Page 39 of Wrath of the Dragons
When I was in exile, I was told I’d never have an army large enough to take on Imirath, but I do now. I was told I’d never see my dragons again, but I freed them from the castle where my father cowers. I wasprophesied to either be the salvation or doom of Imirath, but maybe those two paths are actually one. Perhaps the only way to be the salvation of Imirath is to doom the Atarah line. I’m tired of being viewed as a discarded princess, unwanted by her own father despite being his only living heir. Putting limits on myself never seems to work in anyone’s favor, and perhaps I should prove that to Garrick one last time by taking what is owed to me.
“What if—” I get to my feet and begin pacing, my boots silenced by the rug. My fingers press into my forehead, and then slowly slide over to ease the pounding in my temple. “What ifI dowant more?”
“Whatever you want, we’ll see it done.”
I dip my hands beneath my curls to rest on the back of my neck. “What about Feynadra and Urasos? They both rest on our northern border and I doubt they’d like the idea of Imirath and Vareveth becoming one kingdom. There would be no barrier between them and the largest army in Ravaryn.”
“To deny your claim to Imirath would be contradicting their own, and they’d like Garrick overtaking Vareveth far less. You do not have the reputation of a tyrant, but Garrick does. He continues to oppress the southern isles, which were once an independent kingdom before your great-grandsire conquered them. Both Feynadra and Urasos are notoriously neutral. The landscape of Urasos makes it nearly impossible to invade and Feynadra has a good relationship with Galakin—who you know hates Imirath—because their queens are sisters. Though Nasha is the queen of Feynadra and hates Thirwen because of the sister she lost, she doesn’t have as much power as Cordelia because she married into her crown; Cordelia was born for hers.”
“Be that as it may,” I begin, “no ruler in Ravaryn will support how we gained Vareveth’s crowns. Even a spark can light their world on fire.”
“It’s best to ignore the mumblings of a mindless mob built on tradition,” Cayden states, resting his hands on the hilt of his blade as he watches me. “You and I were not raised as these people were. The world is controlled by people who believe they’re important andbroken by those who know they’re not. My worth was not given, I made it with my blade, and if they stand against us, they’ll soon realize their mistake.”
I thread my hands through my curls again. “The people of Imirath have been conditioned to hate me for years. I doubt they’ll be secretly stitching banners with our sigil, waiting for me to return.”
His gaze takes on that calculating gleam. “There is another matter I need to discuss with you.”
“Well, it’s not as if this one is resolved.”
“No.” He drapes my cloak over my shoulders. “But this could influence it.”
Chapter
Nineteen
Cayden
Formally introducing Elowen to thegenerals was not the only reason I wanted Elowen to come here. Last night, a group of four Imirath soldiers tried to sneak over the border. It was reported that they never struggled. I’ve spent the greater part of the last several years in a war camp, and most prisoners I’ve come across will hurtle any insult with the hope of obtaining a quick death. In some cases, they remain silent, but never have I known a guilty party to lay down their swords the moment they’re found.
I place my hand on Elowen’s back as a series of freestanding cells that serves as a prison looms into view. My expression is dark, my glare sharp, ensuring none of the prisoners we pass jeer at Elowen as I escort her. My boots sink in the mud when we stop at our intended destination. The soldier guarding the entrance bows and tucks his smoke between his lips before unlocking the door. The scents of human waste and body odor sting my nose, but it’s nowhere near as pungent as the enclosed dungeon beneath the castle.
The captives quickly scramble to their knees when we step inside, though their wrists are chained to individual posts, making their movements awkward and sloppy. Questioning prisoners isn’t exactly what I want to be doing right now, but Elowen needs to hear this. The Imirath throne is hers, and I won’t let someone who will continue to send assassins after her take it.
“I’m assuming you knew the consequences of trespassing in our land when you took this mission?”
“Mercy, sire.”
I don’t respond to his plea, utilizing my silence to heighten his fear. A shadow overtakes the cage as Venatrix lands behind it, an eerie clicking noise vibrating her throat as she lowers her face to the bars stretching across the top. The prisoners whimper, and my lip curls when the sharp tang of urine is added to the already abysmal aroma.
“We won’t waste time dragging information out of infantry soldiers,” Elowen says, her eyes dancing over their simple armor as Venatrix growls. Her crimson gaze is locked on the bars that separate her from Elowen, and I won’t be surprised if she destroys it with her fangs. “Speak in this moment or die in the next.”
“There has been unrest in the Imirath camp ever since the dragons were freed. Many of us believe their release to be a sign of favor from the gods. To fight against you would be to wage war on them.”
I never thought I’d rely on religious fanatics to establish a point to Elowen, but I’ll take it. “Stateyour mission. I will not ask again.”
“To—” The soldier hesitates, and I rest my hand on the hilt of my sword. “To kill the queen.”
Elowen closes her eyes briefly, accepting the reality of our position. Her father will never stop. Whoever he appoints as a successor will never stop.
I’ve always been protective of her, and yet the anger that surges through me whenever someone levels an insult or a threat at her will always catch me off guard. It’s a living thing inside me. An unquenchable need to eliminate the danger before it finds her.
I step in front of Elowen, cutting off her view of the captives, and bend down to whisper in her ear. “Walk down to the road. I’ll be there in a few moments.”
Her brows crease. “What are you planning?”
“Trust me?”
She purses her lips and hums while narrowing her eyes but spins on her heels and exits the cell. I gesture for the soldier guarding theentrance to unlock the prisoners from their posts while keeping my gaze on Elowen. Her presence is already growing a crowd. The cold chains bite into my flesh when I tighten my grip and escort the prisoners into the road, forcing them to kneel in the freezing mud.
