Page 99 of Wrath of the Dragons
“Oh.” She ducks her head.
“It’s not a bad thing,” I add, drawing her eyes back to me. “Just—”
“Different?”
“Yes.”
“There’s something I didn’t tell you about the ritual.” She swallows, and I twirl one of her curls adorned with the same gold beads as Saskia’s to calm her. “I spoke with the soul mage who performed it after I melted Thirwen’s wards because I wanted answers. She told me that our souls are bound. We were destined by the Goddess of Souls to cross paths. Without it, the ritual wouldn’t have been successful.”
“And you believe that?”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore.” She blinks her eyes and locks her jaw while looking toward the ocean. “But I know you would’ve died without that ritual.”
“Sirantia.” I tilt her face back to mine. “I searched for you because you were the daughter of my enemy and bonded to five dragons. The pull to you wasn’t as strong back then, it wasn’t desperate.”
“You’re letting your feelings cloud your thoughts,” she whispers. “Our lives are so much bigger than just us. Have you ever wondered if you have powers? Some kind of magical ability? If I’m able to mindwalk, ride dragons, and wield fireon occasion—what if you’re able to do something as well?”
I shake my head. “Aside from being uncommonly good with my tongue and a blade—” She scoffs at my cockiness. “I’m afraid I’m entirely ordinary.”
“I don’t believe that.” She looks at me for a long moment as she tugs her pendant along its chain. “Something lurks within you, Cayden, and whenever it manifests, make sure it’s felt across the world.”
I don’t want to disappoint her, so I keep my mouth shut. Magic manifests in people when they’re twelve. Elowen is an exception—whether her abilities were stifled as a trauma response or from being separated from her dragons, she was able to awaken them. I’m not bound to any creature and was entered into several fights by my father where I was beaten enough to entice some kind of magical ability to reveal itself…but all I had were my fists—and broken bottles if glass was thrown into the ring. When he whipped my back, and the urge to kill him was stronger than any force in this world, something would’ve happened.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts when the side door slams open and a man stumbles out, kept upright by whoever escorts him.
“That is no way to handle your prince,” the slim one slurs.
Elowen and I exchange a glance.
“People in there are sniffing around for you like bloodhounds,” the guard growls, the hilt of the broadsword strapped across his back glinting as he keeps the man upright by his shirt. “Do you think your father has stopped looking for you? Unless you want to be slaughtered, I suggest you keep walking.”
“You knights are always so dramatic. If you’d just revoke your vow of celibacy, I’m sure you’d be much more agreeable.”
“A knight?” Elowen whispers. “A knight of Thirwen is with the prince? I thought the king made all of them take blood oaths.”
“That was a recent development,” I mutter, and wonder what sparked the change. It was around the time that Ser Rhys Froydin went missing. He was a legend in the Crimson Tide War, known as the vulture for his ruthlessness when he fought in Thirwen’s navy, and later knighted for his bravery. It’s how he lost his left eye; he covers the evidence with a patch. It’s rumored he had an affair with the former queen of Thirwen and that he’s Zarius’s true father. King Fallon tried to have him killed, but here he stands: gray hair, lines etched into his face, but still a warrior.
“Get the others,” I mutter. “I’ll follow them.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.” She hops off the stool and parts from me when we cross the road. The street sharply slopes after I make it past the gambling den, and I keep to the shadows the buildings offer. I thought Zarius’s hair was blond when I first caught sight of him…but it suddenly looks white. The strands blend in with the buildings, but his red shirt is easy to spot through the throngs of people. They stop in the road, and Ser Rhys looks over his shoulder. I dip into an alley and press my back into a wall while watching them around the corner, waiting for them to keep moving.
The crowds thin as I continue tracking them. I tuck my hands into my pockets, not bothering to keep my steps silent when it’s just the three of us left. The prince is so drunk he doesn’t seem fazed when Rhys draws his blade and turns to face me.
“Don’t use your blade prematurely,” I state. “It’ll give me an incentive to kill you.”
“I’d like to see you try.” He keeps a firm hold on the prince’s collar as he squints through the darkness, trying to make out my features as I lift my head. And there it is. The recognition when his eyes track the scar on the right side of my face.
I take another step closer. “Still believe I won’t end you?”
“Demon.”
“Vulture.” His grip tightens on both the man and the hilt. “Though I can’t say I know the name of your companion.”
“Prince Zarius.” He hiccups. “A pleasure to meet you, demon.”
It’s clear he has no idea who I am, and it almost makes me want to laugh. Rhys growls, pulling Zarius up again, and I have to respect his patience. No amount of loyalty could make me babysit a drunken man as if he were a child. “What do you want?”
Saskia and Ryder move to stand on either side of me as Elowen and Finnian jump down from the buildings bordering the street, surrounding Rhys and Zarius. Finnian nocks an arrow in his bow for good measure while Elowen circles to face them.
