Page 73 of Wrath of the Dragons
I slide my arm through Cayden’s again and take a sip of wine a servant offers me. “Urasos is approaching.”
“After today we’re taking a break from hosting and attending gatherings.”
“We were just invited to a ball,” I flatly state.
“We’ll secure the alliance before it occurs and then I’ll happily keep you occupied in a dark corner after making a brief appearance.”
I pinch his bicep and subtly press the cool chalice into my neck to quell the flush creeping up.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure—Prince Hale Warthorne and my wife, Princess Lethia,” Hale says, but Lethia remains silent beside him. Her unwavering attention is fixed on me as if she’s seeing a ghost. Her emerald-green gown embellished with brown embroidery matches Hale’s tunic adorned with a chain across his chest to depict his sigil: stag antlers framing a mountain.
“Queen Elowen Veles.” I extend a hand to Lethia, and this seems toshake her from the trance. Her pale hand is slick and shaking slightly when she wraps her fingers around mine.
She clears her throat, pushing a strand of straight blond hair out of her face. “My apologies. I’m not normally so…”
She clears her throat again.
“Would you like to get some air?” I ask, jutting my chin toward the double doors that lead to a pavilion. Not only am I asking for her benefit, but I’d like to take a break from the festivities as well—and it’ll give us all the opportunity to speak privately.
“That would be lovely.” Her shoulders lower slightly, and the four of us make our way outside. Though it’s freezing, the breeze swooping down from the snowy mountaintops caresses my heated skin. My dragons sense me now that I’ve ventured outside and alter their course to fly above the forest stretching for miles. Hale stops in his tracks when he spots them, and drags a hand through his wavy, raven hair that stops just below his chin. It’s shaved on the left side, and a tattoo of a stag is inked onto his scalp.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” Lethia asks. Cayden takes a step closer to me when he notes my unease. I tilt my head, doing my best to analyze her features. She has a band of freckles across the bridge of her nose, which has a small bump in it, and she’s quite tall for a woman.
“When would we have met?”
She smiles softly. “I don’t take offense. You were so young.”
I take another sip of wine to wet my dry throat. “Imirath. Before my imprisonment.”
“I’d travel with my family to visit Zinambra in the summer,” she says. “My father is good friends with King Fallon, who is obviously close with your father, given their alliance.”
Bitterness sours my stomach, and I look to my dragons. Cayden drags his fingers down my spine to soothe me, taking over the conversation. “If you’ve come to my kingdom to speak fondly of my enemies then you should’ve remained in yours.”
“I hold no loyalty to either Imirath or Thirwen, despite my wife’s heritage,” Prince Hale states. “Nor does she.”
Their union hints to that being untrue. If Lethia’s father is close to Thirwen’s king, he’ll expect his son-in-law to support them in the war. I stride toward a table and chairs positioned beside thick greenery and bordered by torches, like the ones lining the streets of the kingdom, fashioned to look like dragons spitting fire. The others follow and we take our seats across from each other.
“Then why are you here? It’s clear you have something to say,” Cayden continues.
Hale drags his thumb down his stubble-covered jaw. The golden rings on his fingers complement his dark complexion. “I’m not the king of Urasos yet, so I have to act within limits, but I’m here to offer information.”
“Why should we trust it?”
“Because I want revenge on those who harmed my wife. I’m sure you can understand how it feels.” Hale narrows his blue eyes.
Cayden’s hand pauses on the nape of my neck. “If it were my wife, I’d press a pillow over my dying father’s face to join the war and avenge her myself.”
“He’s my father,” Hale hisses.
“It was merely a suggestion. We all have our priorities.” He resumes his movements, gliding his fingers along my skin. “Tell me what you know.”
“Urasos has remained neutral for centuries, and with my Thirwen heritage, we cannot join your war, but we will not act against you. If Hale’s father were dead, it would simplify matters, but we must work within our limits,” Lethia says, her gaze flashing to mine again. “I mourned you. I was told you died of a fever, but as I grew older, I realized that couldn’t be true. The dragons were never heard of again and there was no funeral. You all vanished as if you never existed.”
“I’m sorry for any sadness that might’ve caused you.” I’m having a hard time finding words beyond those. What do you say to someone who remembers a version of you that you don’t? That no longer exists?The girl she remembers died in those dungeons, and I am all that remains.
The pair of them keep speaking and yet say nothing, and my patience is wearing thin. I glance to my left, noting the added presence of Finnian and Ryder along with two soldiers from Urasos. They’re close by, but far enough for our conversation to remain private.
“What do you want in exchange for the information?” I raise my brows. “My guarantee that the dragons won’t lay waste to your kingdom?”
