Page 101 of Wrath of the Dragons
Her lip curls and Ryder reaches for his sword, growling his warning. “Watch yourself.”
He’s always been protective of Sas. Not that I can blame him, but Saskia has proven time and time again to be able to hold her own against men. I’ve seen her tear them down with nothing but words and a condescending sneer. “I’d sooner pitch myself off the side of the ship than learn a single thing about you beyond what we need.”
Zarius lifts his hands and pulls the top half of his wavy white hair back with a leather strap. He shifts uneasily under my gaze but tries to hide it with humor. “I’m still waiting to find out what exactly that is.”
“For you to take the Thirwen throne,” I say, not bothering to ease him into the topic. Rhys straightens, his interest clearly piqued though suspicion lines his brown eyes. Now that I’m able to get a better look at their faces under torchlight, I try to find similarities between the two. Though they both have white hair, clearly for different reasons, there isn’t a single feature shared aside from their angular eyes. Rhys is pale where Zarius is lightly tanned. Even their builds are different—Rhys has the muscular build of a soldier whereas Zarius is slim, not scrawny but not bulky either.
“The throne?” Zarius echoes. “I’m not sure if you noticed, demon, but we’re not exactly in Thirwen, and though Rhys is good with a sword, he’s not an army.”
“We’re going to war against your father, unless you didn’t hear that between tales of my wife’s beauty,” I state the obvious.
“I don’t see what this has to do with me. I want no part of the throne. All it has brought me is death and despair.”
“The throne didn’t bring that to you. It’s an inanimate object,” Elowen interjects. “It’s the person who sits atop it who gives it life.”
“The greed woven within the very stones that construct it has brought me enough grief to last a lifetime.”
“Then resist it,” I state.
“Is that what you did when you conquered Vareveth?” he spits. “Iwatched my mother die right in front of me because she stopped being useful tothe crown.You have no idea what that does to a person.”
His self-pity grates on me. Yes, I do know what that does to a person, and though I’ve nursed my demons with alcohol and violence, I didn’t let myself fall apart as he clearly has. Anger held me together like mortar, fortifying me against the world. I dryly chuckle. “I didn’t know it made you into a spineless prick.”
Elowen pushes off the wall and sinks onto a crate across from Zarius, gliding her dragon daggers against each other. “Given you know who we are, I’m sure you know we don’t shy away from doing what we must to get what we want. You don’t need all your fingers to sit on a pretty chair, princeling.”
Rhys reaches for his sword, but Finnian steps forward. “I suggest you reconsider drawing a weapon against my queen. You’re severely outnumbered and won’t be able to protect your prince in death.”
The knight growls as he shoves the blade back into its sheath and I exchange a glance with Ryder. Finnian’s certainly come into his own since becoming Commander of Aestilian. He’s packed on more muscle and there’s a hardness to his voice that wasn’t there a few months ago.
“She threatened my prince.”
“A prince who—as he reminded us—has no army and no support regarding his claim to the throne. As of right now he’s worth no more than any individual walking the street,” I say. “We mean you no harm as of right now—”
“That’s comforting,” Zarius grumbles.
“But we will be taking you to the palace tomorrow, and you’re going to be on your best behavior and prepare yourself to take your father’s throne once we kill him.”
Zarius and Rhys exchange a long look filled with a silent conversation, but it’s the former who speaks first. “You plan to kill my father?”
I quirk a brow. “That is usually how wars end.”
“So you want me on the Thirwen throne because you think it’ll be easier to manipulate me than my father?”
“It’s not manipulation if you know our plan,” Saskia sneers, drawing Zarius’s attention again. She lifts her chin under his scrutinizing gaze.
“You’re not our enemy despite being born from one. I believe we both can understand that,” Elowen begins, and Zarius slowly nods, a muscle fluttering in his jaw when he clenches his teeth. “Answer me this: do you want to waste away in gambling dens in a foreign kingdom for the rest of your life while your father hunts you?”
He shakes his head, seeming like he hates to admit it, but Rhys looks relieved.
“Have you thought about avenging your mother?”
His nostrils flare and his shadowed eyes look to his boots. “Yes.”
“Our terms are simple: open trade between my kingdom, Galakin, and Thirwen. Fight with us on the battlefield so your people can see you still live.” She sheaths her knives and gets to her feet, waving a crewman forward. “You’ll be taken to a cabin. Think on my offer, for I assure you a better one will not come along.”
Saskia stares at the ocean as Zarius and Rhys are escorted below decks, as does Zarius until the moment before the door closes behind him and his red eyes find her one last time.
Five.
