Page 29 of Wrath of the Dragons
“I-I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor.”
He draws me in like a weary traveler desperate for comfort, but I’m still stuck in the snow. Ailliard’s voice echoes on a loop in my mind, making me want to press my palms to my ears and scream. I’ve faced terrifying things in life and yet the idea that someone could love me for all the years I have left in my life, and the fear that accompanies it, is the one thing I don’t know how to conquer.
I drop my eyes and pull my wrist from his hold.
“El—”
“Can I have a moment? I’d like to be alone.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. He’s standing right in front of me, butI miss him.I miss tracing his scars with my fingers and lips. I miss the feeling of being at ease in his arms. Nothing happened in the way I wanted and yet I still want him.
Cayden has a power over me like nobody else, and I hate feeling like I’m building a barrier against my own happiness, but I mindlessly keep piling stones on top of each other, telling myself that what hurts me right now won’t be able to hurt me again.
Nobody can love a vile creature.
He stares down at me for several prolonged beats as the silence between us suffocates me. It wraps around my throat like a ribbon, cowardice and pain twining together to form a bow. He reaches for his sword and exits the room, his boots thumping against the creaking wood. The front door to the house shuts, and I press my forehead into the wall while rubbing at the ache in my chest.
I can’t just stand here, I’ll go mad. Ailliard’s heart thumps through the walls, beckoning me to seek out the source of what’s been plaguing my mind since Jarek told me where the pardons were hidden. I dig my nails into my palms and step into the hall. Part of me didn’t want to come back to the house, knowing this would be unavoidable.
The moon bathes the room with just enough light for me to see,and it smells of the dust that floats within the silvery rays. I tug my pendant along the chain as I step farther inside, scanning the surroundings of a room so familiar yet foreign. I didn’t truly know the man that stayed here, despite sharing a roof.
My knees hit the floor hard when I sink to them in a daze, lifting the wooden trunk at the base of the bed. Several folded tunics are perfectly stacked in two piles, and it’s like I’m watching myself outside of my body as I pick one up and hold it to my chest. I sink my teeth into my lip until I taste blood, throwing the tunic back into the trunk and slamming the lid shut.
The cut on my thigh is healed, but the fresh scar throbs when I recall Ailliard shoving his nails into the wound. He harbored such malice, such hatred, and here I am hugging his fucking tunic.
My blood chills when I get to my feet and round the dresser that juts awkwardly into the room. I press my hands into the floorboards until one pops up. I take a deep breath before lifting it and gracelessly let it slip from my limp fingers.
My stomach rolls and I force myself to look away from the contents within, squeezing my eyes shut as if it’ll erase the image burned into my mind.Why?Why did he betray me? What day did he decide he regretted fleeing with me? What day did he look at me and realize he’d never care more for me than he cared for a king who wanted him dead?
Tears patter against the wood around me like the beginning of a storm, and I don’t bother wiping them from my face as I trail my fingers over the ribbons I used to wear in my hair as a child. I’d never go anywhere without something colorful woven into my braids. Ailliard knew this, and each time he went on a raid he’d bring a new color back for me.
A sob rattles my frame when I flip through the old pages of a gardening manual he used to teach me how to read. Every inch of my body is shaking so badly I can’t even read the words, so I set it aside and pull out the first gown he gifted me, made of lavender and whitefabric. I practically lived in it before I outgrew it. I throw everything on the floor, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes as if that’ll stop the tears, but more keep pouring from me in violent waves.
My breathing quickens and my vision gets spotty. I try to calm myself down, to not succumb to my emotions, but they overpower me and drag me down into the shadowy depths. I feel like there’s no escaping when they have me in their thrall. I claw at my throat, trying to remove an invisible noose but it’s pointless. Frustrated with myself, I pile all my belongings onto the dress and fold them up.
I can’t be in here anymore.
My boots pound as I make my way to the back of the house and shove the door open, tossing my childhood into the yard before spinning on my heels. I grab whatever reminds me of Ailliard: clothing, blankets, boots, the mug he always used, the daggers I bought him after saving for months, his seat at the dining table.
I don’t stop until my chest is heaving from exertion instead of anxiety. “Sorin!” My voice is nothing more than a rasp, but the familiar sight of his emerald-green scales brings me comfort. “Burn it all!”
Flames engulf the pile, but it’s not the fire that destroys the tokens of the past; it’s the present.
Chapter
Fourteen
Cayden
I guide the whetstone along mysword as the snow swirls around me, not bothering to look up when several people in the road stop to stare before quickening their steps to get back to whatever last-minute tasks they need to complete before departure. I’m counting down the seconds until we’re able to leave. My patience is holding on by a frayed piece of string, and my temper winds through me like a storm.
I couldn’t manage to go farther than the front porch. Despite wanting a distraction, protecting Elowen is my duty. I swore an oath to her when we struck our deal, and I won’t falter. Violence has shaped my life and even in the quiet moments, I’m prepared for it to appear. The people of Vareveth coined the termdemon of Ravaryn,but sometimes I think that one really did possess me as a boy and slowly eats away at my soul. My name is whispered in fear, shrouded in shadow, and drenched in blood.
Someone rounds the side of the house, boots crunching in the snow as the Vareveth soldier on patrol quickens their pace. I drop the whetstone beside me to give them my full attention. “Sir, it’s the queen. She’s—”
I grip the hilt of my blade and rush to the back of the house, immediately spotting the evidence of her pain. Ashes drift along the winter-kissed ground and sparks rise high above the flames. “Nosoldier is to come back here until I get the queen inside,” I shout over my shoulder.
Footsteps lead toward a lake coated in ice and bordered by jagged mountains. The only flaw in the otherwise perfect surface is the gap beneath the gushing waterfall spilling over black rocks.
Elowen paces along the shore, wrapping her arms around herself like she’s desperate for comfort. I wonder how many times she’s broken down in silence and hugged herself, wishing she could have someone there to hold her. Fucking hells, she’s not even wearing a coat, and her trembling is evident the closer I get. The golden dragons embroidered on the bell sleeves of her long blue tunic glimmer as she moves. It remains open in the front to reveal knife-clad legs with more delicate embroidery in a line down her thighs. Sorin isn’t far from her, rustling his wings and stomping his feet as he watches his rider.
