Page 84 of Wrath of the Dragons
I am made of fire, and nothing will burn me.
Magic sings in my blood, and I command it to consume the poison instead of my skin. I turn it on the foreign substance coursing through me like a blade. I build a dam against the pain and force it to become power.
I open my eyes and watch the red swirling marks that stop just above my elbows become lavender, pale blue, silver, and gold. They swirl together like vines and extend to where my gold markings end. The same swirling pattern is reflected on Cayden, but he’s marked in black and one streak of dark blue. His markings travel up the ribs on his right side but leave his stomach bare, swirl across his chest, halfway up his throat, and down his arm.
The golden wisps fade along with the pain, and I can finally take a breath without it feeling like needles are in my lungs. When they’re fully gone, I collapse on Cayden’s chest, listening to the faint sound of his heartbeat that’s become my favorite song. Our hands are healed and though the wounds on his chest aren’t, they’ve stopped bleeding. I only let go when I know for sure that Cayden will be all right. I can clean his wounds later. All that matters is the poison is gone.
The mage is looking between us and our markings like she just witnessed a miracle. “I’ve never seen such markings.”
I take the waterskin Finnian offers me as he brushes my hair back from my sweaty forehead and swish it around my mouth to spit out the blood. “This has never happened when you’ve done the ritual before?”
“No one has ever survived it,” she responds, glancing betweenCayden and me like we’re a puzzle in desperate need of solving, but I don’t have time for her curiosity. Whatever magic coursed through me during the ritual doesn’t dissolve, it grows stronger, pressing on my skin like it needs to be shed. “Youreyes…”
Finnian grasps my chin, and his lips part in surprise. “They’re swirling. It’s like they’re molten gold.”
Rage courses through me like a drug and I lose myself in the high as I get to my feet, still covered in blood and ash from the battle. Vareveth soldiers who witnessed the ritual are kneeling between the corpses in the sand surrounding us; even some soldiers from Thirwen and Imirath follow their actions.
“Where is the mage who created the bomb?” I demand, walking toward the wards. “Bring me Nykeem!”
I stop a few inches away from the glowing wall as the soldiers on the other side begin parting.
“I have refrained from burning your kingdom to the ground, but my mercy goes only so far,” I begin, my voice raspy and raw from screaming. “Zayèra.”
All around me, my dragons’ fire blazes, colliding with the wards as I watch who must be Nykeem breach the crowd and struggle to combat them. His black hair is cropped just below his chin, and his armor is without a speck of blood. It’s clear he didn’t take part in the battle. Other mages from Thirwen join Nykeem, wide-eyed as they watch me. My smile is all bloodstained teeth as I glare at the man, pointing right at him so he knows what’s coming for him.
Death.
“You tell Garrick that his nightmare has returned with a demon at her side.”
Several Imirath soldiers behind the wards drop to their knees, and chaos quickly ensues as those loyal to Garrick spot them. Fights break out, soldiers push into the mages trying to hold the wards, and I laugh.
“Cower behind your wards all you want, but there will come a day when you will not be able to run, and there will be nobody to protectyou when you’re slaughtered by either myself or my king who you failed to kill.”
Another wave of power rushes through me, and I clench my jaw as I thrust my hands out on either side of me, staring into the dragonfire as I pull it toward me.Wield it.A mixture of all my dragons’ flames flickers in my hands and snakes up my arms in circles, answering tome.
I become the flames. Giving in to my power and owning it so nobody can take it from me.
More beyond the wards drop to their knees as I open the bond in my chest, commanding the fire as I command my dragons, and then I join them, shooting fire into the wards as the mages’ struggles worsen. The flames transform into talons at the tips of my fingers, one color for each dragon on both hands. I begin to pry the ward apart like wet clay, tearing strips out of it as the mages’ worried cries flood my ears. I sink my claws into it, thinking about ripping into them. Their hearts could beat in my palms after I tear them from their chests and shove them down their throats.
Not yet,I tell myself.
The wards don’t only keep us from getting in, they also keep them from getting out until they’re down. We arranged to leave for Galakin tomorrow morning once we heard of Thirwen’s movements, and they’ve just sealed themselves within Imirath.
I command the dragons to stop, but they stay close. Sorin and Venatrix hover above, Basilius protects my back, and Delmira and Calithea stand on either side of me.
“You will never be safe again. I’ll always be lurking in the shadows with my blades drawn and flames ready.”
The flames curl up my arms, and in my reflection, I see them form a crown around my head. I slowly release my hold on the power, watching the talons fade away but forcing the crown to remain as I stand my ground with my dragons and face our enemy.
“I am Elowen Veles, and I’m coming for my throne.”
Chapter
Forty-two
Elowen
I remain standing by some miracle,even as my legs burn while trudging through the bloody sand. The wards didn’t include the destroyed fort set on the water, and charred stones continue dropping into the waves as the walls crumble. The world blurs along the edges of my spotty vision as the magic leaves my body, the fatigue hitting me so fiercely it’s as if I fell through the surface of a frozen lake, unable to move as I sink into the dark depths.
