Page 11 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)
Chapter Eight
Elowen
Snow crunches underfoot when I dismount, but I don’t move from between Sorin and Venatrix as I stare down four familiar faces across the bank.
Their wings flare out behind my back and their front claws sink into the ground as they growl low in their throats.
Jarek flinches and quickly moves his bound hands to where I’m sure his blade was before Vareveth soldiers confiscated it.
I click my tongue as Venatrix’s growl sharpens. “Don’t move too quickly. You’ll startle the dragons, and they’re quite protective of me. If they wish to kill you, I won’t be able to stop them.”
Cayden strides toward me, cutting out my old guards and Jarek from view.
He doesn’t have to tell me something is wrong; I know it is.
Border patrols were ordered to grant any Aestilian citizen access into the kingdom and provide them with a safe escort to the castle.
I run my thumb over the ring he gifted me despite it being covered by my glove.
I’ve surmised it’s important to him given how many times his gaze catches it, but I force myself not to ask of the origins again since I know he’ll deny me.
I don’t want to grant him the satisfaction of knowing how much I think of it.
“Why are they here?” Nessa, Esme, and Zander were three of the four guards that escaped Imirath with Ailliard and me.
The only one missing is Lycus. They moved as a pack, and I’ll find him within the hour if he’s lurking somewhere in my kingdom.
They all bear the evidence of a struggle, with split lips and bloody cuts seeping into their clothes.
“The soldiers on patrol found pardons for all but Jarek on their persons. In each, Ailliard claims he blackmailed them into leaving Imirath and implores Garrick to show mercy and grant them positions in the infantry to prove their loyalty,” he answers without emotion, which is what I need right now.
This pales in comparison to Ailliard’s betrayal, and if Cayden were to look at me with pity my anger would only worsen.
A discarded princess, Ailliard’s voice slams into my mind before I have the chance to shut it out. But I need to be more than a title. I need to be more than the other rulers of Ravaryn. The weight of the crown crushes most, but where they falter, I will fly.
“We can take them back to the castle for questioning if you prefer,” he offers while handing me the stack of pardons. “I was notified of their movements shortly after you left for flight training and alerted the dungeon guards to keep them separate, but it’s your decision how we proceed.”
I roll my lips together, contemplating his proposal. “We’d have to escort them through the streets of Verendus, alerting everyone to the treachery within my kingdom. I refuse to let spineless traitors make me look weak. Why didn’t they travel by sea to avoid our kingdom?”
“The emerald storms are traveling up the Dolent Sea. They probably thought their odds were better if they could face an opponent that they could kill rather than a sea storm.” An emerald storm warning is not something to regard lightly and not easy to predict.
The storms earned their name because it’s said once the sea turns green, your death is near.
You could be fishing on the calmest waters one moment and be pummeled by waves the size of mountains in the next.
I would’ve taken the same risk with traveling on foot, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be dumb enough to get caught.
Even if they made it to Imirath, they would have been thrown in the dungeon and tortured if they weren’t killed on the spot.
Stealing a princess from a castle isn’t a crime that’s forgiven or forgotten over time.
Garrick would have made an example of them the moment he had them in his grasp.
Part of me wants to let them cross the border to prove that, but I don’t have the patience.
I rip the pardons in half and drop them into the mud. “And Jarek? What’s his purpose?”
“He refused to speak to the soldiers, but it’s nothing I can’t handle if you require my skills.”
I smirk up at him. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“I hope you do.”
He rests a hand on the hilt of his blade as he turns away and escorts me closer to the prisoners.
Sorin and Venatrix shake the ground as they follow, and the other three circle the skies above like they’re searching for prey.
The captives at least have the good sense to tremble, so it appears they’re not entirely dense.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” I gesture to the dragons at my back.
“Y-yes, my queen,” Jarek stammers.
“Did you know dragons are also highly intelligent? Far more intelligent than most people, though that’s not really a compliment.
” I latch my fingers around Jarek’s chin and jerk his head up.
“Where is Lycus? Tell me now and I’ll grant him the mercy of a quick death.
Fail to inform me and I’ll make him beg for it once I find him. ”
“He’s not here,” Jarek states. “He did not betray you, nor did I.”
“Quiet,” Zander growls, but Jarek continues despite the order.
“He refused his pardon, apparently told Ailliard to burn it several years ago and to never speak of the matter again. They were kept under a loose floorboard in Ailliard’s room at your house. Lycus drew his sword against us as we left Aestilian but was wounded. I don’t know how he fares.”
I tighten my grip, bitterness and fear for Lycus swelling within me. I can only hope he made it to Nyrinn. She’s never needed magic to perform miracles with a needle and herbs. “And I suppose it’s a mere coincidence you’re traveling with traitors?”
I roughly release him, letting his head hang in shame as I glare at the other three. I wonder how many times they spoke of returning to Imirath over tables filled with food provided by me.
“In a time of war, allegiances are swayed,” Nessa begins. “Once we learned of your betrothal, we knew you would return to Aestilian to seek soldiers to fight for your cause, but we could never fight against King Garrick.”
“So you try to scurry through the kingdom like rats to get back to a king that doesn’t want you,” Finnian snarls, his face contorting in disgust as he steps up beside me with a hand on the hilt of his blade.
“You murdered Ailliard!” Zander cries out, voice shaking for his fallen friend.
“You’ll soon realize that’s how I solve many of my problems.”
He spits, but it lands short of my boot. Cayden is the first to unsheathe his sword, followed by the soldiers around me. “He was your family. Your flesh and blood. You murdered him!”
“What I did was necessary.” I place my hand on Cayden’s to keep him from ending the interrogation, and he moves the blade in front of me to form a steel barrier. “And there is no need to repeat yourself. I believe we all heard you the first time.”
I turn to Nessa and Esme next. It was only a few weeks ago that I spoke to Nessa about Aestilian and her and Esme’s daughter while we drank tea. “Did you abandon Moriko?”
Nessa sucks in a sharp breath. “She died of a fever. Nyrinn couldn’t save her.”
“My condolences.” Something in my chest twists painfully. Moriko was an innocent just starting out in life and was taken away unfairly soon.
Cayden takes over for me and addresses Jarek. “You never stated your purpose.”
“Ailliard entrusted me with Queen Elowen’s safety on several occasions and blatantly stated his disapproval of this union,” Jarek states with more confidence than one should possess on their knees.
A beat of confused silence passes before Cayden speaks. “And?”
“A queen deserves better than a demon,” he spits.
Esme chuckles under her breath. “We took him with us because he’s a good soldier, but we didn’t think his request would be granted. Ailliard promised Elowen to Jarek if she didn’t find a suitable match after coming to court.”
“Esme,” Jarek growls.
“He wanted to prove his worth in the war and negotiate her survival to marry her. Garrick has no other heirs and Jarek would agree to whatever Garrick’s terms were, even if it meant keeping Elowen confined to their chambers.
He wouldn’t shut up about it the entire time we rode here.
We would’ve taken a boat if it weren’t for the storms, and I’d have thrown him over the edge. ”
“Bitch,” Jarek snarls.
“We’re already dead,” she answers calmly. “We may be on different sides of a war, but she’s still Elowen. I’ll give her answers where I can.”
She’s still Elowen.
A sentence that should bring me comfort only turns my stomach. I’ve spent years beside these people, bled for them, fed them, fought for them, and even that wasn’t enough.
I wonder what it would feel like to be enough exactly as you are. Sometimes it feels like I could fight until I’m an inch away from death and still fall short even then.
Cayden tilts his head in my direction, and I nod. His blade shimmers in the rising sun as it strikes, cutting off Jarek’s plea as Cayden beheads him in one swift swipe. Blood splatters Zander’s face and the head thumps on the ground. I nudge it away when it comes close to my boot.
“I find you guilty of treason against the crown. I, Elowen Atarah, queen of Vareveth, queen of Aestilian, princess of Imirath, dragon queen, sentence you to die.” I’ve spent years of my life beside them.
Though I suppose it’s true that love and hatred walk a fine line, and the latter can slowly bleed into the former, poisoning it without someone realizing.
I step forward after ordering the soldiers standing behind the prisoners to move away and lower my voice so only they’re able to hear.
“You knew what Garrick was doing to my dragons when you left them behind. You watched me walk through life with five missing limbs and never once did you offer any information of the Imirath castle no matter how much I begged.”
“We thought it a fool’s errand.” Nessa’s voice shakes as Sorin’s head looms above mine.
“It appears the only fools are you.”
With nothing left to say, I turn my back on them, but Zander speaks before I get far, keeping his voice low as I did.
“Do you truly think you can build a future with a man who hates the blood that runs through your veins? Your father will always be his enemy, and when you have heirs, those children might look just like him. Go back to your father and do your duty, Princess.”
The plea isn’t coated with condescension, it’s genuine. His last gift to the Atarah line before he leaves this world. I clasp my hands together to keep him from seeing the tremor that travels through me. “The future shouldn’t concern you; you have no place in it.”
“Elowen, wait!” Esme cries.
But I don’t.
Neither do Sorin or Venatrix as their jaws unhinge and flames spill on either side of me.