Page 15 of Wrath of the Dragons
“Ah, you want to play.”
He screeches in response.
I remove my thick waist belt and winter coat, strapping it onto Venatrix’s saddle to keep it from becoming a casualty of Sorin’s chaos craving. I suppose I should’ve bundled up beneath my coat, but I left the castle in a hurry when I sensed Delmira having a nightmare. Sheer lavender sleeves dotted with dark blue jewels drape down my arms and billow in the wind, but at least my dragon scale pants are lined with fleece, and my ribs are nearly healed so the corset doesn’t sit uncomfortably on me anymore. I place my hands beneath me and slowly get to my feet as Venatrix flaps evenly. Sorin keeps his eyes on me as I spread my arms wide and quiet my mind again. Anticipation whirls through me like a storm, and I wink at him before jumping off Venatrix.
A series of different emotions are fired down the bond. Fear from Calithea and Basilius, anger from Venatrix and Delmira for my recklessness, but Sorin is pure joy. A scream rips free from my throat as I free-fall toward the sea as Sorin sharply dives. I laugh and tumble, knowing he’ll never let me fall. The wind howls in my ears like a banshee, and blood pounds through my body. Every day with my dragons is a privilege, and I don’t intend on wasting a single second. I manage to right myself and tilt my chin as he closes the distance between us and nudges his nose into the bottom of my boot, making me laugh again.
He flaps his wings and drops his mighty body beside mine until our eyes are level and we plummet together. He hums a sound of contentment low in his throat as the other dragons chase us but are too far back to catch up. I reach forward and press my hand against his snout, and he leans into my touch. The ocean grows louder, but Idon’t move, and Sorin lives for it. This is more than just a moment of recklessness; it’s a show of trust.
Venatrix roars, causing Sorin to huff, and he turns to bring me level with the saddle. I wrap my hands around the horns, and he slowly rights us until my chest presses into his back, and the surf is so close he’s forced to veer right to avoid a wave crashing over us.
Sorin slows his pace once we’re over the forest, letting the other dragons catch up as he gloats. I have a feeling Delmira and Venatrix would ram into him if I weren’t on his back given the way their eyes are narrowed. I catch my breath, and I don’t realize how much my cheeks hurt from smiling until I relax, letting Sorin carry me back to Verendus after snagging my coat off Venatrix.
A riding party carrying my house sigil is heading away from the castle, and I shoot up in the saddle, immediately alert. There are too many soldiers for this to be a routine patrol. It’s still early in the day and I wasn’t informed of anyone traveling north. Finnian is easy to spot, his ginger hair standing out against the frosty forest, and it’s not hard to identify Cayden and Ryder after that. Sorin follows their path, casting them in a wing’s shadow.
The same mist that coated the rocks hangs heavy over the forest, making the torchlight in the distance easy to spot amid the gray. The battalion comes to a stop beside a crystal-blue lake, and Sorin begins slowly swirling around it as he descends. Venatrix follows, but the other three remain in the air. Never out of sight, though.
The ice along the edge cracks as Sorin lands and dips his shoulder so I’m able to hop off…but Finnian’s pinched brows when he looks back at me make me pause. Venatrix must sense the tension mounting inside me because she slides her head over my shoulder and growls at the four Aestilian soldiers kneeling in the mud.
Chapter
Eight
Elowen
Snow crunches underfoot when Idismount, but I don’t move from between Sorin and Venatrix as I stare down four familiar faces across the bank. Their wings flare out behind my back and their front claws sink into the ground as they growl low in their throats. Jarek flinches and quickly moves his bound hands to where I’m sure his blade was before Vareveth soldiers confiscated it.
I click my tongue as Venatrix’s growl sharpens. “Don’t move too quickly. You’ll startle the dragons, and they’re quite protective of me. If they wish to kill you, I won’t be able to stop them.”
Cayden strides toward me, cutting out my old guards and Jarek from view. He doesn’t have to tell me something is wrong; I know it is. Border patrols were ordered to grant any Aestilian citizen access into the kingdom and provide them with a safe escort to the castle. I run my thumb over the ring he gifted me despite it being covered by my glove. I’ve surmised it’s important to him given how many times his gaze catches it, but I force myself not to ask of the origins again since I know he’ll deny me. I don’t want to grant him the satisfaction of knowing how much I think of it.
“Why are they here?” Nessa, Esme, and Zander were three of the four guards that escaped Imirath with Ailliard and me. The only one missing is Lycus. They moved as a pack, and I’ll find him within the hour if he’s lurking somewhere in my kingdom. They all bear theevidence of a struggle, with split lips and bloody cuts seeping into their clothes.
“The soldiers on patrol found pardons for all but Jarek on their persons. In each, Ailliard claims he blackmailed them into leaving Imirath and implores Garrick to show mercy and grant them positions in the infantry to prove their loyalty,” he answers without emotion, which is what I need right now. This pales in comparison to Ailliard’s betrayal, and if Cayden were to look at me with pity my anger would only worsen.
A discarded princess,Ailliard’s voice slams into my mind before I have the chance to shut it out. But I need to be more than a title. I need to be more than the other rulers of Ravaryn. The weight of the crown crushes most, but where they falter, I will fly.
“We can take them back to the castle for questioning if you prefer,” he offers while handing me the stack of pardons. “I was notified of their movements shortly after you left for flight training and alerted the dungeon guards to keep them separate, but it’s your decision how we proceed.”
I roll my lips together, contemplating his proposal. “We’d have to escort them through the streets of Verendus, alerting everyone to the treachery within my kingdom. I refuse to let spineless traitors make me look weak. Why didn’t they travel by sea to avoid our kingdom?”
“The emerald storms are traveling up the Dolent Sea. They probably thought their odds were better if they could face an opponent that they could kill rather than a sea storm.” An emerald storm warning is not something to regard lightly and not easy to predict. The storms earned their name because it’s said once the sea turns green, your death is near. You could be fishing on the calmest waters one moment and be pummeled by waves the size of mountains in the next.
I would’ve taken the same risk with traveling on foot, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be dumb enough to get caught. Even if they made it to Imirath, they would have been thrown in the dungeon and tortured if they weren’t killed on the spot. Stealing a princess from a castle isn’t a crime that’s forgiven or forgotten over time. Garrick would have madean example of them the moment he had them in his grasp. Part of me wants to let them cross the border to prove that, but I don’t have the patience.
I rip the pardons in half and drop them into the mud. “And Jarek? What’s his purpose?”
“He refused to speak to the soldiers, but it’s nothing I can’t handle if you require my skills.”
I smirk up at him. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“I hope you do.”
He rests a hand on the hilt of his blade as he turns away and escorts me closer to the prisoners. Sorin and Venatrix shake the ground as they follow, and the other three circle the skies above like they’re searching for prey. The captives at least have the good sense to tremble, so it appears they’re not entirely dense.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” I gesture to the dragons at my back.
“Y-yes, my queen,” Jarek stammers.
