Page 88 of A War of Embers

“Sometimes the way you take charge in the Wraithlands is by establishing dominance over someone else. Usually the scrappier ones go for the higher power to earn respect. No one wants to fight Zeke. He’s pitiless when it comes to the arena and hardly ever gets so much as scratched.”

“You could probably take him, though,” Kennedy assures me, patting my arm. “Then again, you’re probably evenly matched for Lord Rowan, so it wouldn’t be fair for Zeke.”

“Are they really about to fight?” I gape at the way the circle of the crowd widens to give the two men more room. “Zeke could crush him in his dragon form.”

“Zeke’s going to crush him in his mortal form,” Kennedy says. When I raise a questioning eyebrow at him, he explains, “It’s an insult to not fight in your more dominant form. It means you don’t see the person challenging you as being worthy of an actual duel.”

Before I can comment on how ridiculous the idea of a duel over a position sounds, Zeke slams out his fist without warning. Blood splatters across Fillmore’s face, dripping down his nose as he spits a few teeth out. Well now. Zeke seems to retain his dragon strength while in his human form.

Fillmore flies into a rage a moment later, his fists swinging blindly. Zeke dodges them, easily evading Fillmore’s advances. Watching them move looks as though they’re dancing. While Zeke glides gracefully around the makeshift arena, Fillmore stumbles over his own feet, nearly toppling over after only one punch from Zeke. They go around and around several times before Zeke makes another pitiless move.

The dragon lurches forward, tugging on Fillmore’s shirt until he stumbles forward hunched over. Zeke drills his knee upwards, nailing Fillmore in the chest and a sickening crunch fills the air. More blood suddenly appears on Fillmore’s shirt as he lands hard on the ground, wheezing a wet sound. Almost immediately a thin trail of blood seeps out of his mouth before his eyes lose focus, watching the ground instead of his opponent.

Zeke frowns down at him, like he can’t believe the man is already out of commission.

“Did Zeke crack Fillmore’s chest open?” I whisper to Ethan since he has a better view being taller than me. From this position, I’m glancing through people’s shoulders, unable to make out the heap of Fillmore as he rolls in the opposite direction away from Zeke’s looming form.

“Oh yeah,” Ethan nods. “A typical move to end a fight. Fillmore may look large, but he has no training whatsoever. He’s too stubborn to believe others can take him, so he uses his size to intimidate. Clearly there’s no need for intimidation now.”

“Is he dead?”

“Probably not yet,” Kennedy says, sounding disappointed. “Zeke won’t kill him. He’ll let Fillmore live to make an example of how weak he is.”

“A shame, really,” Ethan tacks on. “The good fights are always drawn out. This was just a misfortune to have to witness.”

Fully agreeing with him, I watch as the crowd disassembles. A few people walk forward and kick Fillmore’s body, glaring down at him. Some even spit towards his unmoving head. And he simply lies there, defeated, possibly unconscious in a land meant to house the warriors who claimed victories in war.

Finally, Zeke makes his way towards us, lifting his chin in greeting to Ethan and Kenndy. “I see you found something that got lost.”

Me. For once I don’t argue. Zeke’s far closer to the truth than he realizes with his comment.

“She was on a mission to be alone,” Ethan states. “We kept an eye on her.”

If Zeke realizes Ethan’s lying, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead he raises both blond brows at me as if wanting confirmation. Ratting out the two people who gave me space to do what I felt needed to be done? Absolutely not. When I don’t bother countering or confirming Ethan’s response, Zeke sighs. “You realize by leaving the estate unprotected and without alerting anybody that Lord Rowan went absolutely insane looking for you?”

“How long do you think I’ve been gone?” It’s been almost a full day of getting to the Cliff of Embers, hearing what Micah had to say to me, and then trekking all the way back. I knew they would come for me eventually, but there’s no telling when they finally noticed my absence.

“Lord Rowan went into the Blood Sea,” Zeke informs me.

I suck in a startled breath of air. He what? “Why would he do that?” I breathe out, pain slicing through my chest once again for an entirely different reason now. I care. I care about what happens to him, I know I do. I don’t want to care about anything or anyone, but that doesn’t seem to have stopped my emotions from rioting to the surface. Micah says my soul is growing stronger the longer I’m here, therefore caring about others is becoming something new to me once again.

“He thought you were going to try to find someone to remove your soul. Someone in Tellus. From what I’m aware of, he came back drenched and in a foul mood. Sereia claimed to not have seen you, but Lord Rowan didn’t believe her. I guess she was telling the truth that she hasn’t felt a disturbance in the waves.” He pauses to look between Ethan and Kennedy before his reptilian eyes settle back on me. “So where did you run off to?”

Ignoring his question, I place my hands on my hips and try to sound as stern as I plan to. “I need to speak with Rowan.”

“Oh trust me, little monster, you’re going to end up speaking with him plenty,” Zeke chuckles. “He’s in a foul mood. I would expect to hear a lot of raging before he hears whatever it is you need to say to him.”

Something tells me interrupting Rowan’s rant with what I’ve come to learn might prove useful unless he’s really as wound up about my departure as Zeke claims. “Let’s go back to the estate,” I say. Turning to Ethan and Kennedy, I quickly thank them for their time in escorting me and making sure I was alright during my little adventure into the Wraithlands. Neither of them look like they want to leave it at that, but since Zeke is escorting me to the estate, there’s nothing else for them to do. Finally they turn around and begin their journey back home.

As soon as Zeke and I begin walking back towards the tree line, he shuffles until his shoulder bumps mine. “So,” he casually says, “are you going to tell me what really happened?”

“No.”

“Lord Rowan didn’t say you got into a tiff before you left.”

“We didn’t.”

He stops talking for a few yards before adding, “Was it something Lady Cirilla said? Lord Rowan kicked her out of the estate after she apparently talked to you and then you fled. Did she upset you in some way?”

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