Page 208 of Upon Buried Embers
Master is cruel, but what the king is doing seems even crueler.
It’s a while later when Rohan finds us.
He doesn’t say anything, just observes us, something akin to pain residing in those dark eyes as he moves closer and runs a hand over every dragon.
“What happens when you complete The Games, what do you win?” I ask quietly.
He sits next to me, shoulders touching mine and he runs his fingers over my hair at his wrist.
“We get out with our lives, that’s what we win.”
“Surely, there has to be a way to stop this.”
“There is.”
“What?” I ask, sitting up. “What will stop him from hurting dragons, from hurting the Dragorie?”
He smiles sadly. “The cost is far too great, Little Whisperer.”
I deflate. “What is it?”
His eyes bounce between mine, and he goes to speak but shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, it isn’t an option anymore.” He sighs, leaning more heavily on Drogonah as Sparks whimpers, causing all the dragons’ heads to snap to him. He soon settles again.
“There must be something we can do.”
“There is. Find out if someone is betraying us, find the eggs, win The Games, and then, kill the king.”
“Why choose to kill the king now? Why not any of the other times before?”
He looks up, eyes on the opening above. “The last time we tried, dragons fell from the sky and died. We haven’t wanted to risk that again.” His head tilts as he looks at me. “We’re running out of time now, especially with eggs being stolen. They’re the next generation of dragons and they’re at risk. The dragon’s population is at risk. We don’t know how many eggs will hatch.” He looks at Sparks. “We’re nothing without them, and they’re nothing without us. We co-exist or we simply don’t exist without each other.”
I nod, understanding, and he takes my hand, stroking over my palm.
“I thought we could go another route to stop The Games, but things have changed in ways no one expected, one that only few know of. For that, I will bear the consequence, but he has to go, Elf, for more reasons than just the dragons and our people.”
He looks at me, eyes saying much more than words ever could.
“If we don’t survive The Games, if we don’t find the missing eggs, if by the end, we don’t kill him, it’s over. For the dragons, the Dragorie.”
My heart hammers. “What do you mean?”
“We need to get close to him,” he continues. “When The Games end, and he lines all the Dragonbonds up, that’s when we have to strike, regardless of whether he has arrows pointed at our dragons. At us.”
I swallow. “How will you kill him?”
He smiles, and it’s a cruel one.
“With my bare fucking hands.”
Forty Nine
Elf
“Sasha? No, maybe Kara? Ugh, that doesn’t work either.” I groan, helping Sparks with his own little bed next to Drogonah as Escor carries the bucket of stones.
“I need a name that feels like me, you know?”
Rumbles.
