Page 63 of Wrath of the Dragons
“Don’t get used to it.” His gaze remains locked on my lips like they’re the only thing he can see as he removes the pink fabric. “I have something for you. Are you almost done?”
“Fuck me, this is good,” Ryder groans from the kitchen, and I push away from Cayden and run back from where I came, finding Ryder at the small breakfast nook by the window with a plate piled high. “Elowen, if it doesn’t work out between you and Cayden then I’m—”
“Sas, grab your letters,” Cayden warns. Water flies over my shoulder, drenching Ryder and his ample pickings. Cayden loudly tosses the bucket that I was using to wash dishes to the floor. “I’ve been meaning to get that leak checked.”
I cover my mouth with my hand to try to suppress my laughter while Ryder sputters and wipes his eyes and Saskia clings to the wall like a lifeline. “That was highly uncalled for!”
“What did you think was going to happen after you said that?” Finnian manages to ask through his boisterous laughs. “He’s threatened people for looking at her.”
“Not that!” Ryder shouts.
Cayden shrugs, unlatching the window and tossing a honey bun toDelmira. My heart tightens in my chest, knowing that years ago he watched me do the same thing. I throw a cloak around my shoulders before putting my boots on.
Cayden shoves a honey bun into his mouth as he waits and grabs a cinnamon roll for the brief walk outside. The wind slams into my face as he unlatches the wooden door, carrying away the flour and sugar speckling my cheeks. My boots sink into the snow when I stop dead in my tracks, spotting a quiver filled with arrows and an array of red targets in the distance.
“I told you I hate shooting with a bow.”
“Which is why I brought you something different,” he replies, pressing a hand into my back to keep me walking, and plucks a sleek, polished weapon from the table he must’ve set up. “A crossbow.”
I take it from his hands, surprised by how much it weighs, and envy Cayden for how effortless he makes it look to hold this thing. “I’ve never used one of these.”
“You have this wonderful thing called a husband who is well-versed in many weapons.” I roll my eyes, not bothering to correct him again—it won’t get through his thick skull. He pulls my back to his front, covering his hands with mine to show me how to properly hold the weapon. “Remember that if your eye ever wanders.” He kisses my cheek. “Now, you’re going to keep this finger on the trigger and aim at eye level. It’s best to keep both eyes open to get an accurate shot.”
He keeps his lips close to my ear, maneuvering the crossbow into the correct position and pressing down on my finger, letting the arrow fly and absorbing the kickback as it hits the center of the target. He releases me to grab an arrow from the quiver lodged in the snow and twirls it in his fingers as he shows me how to reload it. “Is this why you couldn’t sleep last night? Were you thinking about me fighting the wyverns?”
His lips remain shut, and his face gives nothing away as he juts his chin toward the target. I roll my neck, keeping my feet shoulder width apart and taking the shot. The arrow zings through the air, landing several inches away from the center.
“When you’re using it in a battle, you’ll feel when the aim is right. The more you use it the easier it’ll become.” He moves behind me again, correcting my stance with his arms wrapped around me. He fires again, splitting the previous arrow he shot down the middle when the other lands in the same place. I lower the crossbow, tilting my head back as he straightens to his full height. “Show every bastard on that field what you can do, El. Show them what it means to be your enemy.”
“There’s something you need to know,” I say. His brows furrow, but he doesn’t release me. It’s better he hears this from my lips. “There are revolts in the southern isles. The people are calling for the rightful king. You’re the only ruler in Ravaryn with the blood of the southern isles with a claim to the Imirath throne. I think they’re calling for you.”
His eyes narrow as he runs his tongue over his teeth. “Okay.”
I drop the crossbow to my side, turning to face him as he twirls one of my curls around his finger. “Okay?”
He shrugs. “Imirath soldiers knew who I was when my father entered me in fights, and he had the deep tan complexion of most people in the southern isles, same as me. I don’t have any royal blood, so if they’re calling for a bastard to be their king then so be it.”
“You’re not bothered?”
“Of course I’m bothered,” he says. “I don’t want a damn thing from that man.” He grabs the crossbow from my hand and points it at the farthest target that’s no more than a speck in the distance. “But this will gain us an advantage because if they’re calling for me, they’re calling for you. It further weakens Garrick if people in his territory are calling for a bastard and a displaced heir to take his throne. Let them scream our names loud enough to reach Garrick in the tallest tower of his castle as an omen of what’s coming.”
He pulls the trigger, hitting the target dead center.
Chapter
Thirty-one
Elowen
Calithea sharply downturns along oneof the castle spires, twirling around the tower effortlessly. Instead of taking hold of the saddle horns, I spread my arms wide, reveling in the feeling of being weightless while my saddle straps keep me attached to her. It’s a high I’ve never experienced and know I’ll never find elsewhere.
She evens out, swooping up again and carrying me to where I’m needed. I unhook myself and slide down her wing into the meeting room that’s open on all sides, with only a few ivy-covered pillars to offer some semblance of a barrier from the staggering fall to the bottom. The magic within the castle must keep the plants alive, considering the Dasterians were once linked to earth magic.
Basilius shoves his head between the pillars Calithea vacated, nuzzling my stomach with his snout as I pull my glove off with my teeth. I kiss him between the eyes before he turns away, taking to the skies with the others to stand guard over me.
“How is it that it takes you longer to get here on dragonback than it does for us on horses?” Ryder asks as I stride toward the long table.
I slide my coat down my arms and hand it off to a servant. The room is enchanted to stay heated despite the open concept, but the cold nips at my exposed shoulders and clings to the crown resting across my forehead. A dark blue sapphire glimmers in the center andmatches my off-the-shoulder corset top embellished with gold brocade along the bodice, draping sleeves, and panels of fabric that reach just below the backs of my knees. “If you could ride a dragon, you’d never want your feet on the ground.”
