Page 86 of Caress of Fire
“He’s coming!” the guard shouted, yanking Silva away from Lord Anion’s dead body. “My lady, you have to leave Aalstad, now.”
“No!” Silva yanked her arm free of the guard, producing a thin, long blade from the folds of her gown as she stared him down. “Aalstad is mine. I won’t leave it.”
“It’s Lord Fedryc, Lady Silva.” The guard shook his head despite Silva raising her blade threateningly. “And he’s got the feral with him. That beast has the spirits of the old Gods, and it wants revenge on us all.”
Silva scoffed, then pushed the guard away with disgust. “He’s just a feral dragon. He’s no God. He’s just an animal without a soul. Now go out there and shoot him withVenemum Ardere.”
But the guards looked at her with fear, none of them moving. They were petrified of the feral dragon, more so than they were of Silva.
From some distance behind her, Marielle could still hear Isobel crying softly, curved into her tight ball on the floor. She didn’t expect the woman to recover from the betrayal of her daughter. Isobel Haal would forever be the shell of what she had once believed herself to be.
Men shouted in pain and terror on the other side of the wooden door and Silva took a series of steps backwards, her eyes darting around the room. Then, finally, they settled on Marielle. Hydrad hissed at his mistress’ side, showcasing the Draekon woman’s intent before she could even speak.
Marielle got to her feet. Her legs shook and her entire body threatened to break down from grief and fear, but she stood anyway. Because she was the last one to do so.
“I will cleanse this world of you if it’s the last thing I do.”
Silva moved, her blade held high in front of her. Marielle’s eyes latched onto the shining, sharp metal, and she knew a single nick from it would mean an instantaneous and painful death for her.
“It’s over,” Marielle said softly. “You have to stop now. Fedryc won’t hurt you, I know he won’t.”
“Fedryc?” Silva spat out the name, foam at the corners of her mouth, her eyes crazed and glassy. “Fedryc is dead! Don’t you understand that? He’s dead! And soon, you’ll join him. You and your abomination of a family.”
Anger flared inside Marielle, anger at this girl who was so young, had so much, and had chosen to destroy everything instead.
“No.” Marielle shook her head, standing strong as she faced Silva’s poisoned blade. She had nothing to fight Silva with but her bare hands, but she wasn’t going to back down. “I won’t let you hurt them. You’ve done enough of that already.”
“Then you die.” Silva smirked, exposing her teeth like a dog.
She didn’t wait long to make her move. Silva lunged at her, swinging the poisoned blade in a wide arc. Marielle swerved to the side, barely missing the blade that sliced through the first layer of her gown.
Silva didn’t stop, and this time, Hydrad closed in in tandem with her. The golden dragon snapped at Marielle’s heels, cutting her retreat to the side further to the back of the room. So Marielle inched closer to the door, toward where the screams of dying men were coming from.
Another blow, closely missed, and Marielle stepped back, panting despite moving very little. She had nowhere to go. The door and the feral dragon were at her back, and the room was full of Knat-Kanassis guards, who wouldn’t stop Silva from slicing her open with aVenemum Arderepoisoned blade.
With the next slice of that blade, Silva wouldn’t miss.
Just then, the heavy wooden door exploded in a cloud of dust and power. Marielle was thrown to the floor like a doll, her face landing on the hard surface as pain registered everywhere in her body. Adrenaline made her head clear fast as she struggled to her knees, looking frantically around for Silva and her poisoned blade. She didn’t have to search long. The girl was lying in a patch of rubble, her golden dragon near her feet.
Reassured that she wasn’t about to get stabbed, Marielle turned toward the door.
A glorious, tall figure emerged amidst the screams and the dust. His large shoulders and lean, powerful limbs moved with confidence as hooded figures ran at him, then fell under the might of his blade. Not once did the tall figure look down at the men he struck.
There was no need. None ever got back up.
Marielle watched, a primal joy blossoming in her belly as she sat back on her heels. Her head swam and giddy laughter left her mouth. She would recognize that figure in a hundred, in a thousand. In a million.
Fedryc.
His name bounced around in her head like a song.
“Marielle!” Fedryc’s voice like volcanic velvet sliced through the air. “Marielle, where are you?”
She opened her mouth to call out to him but cold metal came to rest at the base of her throat, silencing her.
“Stay where you are, cousin, or your Draekarra dies.” Silva’s voice came from behind her. She had moved with the reptilian silence of a Draekon, and now, she held a poisoned blade a hair’s breadth from Marielle’s jugular.
Marielle breathed lightly, not wanting to move her throat as the air leaked inside bit by bit, Silva at her back. She could feel the Draekon girl close now, dainty fingers grabbing her hair to pull her head back. With her face turned to the ceiling, Marielle strained to see in front of her, and all she could make out of Fedryc was the outline of his silhouette as he moved forward.
