Page 15 of Wings of Cruelty and Flame (Heir of Wyvara #1)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

AMEIRAH

I struggled to breathe, betrayal closing like a noose around my throat. Varidian’s legion killed Naila, my cousin, my only friend, the person I loved more than anyone in the world. The man I saw discard her shredded, broken body in the town square was my husband’s best friend.

I remembered running across Strava Square towards her, screaming her name. Her face was smeared in blood but recognisable, her pale gold headscarf so soiled it resembled crimson silk. I remembered the face of the man who left her there; he turned when I screamed, hatred moulding his face into an evil mask that haunted my dreams. It had been two years, but I still remembered the feeling of her blood soaking, cold, into my dress as I dropped beside her, clutching her body to me. I remembered the dark smears it left on my gloves and the way my heart beat unnaturally hard.

When I realised she wasn’t just hurt but dead, I’d laid her gently on the ground and ripped off my gloves. But by the time I looked up, her killer was gone.

I flexed my hands inside their gloves now, my heart beating just as hard. Air tore past me, ripping out strands of hair as Makrukh flew at the head of the legion’s formation, but I barely felt any of it. Varidian’s arm across my waist was like a dead weight instead of a tantalising comfort. My skin didn’t tingle anymore. His legion killed Naila.

I’d never felt a betrayal as sharp as this before. The betrayal of my father’s love turning to hate happened slowly, a slow slide of months after Shahzia’s death. At first he didn’t sharpen his tongue against me, didn’t look at me with resentment or fear; those moments came sparingly until the shock of her and the clergy’s death wore off, leaving only clarity. His daughter had killed his youngest. I was a killer.

But I never intended to hurt anyone. Varidian and his legion, though… they executed Naila. Executed. There were ribbons of blood wound around her body, bled from hundreds of cuts. What did they do to her?

I opened my mouth to demand that answer, but my breath caught when I looked up from where I’d been glaring at a spot on Makrukh’s pale neck. We’d flown over the seemingly endless mountain range that covered most of eastern Ithanys, the jagged peaks flowing right to the wall. Sharp, crooked spires still reached for the sky all around us, these formed of a silver rock that was almost purple, and with the backdrop of the azure sky, it was beautiful. But the streak of violent orange to our right made my heart skip, and so did the dark smoke staining the air above where houses burned.

“What’s the name of the village?” I asked, the first words I’d spoken in two hours.

Varidian’s voice was rough and deep when he answered. “It didn’t have a name a hundred years ago. Now we call it the Last Guard.”

My stomach knotted when the scent of that smoke reached us, acrid and bitter. My throat tickled but I fought the cough back. What kind of gentry would I be to cough at smoke, when we were born to ride beings who breathed fire and destruction?

But it was one thing to grow up hearing stories of fire and destruction and quite another to see it painted across the mountains, the fire so thick in places I struggled to see the buildings beneath. My stomach turned as the smoke settled heavy over me, and when the first screams reached my ears, I nearly threw up. I wanted to beg Makrukh to fly away, to carry me far from the death and howling fear we raced towards, but if we fled, people would die.

Cold deluged my body. I could die here.

It had seemed like an adventure this morning. Flying to a far-flung village to defeat enemies and save people in need. But there was nothing gleaming and magical about this. There was only grit and gore and those guttural screams as people died.

I sat stiff on Makrukh’s back, wide eyes taking in the burning village. When we grew close enough to make out the shape of winding stone streets, I forced myself not to turn away from the sight of people running from the flames, carrying children or treasured possessions bundled in their arms. Even if I wanted to cry at the sight, I watched. Those people were going to burn.

“We need to help them,” I shouted over the roar of flame and wind. I couldn’t stand the thought of them burning.

Varidian’s arm tightened around my waist, and for a moment that touch didn’t make me want to vomit or murder him. I could kill him later, when there wasn’t a village collapsing beneath us.

“Something is wrong here,” he said against my ear, his body frozen and tense behind me. “Mak, do you see the tigers?”

Makrukh rumbled his reply, his neck swivelling to search the village as he made slow passes over the burning streets. The heat of the flames was like a wall, slamming into us. The Wall of Hydaran itself loomed close, casting a tall shadow over the mountains.

Around us, wings beat at the sky. The legion awaiting Varidian’s orders, I realised with nausea. Because he was a prince and ranked the highest as commander. Which meant Naila’s death…

“Kalder don’t set fires,” he said, cutting my thought in half. “This is wyvern work.”

“But… we’re still in Ithanys, aren’t we?”

“We are,” Varidian agreed grimly. When I turned my head to look at him, he was assessing the village with a cold calculation I’d almost call cunning. “But this wouldn’t be the first wyvern attack so close to the border this year. There’s something we don’t understand happening.”

Below us, a woman in ragged, blackened clothes screamed a name, over and over. The cold inside me intensified. Who had she lost? Were they in one of these blazing buildings, or lost in the streets? Smoke had obscured most of the winding pathways, the buildings crammed close together on either side of them. Easy for fire to jump from one home to another.

I coughed, turning my face into my shoulder as the smoke thickened. My eyes burned, itchy.

Below, the woman screamed—louder, sharper. I looked down again and sucked in a gasp of blackening smoke. A timber had fallen across the narrow path, fire crawling across its surface, and on the other side a boy, no older than five, was surrounded by flames. A bubble of water was the only barrier between him and the fire, and whatever fledgling magic he had was getting steadily smaller. He had minutes at most before the fire reached him. Before we were forced to watch a child perish.

“Varidian,” I breathed, jerking forward, my heart in my throat.

“Shit. Hold on, Ameirah. Zaarib, Shula, Aliah, find water to put this shit out.”

“From where?” Shula yelled back, her scowl making her look very similar to her brutal wyvern.

“Fahad, Nabil, start getting people out—as many as can fit on wyvern back.”

Varidian didn’t stick around to answer Shula’s question. His hand flexed on my middle, his only warning before Makrukh dove suddenly, carrying us into the smoke, towards the hot, boiling fire.

Goosebumps covered my arms and fear cut through me so deeply that I gasped for air, close to hyperventilating. We were flying right into the fire, past buildings streaming flames, the mortar between bricks melted until structures collapsed with sounds louder than anything I’d ever heard.

This wasn’t an adventure; this was terrifying. Death lurked in every flicker and flame, ready to devour. On the tallest building, the purple pennant of House Saber burned, its edges curled and blackened, the wolf’s head in the middle the only part of it left. Whoever had attacked the Last Guard, they were enemies of the king, enemies of Ithanys.

How the hell did Kalder get a wyvern? Armoured cats could shred a body to blood and bones, but they couldn’t do this. I might have explained it as a normal fire, but bricks and mortar and lead had melted. This was wyvernfyre.

I jumped when Varidian released my waist, gasping down more smoke until my body shook with a cough. A solid wall of heat hit me, enough to make my skin prickle with warning. Oh fuck, I was going to die. I’d fall off Mak’s back and plummet into the burning wreckage of the house beneath us. My thighs screamed from the exertion of gripping the wyvern’s back.

“Hold on,” Varidian ordered again, his voice low and as hard as stone. It was a command that made me tighten my hold on Mak and dig the toes of my shoes into his scales even if I wanted to cry and scream and run away.

But I couldn’t run away. We were close enough now to see the fear on the boy’s face, the tears running over soot-darkened skin, and the perilous flicker of his water dome. He was almost out of power. Almost dead.

“Get as close as you can,” Varidian ordered Makrukh. “Ameirah, don’t let go no matter what.”

“What are you going to do?” I demanded, screaming when Mak nosedived and Varidian leaned so far left he hung on by the force of his legs alone.

Hot air tore at my face, ripping my air out of my lungs, but fear made me ice cold inside as Varidian leaned further, hanging off Makrukh’s side, his arms outstretched.

“Are you insane?” I screamed, panic drumming against my ribcage.

He didn’t reply. Great, I was going to lose my husband a mere day after marrying him. Everyone would think I pushed him off the wyvern’s back. My hands grew sweaty where I held onto Makrukh. I didn’t want to admit they were shaking, or that quivers ran through my legs.

I’d never been so afraid before. I hadn’t known it was possible to be this scared. It was so hot, so suffocating, and both fae screams and wyvern screeches filled the air, stabbing my head. I barely heard myself when I cried out at Makrukh’s sudden dip, his wings brushing the tops of ruined buildings, sending bricks tumbling. The flames were so loud, crackling, devouring, that I didn’t even hear the bricks hit the ground.

“Be careful!” I yelled pointlessly.

Varidian hung treacherously from his wyvern’s back, eerily calm like he’d done this a hundred times before. Maybe he had. Maybe rescuing children from horrific fires was an everyday occurrence for him. I wished I had his calm, but I couldn’t stop gasping, shaking, terrified I was going to die. I should be brave and heroic like the characters in my books, but when Mak grappled at the wreckage of walls on either side of us with his wings, as close to the ground as he could get, I almost vomited.

I wasn’t brave or valiant or heroic. I was one fae, with no experience, no courage, and useless magic. If I’d had air or water magic, I could have put out the fire. I could have saved these people.

A shadow passed above and I flinched hard, but it was just Nabil on his dark green wyvern, its tail lashing the air as they flew faster than an arrow over the village. Had they already evacuated people, or were we helpless, unable to do anything but watch a mass death?

“Lower, Mak!” Varidian yelled.

But Makrukh couldn’t get lower; there wasn’t the space in the narrow road between rows of ruined houses. Fire licked at the wyvern’s wings, coming scarily close to me. Mak might have been fireproof but I certainly wasn’t. My heart thundered in my chest, my hands so sweaty I had to adjust my grip on his spike once, twice, three times. I was going to fall. I couldn’t breathe. I was going to—

“Mak!” Varidian bellowed, his voice cutting through my chest and striking my heart into an irregular beat.

I didn’t want to look over Mak’s heaving side, didn’t want to see, but I couldn’t bear it. One glance and bile burned its way up my throat. Oh, fuck. We were nine feet above the ground, too far away for Varidian to reach the boy or his screaming mother. And racing along the mountain road towards the boy in his delicate bubble of magic, huge paws thundering the stone, horrific mouth hanging open to show rows of steel teeth, was a Kaldic tiger.

Ice filled my blood, my insides frozen even as my skin burned at the fire’s wrath. I’d never seen a tiger outside of books and art before. It was far bigger than I’d imagined, almost eight feet tall, with teeth and claws sharp enough to shred a body, and hammered steel covered its body, legs, and head, spikes forged at the helmet and vambraces. Designed for one purpose: to rip a body apart.

The amour was rent in places, ragged in others. I shuddered to think how many times it had been used, how many lives it had taken.

“Varidian,” I gasped, though he stood no chance of hearing me. I shook harder, gasping for air, choking on acrid smoke. It wasn’t just buildings burning now; I’d never smelled this before, but I knew the tang in the air was the scent of people burning.

The boy would be next. His bubble of magic was so thin I could barely see it now. Fire pressed against him on all sides, but the tiger racing ever closer was the worse threat. I couldn’t stand to watch it, but I couldn’t look away. The tiger was a fifth the size of even the smallest wyvern, but the danger was they never ran alone. Where was the rest of its pack? An organised group of tigers could take down a wyvern in five minutes flat. I wished I hadn’t read quite so many books, learned quite so many facts.

We weren’t safe here, but a boy was dying below and Varidian couldn’t leave him any more than I could. If I was terrified, how afraid was the boy? How afraid was his mother? I couldn’t hear her screaming anymore. I prayed it was because she’d seen that help had come and not because—because the fire took her. I couldn’t bring myself to look in her direction. I didn’t want to know.

I jumped, gasping a sob when Makrukh roared a sudden warning, so loud it blocked out the crash of collapsing buildings and fae screams for a moment. The tiger didn’t heed the warning; if anything it ran faster, the black-clad rider hunched lower on its back. I couldn’t see the expression on the rider’s face but my imagination provided a twisted look of hatred and rage. For a child.

My own rage kindled, but fear snuffed it out when Varidian leaned lower, barely holding himself on Mak’s back. He was going to fall. I screamed when Makrukh knocked bricks from the buildings with his wings, trying to climb lower, close enough to the flames that heat blasted my hair back from my face. I hunched lower with a whimper, my eyes flowing tears. When I blinked them clear, Varidian had almost reached the boy, his grasping fingers so close, so close—

The tiger lunged forward with a burst of unnatural speed at the same time a howling wyvern cry came from across the village, and Varidian glanced up for a second. I followed the direction of the cry, too, inhaling a gasp of smoke when I saw a wyvern beat the burning sky with wings of midnight, mouth parted on a stream of flames.

“Fuck,” I whimpered.

A wyvern had really done this, reduced the village to cinders. I shook atop Makrukh, gasping, my head pounding with stress.

Three of Varidian’s legion raced to intercept the midnight wyvern, to prevent any more destruction, and my heart leapt into my throat. I wouldn’t miss Zaarib, but the others… they were Varidian’s friends. I didn’t want to watch anyone die.

Mak surged beneath me, ripping a scream from my throat at the sudden lurch. I slammed my eyes shut, holding on for dear life, a frantic prayer on my lips. I couldn’t explain why I prayed for Varidian, who’d helped kill my cousin, or for his legion, who’d murdered her. I should hate them. I did hate them. But the scalding brush of fiery air and the screams had shaken my hatred.

Makrukh roared again, and I slitted my eyes open to see if the midnight wyvern was racing for us with murder in its throat, fire on its tongue. But Mak’s attention was below where—

Another sob burst free, the tears lining my eyes spilling over my hot cheeks. The armoured tiger reached the boy before Varidian or Mak, teeth, claws, and metal spikes colliding with his magic, popping it like a bubble, and—

I looked away, my eyes squeezed shut. I wished I didn’t hear the crunch and wet sounds of the tiger slaughtering the child. My stomach roiled. I angled my face away as vomit sprayed.

The boy was dead. The tiger killed him. I gasped, gasped, wheezed, sobbed—

Varidian shouted his rage, and I could have sworn the air crackled with it. The tiger stopped its vicious shredding, but it was too late. There was little left of the boy with water magic. My bottom lip quivered, more tears flowing. I knew we’d been at war for centuries, but this was the first time I really understood what that meant—innocents had been murdered for centuries. How many of our children had been killed since the war began? How many of Kalder’s had our own people killed? Had Varidian’s legion killed their share of children?

Why was this allowed to happen, for hundreds and hundreds of years? My stomach twisted again, but I choked it back, shaking with fear and rage.

The king must have known what happened at the border. The clergy and gentry, too. Surely these lives were worth more than winning the damned war? Most people alive couldn’t even remember what had started it, we were so caught up with hating Kalder and pushing to win the war, to be victorious, we’d lost sight of its origins. What was the point of fighting a war for no cause, when children were dying. How often? Every month? Every week? Or were children slaughtered every day?

I hated this. Hated the battles, the legions, the warring, the murder. It burned in my chest, as hot as the air slapping my face.

Varidian lunged suddenly, like he would leap off Makrukh’s back and fight the tiger with his bare hands, and I was tempted to let him. If he wanted to get himself killed in the name of violence and victory, who was I to stop him?

But Mak let out a chilling sound, half scream, half cry, and my heart knocked into my ribs when I realised Varidian wasn’t lunging; he was falling.

I should just let him die. My husband was a murderer. There was no glory or pride in flying into battle like I thought only this morning. Being a warrior was gritty and bloody and I wasn’t sure I liked it.

But the bastard was my husband, and even if I wanted to murder him… I didn’t want him to die. So with a growl, I wrapped my right arm around Makrukh’s spike in a tentative hold, and choking on tight breaths of panic, I let go with my other hand, fumbling at the air.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

I was going to slip, fall, and splatter on the cobbles below. If I was lucky, I’d break my neck on landing. If I was unlucky, the tiger would shred me, too.

“I’m going to regret this,” I gasped, forcing my eyes open to slits so I could see Varidian’s hand, choking back a shriek at how close the fire was, at the violent spikes of the tiger racing under us, leaping the burning timber in its search for more victims.

Eyes on Varidian, I reached my hand further, further from my body, my arm shaking where I held onto Mak’s spike, tears veiling my vision. I was wrong earlier when I said I’d never been so afraid. That fear had nothing on this, hanging onto a wyvern by a single arm, reaching down, down into thin air for my husband as he clung to Makrukh with thigh power alone. He hung almost upside down, hands flailing, reaching for a handhold and finding nothing.

“Varidian!” I yelled, holding out my hand, breathing faster, smoke burning my throat raw. I suppressed a cough; one false move and I’d tumble off Makrukh’s back too.

I strained my fingers further, muscles burning in my arm, a scream between my gritted teeth. I saw Varidian’s mouth open on a cry when he dropped another inch, but the flames were so loud I couldn’t hear him. Which meant he couldn’t hear me either. Shit. It was all up to me.

This was what I got for wanting to be valiant and heroic.

The gloves were a hindrance. I swallowed bile and hooked the tip of my glove with my teeth ripping it off my hand, reaching for the only person in the world I couldn’t kill with my touch.

I screamed as I stretched another inch, then two, then—hooked my fingers around Varidian’s sleeve, hauling with all my might. Sensing my intention, Makrukh tilted his body to help my momentum, bricks tumbling on either side of us as his clawed wings knocked them free. I dug my fingernails into Varidian’s leather coat, pulling with everything I had, exhaling a small sound when he reached up with his other hand and grabbed the sharp edge of Makrukh’s scales.

His eyes locked on mine, so bright with fear, his pupils blown, face bleached. I didn’t look away, didn’t let him see one flicker of doubt. I refused to let my husband die here. I refused to let him die at all.

When he dragged himself closer, scale by toughened ivory scale, I locked my hand around his wrist and heaved, throwing myself backward, forcing him onto Makrukh’s back even if muscles pulled in my arms.

“Fuck,” he exhaled shakily, his whole body trembling when he finally pulled himself up behind me, settling his legs on either side of Mak on pure instinct. “Fuck.”

He was alive. Shaking and swearing and alive. But the boy was dead, and I wasn’t na?ve enough to think his mother had survived. Maybe it was better that they were together.

Somewhere close, a rider and wyvern screamed in unison. A male fae voice roared, “Let’s roast these fuckers!”

I didn’t have enough courage and strength left to do anything but tremble and cling to Varidian and Makrukh.

“Are you stable?” Varidian panted, pulling the glove from my mouth, carefully rolling it up my hand. “Can you fly, Ameirah?”

I jerked my head in a nod, forcing myself to let go of him when his arms locked around my waist, snapping both my hands around Mak’s spike again. My hands shook worse than ever, and all I could taste was bile and vomit, but I was alive. I hadn’t burned to death. Yet.

“You heard Zaarib, Mak. Let’s roast these fuckers.”

A chill went down my spine at my husband’s hard words. He’d just witnessed a child murdered, but he was still eager to burn and spill blood himself. I knew if we didn’t fight, the wyvern and tigers and their riders would kill us, but that truth tasted bitter.

I swallowed my scream when Makrukh shifted his weight and then leapt back into the air, screaming a warning into the grey skies over the Last Guard.

“The rider,” Varidian said, his breath roughened by smoke. “Did you see them?”

I nodded. I wished I hadn’t.

“The sigil they wore wasn’t Kaldic.” His voice hardened. “Have you seen a minaret surrounded by stars before?”

The man I’d murdered when I was seven flashed behind my eyes and I stiffened. “Clergy.”

“Exactly. But why the hell are Ithanysians under attack by a clergy member riding a damn tiger?”