Page 67 of Wrath of the Dragons
Elowen
“Stop glaring,” I hiss.
“This is just my face.”
“You’re making a point to scowl at any man in our vicinity.”
“When, pray tell, have you known me to not do that?” Cayden balances a smoke between his lips, and I ignore both his words and the jolt it sends through me as he flips my hood up to fend off the wind.
Finnian reaches into the basket looped on my arm to pull out another honey bun, eating half of it in one bite and throwing his head back while groaning. “I still think you should open a bakery once the war is over.”
“You’ll be my taste-tester in exchange for new knives when you take over for Blade.”
“Deal.” He drapes an arm over my shoulders, tucking me into his side as we climb up the hill that leads to where most people from Aestilian have settled. Snow-topped stone cottages line the road, their shutters open and smoke rising from the chimneys. Children throw snowballs, some even going as far as to climb trees to get a higher vantage point, while adults buried in blankets sip steaming mugs on the porches.
“Queen Elowen!” a little boy calls out, bounding toward me on his tiny legs. He’s swallowed in a coat two times his size. I sink into a squat and open my arms for him just before he slams into my body.
“Hi, Ollie.”
Two years ago, I was traveling through the Terrwyn Forest during a terrible storm when I found him. The rain was so bad that I could hardly see my hand in front of my face, and sought shelter in what I thought was a vacant home within one of the unnamed villages. But Ollie was there, starving, freezing, and crying in front of a hearth he didn’t know how to light. His parents abandoned him, claiming several days prior that they’d return from the market in a few hours. I brought him to my house to make him soup and tea before taking him to the orphanage. He took to the other children quickly, and his smile is something I’ll always be thankful for. He’s probably about six years old now, but he didn’t know his birthday so that’s just a guess.
“You’ve grown since I last saw you.”
“Three inches,” he proudly states, dragging his fingers through my curls like he did when I carried him on my horse. He has freckles across the bridge of his sloped nose and curly blond hair. His brown eyes slide to Cayden, and he tilts his head. “Is he your husband? Everyone keeps saying you’re married now.”
“Yes,” Cayden says at the same time I say, “No.” I glare at him over my shoulder. “We’re getting married in a few days, and you are more than welcome to attend with Lady Marigold and the other children.”
He beams like I just told him the sun will never stop shining. “Will there be lots of food?”
“More than you could imagine,” I whisper it like it’s a secret, and his eyes brighten as I reach into my basket. “And I made your favorite.”
He squeals, jumping in place when I hand him the cinnamon roll, squishing it a bit when he holds it to his chest. His little dancing fit lands him directly in front of Cayden, who looks down at Ollie like he’s another species, while Ollie looks up at him with wide eyes.
“Is it true you drink blood?” he innocently asks, and Finnian’s laughter flies freely.
“Yes.”
“No!” I exclaim as other children begin to swarm me, and I lower the basket to let them pick whatever pastry they want. Ollie remainsstaring, and Finnian continues to vibrate with barely suppressed giggles.
“Yes?” Cayden lifts a brow and addresses Finnian over my head. “What do I do with it?”
“Oh, Ryder is going to be sorry to have missed this,” Finnian mutters, stepping forward to greet the children.
“How many people have you killed?” Ollie asks.
“How high can you count?” Cayden replies.
Ollie scrunches his brows, counting off on his fingers silently. “One hundred and seven.”
“Let’s go with that.” Cayden looks to me for help, seeming more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him. I glance at Finnian, unable to control my laughter any longer. For months, Ollie has said he wants to be a soldier, and Cayden’s victories aren’t a secret.
“I never liked the men who hung around Elowen. Well, some were okay, I guess.” He picks at the button on his jacket. “Finnian is the best. Everyone knows she loves Finnian.”
“Right you are, little man,” Finnian calls out.
Cayden’s eyes light up at that, and he sinks down to Ollie’s height. “Do you remember their names?”
“Okay!” I exclaim, and step between the pair, hauling the basket off my arm. “Ollie, can I trust you to bring this to Lady Marigold to ensure all the children get one?”
