is with herself aside as she stares up at me with wide eyes that make me want to drown in a pool of honey. I look for her in everything, everywhere. I see her eyes in the mundane details of my day that make me crave the moment I’ll be with her again.
She takes the jar out of my hand, successfully ignoring the massive bouquet in the other. “Where did Braxton go?”
“Gone,” I say as she hops down from the stool and strides to her desk while holding the glass up to the light to examine its contents. “No sense in keeping him here when I’m perfectly capable of guarding my wife.”
The quill pressed between her fingers snaps in half, splattering her inventory log with ink. “I’mnotyour wife.”
“I’m happy to remedy that mistake within the hour.”
“Unless you have a ring worth my time on your person, you’ll be waiting for quite some time.” She scrunches her nose and narrows her eyes on the bouquet. “Though I’ve always believed it’s best to get things over with, like yanking an arrow out of a limb.”
I rip off one of the starsnaps and tuck it behind her ear as she continues to glare at me. “Have dinner with me.”
She yanks the flowers out of my grip and tosses them to the floor without even looking. “No.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“How shocking,” she mutters before gliding toward the mantel on the far side of the room to pluck off a random book and flip through the pages carelessly. I follow her like a damn dog on a leash and pull it from her grip, setting it aside as she spins on her heels, ready to busy herself with some other diversion. Normally, I’d love this, but not when I note the way she’s limping. I bend down to wrap my arms around her waist and hoist her in the air, not caring if we’re putting on a show for anyone outside and careful to avoid her injuries as she squeals.
“You are such a—” She cuts herself off with a growl when I gently set her down on the couch and take a seat on the coffee table, keepingmy hands on her hips.
“Finish the sentence, love. I’m eager to know what you think of me.”
She crosses her arms and sharpens her glare, and gods, if it doesn’t make me want to kiss the spot on her neck that’ll make her melt in my hands until she’s begging me to keep them on her. “At the moment I’m thinking about how stupid you were to go on a midnight ride through the kingdom when we’re supposed to be happily betrothed. There was gossip about a potential rift all throughout the castle—even Finnian knew about it before I saw him.”
