Page 61 of Wrath of the Dragons
“I need you to know that it always would’ve been you I asked to do this, even if Ailliard were still here. You’re the person I’ve loved longest.”
He loses his battle with his emotions, muttering a curse as tears stream down his cheeks. His arms wrap around me, sweeping me off my feet as he swings me in circles. I laugh into the crook of his neck, wet with tears of my own, before he sets me on my feet.
“Of course, Ellie. I’d be honored.”
His reaction eases something within me. I’ve been on edge since I woke up, knowing I’d be fitted for my wedding dress. I don’t recall ever dreaming of a wedding, even when I was a little girl. When you don’t believe you’re destined for or deserving of love, it seems pointless to dream of it. Saskia follows me out of the sitting room, accepting a stack of letters tied with a ribbon from a waiting servant in the hall. Finnian doesn’t remain with us. He’s due to meet Cayden and Ryder to give them insight into his soldiers’ numbers and skills. I could’ve done it, but I’m glad it’s Finnian. Appointing him as commander was one of the easiest decisions I’ve ever made.
I was informed that Chef Leonardo takes a nap between breakfast and lunch, and I’m relieved to find that to be true. The kitchen is vacant. Wooden beams that match the counters and island at the center run along the stone walls and ceiling. I throw a pale-yellow apron over my gown and sink to my knees to light the fire beneath the oven to bring it up to the desired temperature as I work. It’s quaint but has everything you could need for either baking or cooking. Copper pots hang from shelves filled with potted herbs and spices, and sacks of flour and sugar line the wall beneath a large window. Saskia gets settled at the breakfast nook in the corner, and I put the kettle on for her.
For loving baking as much as I do, I haven’t done it much. I mainly learned by watching bakers through their kitchen windows while I perched in a tree, swearing to myself I’d one day be able to have food I wanted, not just food I ate because it was available. Sitting still has never been a skill I’ve mastered, and with the current state of my mind, I’d probably create a trench in the floor with all of my pacing.
I like to bake because it’s one of the only things where I can control the outcome. I garden because I want to know that my hands can create life, not just take it away. I read because sometimes the confines of this world seek to strangle me, and the words grant me a haven.
“Urasos and Feynadra have responded,” Saskia says when I place the teacup in front of her. “The king and queen of Feynadra will attend, but the crown prince and princess of Urasos will come in place of the king. He’s gravely ill and can’t risk the journey.”
I blow a rogue curl out of my face while dumping flour into a bowl. “Tell me what you know about them.”
She sets her letter aside, fixing her dark eyes on me as I bustle around the space. I know basic information from tutoring myself, but I need more. “Queen Nasha of Feynadra is the sister of Queen Cordelia of Galakin and they are rumored to be quite close. She may be able to put in a good word with Cordelia since she won’t be in attendance. The king of Feynadra, Lycidias, is extremely reserved, and known as the frost king. I don’t believe it’ll be challenging to get either of them to recognize your claim as heir to Imirath or secure neutrality. They’re extremely traditional. Queen Nasha has earned the title she-wolf due to her protective nature of her children; they’re her only happiness in her marriage. Lycidias doesn’t concern himself with issues in other kingdoms and will want to keep his soldiers close in case Vareveth falls.”
“My letter to Cordelia has still gone unanswered so let’s hope Nasha has some sway over her sister.” I finish mixing my dry ingredients and begin mashing raspberries in a separate bowl. “What of Urasos?”
“They’re a bit more complicated.” Saskia sighs, gliding a hand down her crimson skirts and taking a sip of tea. “Princess Lethia is anoble woman originally from Thirwen, and I don’t know how close she is with her family. Her father is the richest in the kingdom and married her off to Prince Hale with a substantial dowry. Apparently, she hated Prince Hale in the beginning, but they seem to have resolved their issues. He adores her now. Urasos has the same reputation as Feynadra for remaining neutral, but I don’t know if Thirwen’s involvement with Imirath will influence that.”
A crease forms between my brows. “If they can’t assure their neutrality and refuse to support my rightful claim to the Imirath throne, we’ll be forced to regard them as enemies. I suppose we’ll see how deep Prince Hale’s admiration for the princess runs when dragons are flying over their kingdom.”
Saskia nods. “Let them speak first. Both of us know firsthand how women in our world aren’t valued by their fathers.”
“I will.” I scoop the raspberry mixture into my shortbread tarts and place them in the stone cavern. The scent of cinnamon surrounds me when I begin my next recipe, not bothering to clean the island since another mess will be created. “Anything noteworthy in your reports?”
“No news of the lords yet, but you only just planted the seed last night,” she responds, adding the opened letter to her pile and opening another. She blinks slowly, her eyes skimming over the words several times as her lips part. “There was a revolt in the southern isles.”
My spine straightens. “The southern isles?”
“Yes.” She glances up at me in disbelief. “It was quickly quelled, but my spy reports that the tension is palpable in the streets. A group of fishermen threw their nets around Imirath soldiers patrolling the docks. At least four drowned, but it’s said they called for the rightful king.” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand. House Vellgrave was slaughtered years ago. None of the heirs survived your great-grandsire.”
“Cayden,” I whisper, realization washing over me.
“Cayden? Why would they be calling for Cayden?”
Saskia doesn’t know Cayden’s parentage. “His father was from the southern isles. Cayden may not have royal blood, but he’s the only king alive with their blood.”
“That’s perfect!” She abruptly smacks her hands against the table, and clumps of brown sugar fly through the air as I squeal. “It strengthens your claim. Why hasn’t he brought this up?”
Cayden hates his father—that’s abundantly clear. He probably doesn’t want anything to do with him, even if it makes his life easier now. He’d view it as a favor from him. “I’ll talk to him when he gets home.”
“I guessed he was part southerner years ago, and he lied.” She scoffs. “He probably didn’t want Ryder and me to have another win against him after Ryder figured out his birthday.”
“How did Ryder manage that?”
She laughs while glancing out the window to the snowy forest. “He wished Cayden a happy birthday every day until he pissed Cayden off enough to reveal it.”
I laugh softly, but it’s weighed down by insecurity. “When is his birthday?”
“The ninth of November.” It passed weeks ago. We would’ve been in Imirath on that date…but I didn’t even know. The lump in my throat doesn’t disappear when I swallow. It stays lodged there like a rock. The rolling pin clatters on the ground, the abrupt noise causing Saskia to jerk her head. “El? What’s wrong?”
“I just wasn’t expecting to know him on the date you said.”
“He hates his birthday anyway. Don’t feel bad.”
