Page 41 of Wrath of the Dragons
The door slams open behind me, and the steel of my sword sings against its sheath as I draw it. A sharp yelp fills the air as Ryder homes in on the tip stopping an inch in front of his face. I roll my eyes, sheathing the blade once more. “Knock next time.”
“Is that how you answer the door to your house? No wonder you don’t get any visitors.”
“Is there something you need?”
“Why are you angrier than usual?” he asks, draping his limbs over my desk chair and indulging in the whiskey. “Could it have something to do with a raven-haired woman who flew away?”
“Her hair isn’t raven.” When she steps into the sun it’s clear that it’s the darkest shade of brown.
“Right, well, can’t say I’ve paid close attention to Elowen’s features.” He sighs. “I’m not going away until you tell me what happened.”
“You never go away.” I clench my jaw and tuck my tongue into the side of my cheek. “Garrick is getting remarried and means to replace Elowen as his heir.”
Ryder’s face sobers at that, sitting up straight and placing his feet on the ground. I think having a younger sister makes him naturally protective of Elowen, especially considering she and Saskia have grown close. “Her only option is to take Imirath. She’ll never be safe if she doesn’t, nor would any of your heirs, considering they’d also have a claim to the throne.”
Gods, I don’t want to think about heirs. My concerns begin and end with Elowen. There’s no need to complicate matters. Not to mention I have the nurturing capacity of a rock. I can’t risk a child—ourchild at that—being a casualty of my inability to love properly. “She knows that.”
“The Vareveth army is unwaveringly loyal to you, and to Elowen by extension. You rose in ranks beside them, bled on the same fields as them. Give the command and the throne will be taken.”
“Battles will be fought, and many will die no matter what Elowen decides. It’s not a matter of succession.”
“You could take the throne, birthright or not.” Ryder rises from the chair to stand beside me, and his eyes that usually dance with mirth are unwaveringly serious. “We chose you as our leader long before you took Eagor’s throne. Not because you were born into it, but because you were a person worth following. You never needed to tell anyone where you come from for us to know you were different. You are the first commander to bring war to Imirath and the first king in our history to take your crown through an act of rebellion. The soldiers—all the hard battle-worn bastards—worship you like you’re some kind of god when you lead a charge that every other king would watch from behind their armies if they were even present.”
I face the city again, overlooking the sloped roofs as smoke rises from chimneys, mingling with the snow and disappearing. As a boy I remember watching the same sight, the fires that would never warm me while I didn’t know if I’d survive another night, wanting to become no more than a shadow. In the dark, my need for vengeance grew and festered like an untreated wound. In the absence of mercy, I became someone who would never need it.
I crack my knuckles and move to open the trunk in the corner to retrieve a mask, bandanna, and tonic. Ryder’s statement hangs in the air, but I won’t be another man to use Elowen to his advantage, and I will not plot the events of this war without her. I know Ryder means no harm in encouraging me to take the throne, but things are different now. I have someone to lose if I act only out of selfishness, and I don’t want Elowen to be a casualty of my deceit. I lift the small vial to my lips and toss it back, letting the evidence of my past slashed into my flesh disappear. Violence is all I’ve ever known, and before Elowen itwas all I had. The presence of pain became normal, and I don’t know how to live without it.
When thoughts of Garrick surge, it drags up old memories I don’t want to think about. I take one last look out the window in the direction of Imirath. By the end of this war, I’ll hoist my enemy’s daughter above the ruins of his reign and make him feel just as powerless as he once made me feel.
Chapter
Twenty-one
Elowen
Ocean spray dots my cheeksas another towering wave crashes into the black cliffs beneath Delmira’s talons. Moonlight dances on the ocean’s unruly surface, and my dragons fly among the waves, dragging their claws through the frothy crests before twirling beneath the stars.
We’ve flown so far that I don’t even know if I’m still in Vareveth or if I’ve ventured into Imirath, and yet I feel no different. There once was a time that the mere thought of Imirath would send me into a downward spiral. I still don’t think of it with happiness or ease, but traveling to Zinambra softened something within me. I close my eyes, picturing myself sitting in a café beside one of the canals as the summer sun shines. My dragons love being close to water, and I think they’d love being in a city with so much of it. Cayden spent some of his childhood there, and I wonder if he misses it at all.
I suppose I never had the chance to love it, or to take pride in the kingdom where I was born. The people are not my enemies, only those who had a hand in the torture my dragons and I underwent. Garrick has attempted to kill me on numerous occasions. I don’t even remember them all. There is nothing more important to him than his crown, so much so that he abused his only daughter because of a prophecy. His new wife may give him a son, but no matter how manychildren she gives him, I will not let him erase me. I will not let him take more from me than he already has.
Imirath is my birthright. He can make plans for the future of it, but so can I, because the throne is mine.
Beyond the sandy shore, trees stretch for miles and miles, and the same snowy mountain range I see through the windows in my bedchamber pierces the sky. This could all be mine. I don’t want to be the damnation of Imirath, but I never thought I could be its salvation. If I were to fly my dragons above their kingdom and burn it to the ground, I’d be no better than my father. Orphans would regard me as Cayden regards Garrick, a tyrant who killed their parent and made them brave the cruel world before they were ready.
I’m now the queen of Vareveth, betrothed to its king, and I want Garrick to understand the consequences of my rise to power. It means the downfall of his.
Delmira’s wings flap impatiently, most likely sensing my change in emotion through the bond, and I click my tongue. Wind howls in my ears and slices at my cheeks as she dives off the cliff, veering to the left to fly just above the surface. My eyes slip shut as I command her to take me home, letting the sky embrace me like an old friend despite the biting temperature.
Fear and tragedy shape us just as much as love and happiness do, whether we wish them to or not. They force us to become wary and jaded toward a world we once viewed with innocent eyes. The world is beautiful. It’s the people who inhabit it who make it unbearable at times. Finding the light in the dark is something I’ve done for years, looking for the silver lining no matter how minuscule.
Delmira lands, but before I open my eyes, the smell alone gives away that we’re not at the castle. I don’t recognize this part of Verendus. It’s darker, cramped, and reeks of booze, garbage, and things I’d rather not identify. The sound of glass bottles breaking echoes throughout the curved streets, as do drunken slurring and unintelligible shouts.
“Delmira, my darling girl, have you lost your navigational skills? Perhaps your sanity?” Her blue scales that are as light as a summer day have shifted to black. It’s probably the only reason people didn’t scream as she dipped from the sky, but it’s only a matter of time before someone spots her in the shadowed alley. “Home. Take me home.”
She huffs impatiently and arches her back, causing my saddle straps to strain as I’m briefly thrust into the air. “Delmira! I will not give you any fresh meat—only carrots.”
She bucks again, much more forcefully, and lowers her wing to the ground so I’m able to climb off. I roll my eyes and unhook myself, sliding down until my boots smack against the cobblestones.
