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Page 14 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)

Chapter Ten

Elowen

Saskia and I loop our arms together to fend off the cold.

I’m tempted to pull the hood of my coat up for extra warmth, but Hyacinth took extra care in crafting my appearance.

The top half of my hair is pulled back, and tiny braids twist together to form a wreath at the back of my head.

The dark blue jewels laced throughout the strands match my coat.

It’s a similar silhouette to my white one, and a black sash embroidered with golden dragon scales cinches my waist.

Sweet and savory scents spill from the booths that line the circle at the base of the castle steps, hardly giving me enough time to distinguish one before entering a cloud of the next.

Basilius is perched at the top of the waterfall beside the castle, and I feel his lavender eyes tracking my every step as the other four circle above.

“Do you think not having Cayden beside me will hinder the image we’re trying to portray? ”

Saskia’s painted red lips part in a small smile. “His eyes have been drilling into your back since we stepped away. I’d say he’s playing his part flawlessly.”

We pause briefly by one of the stone firepits that reside at the center of the lane and soak in the warmth.

As if I’m pulled by some force unknown to me, I glance over my shoulder, and my gaze immediately collides with Cayden’s.

An intriguing, dark aura pumps off him as he rests one boot on the wall at his back and balances a smoke between his lips.

A black coat, made of a mixture of rich night-spun fabric and leather, hugs his broad shoulders, and I force myself to face forward and pull Saskia toward the closest distraction.

“My queen.” A man with round goggles that magnify his blue eyes stands within a red booth. His wispy white hair sticks out haphazardly and matches the apron he wears over his coat. “What a pleasure it is to see you in the market.”

Many of these people were forced to sell their wares in private under the reign of Eagor and Valia.

The magic infused in the trinkets is hardly harmful, mainly things to enhance daily life—gloves and muffs enchanted by fire magic to keep you warm, books with a simple spell cast upon them to keep your place, dresses and cloaks with hems that never get dirty, to name a few.

There are those who can wield the elements and those who have the lesser ability of enchanting objects.

Vareveth was once accepting of earth magic—which doesn’t surprise me considering the Dasterian sigil was an oak tree.

It was said the first Dasterian king could rival the God of Earth in his abilities.

Many have fled to Craigon, the capital of Urasos, and a few surrounding cities.

However, outlying villages have taken it upon themselves to persecute those with the ability to wield the earth.

They believe that possessing this magic is mocking the god himself, and most elemental mages keep their abilities hidden.

I set my basket on the counter and unlatch myself from Saskia, grasping one of the small vials with perfume that seems to flicker inside. “What’s this made of?”

“It’s a light floral scent infused with starfire to give it a hint of smokiness.”

I trail my finger down the bottle, unable to pull my gaze away.

I didn’t realize how sheltered I was in Aestilian, not only from the world but from knowledge.

I’ve been making up for lost time, because I realize now that Ailliard purposely kept me ignorant.

I trusted him to inform me of the world, and without access to a proper education or a library, I never doubted him.

True freedom comes from education, which is why so many rulers lock up books, ban or burn them.

Keeping them in the hands of the privileged and away from the masses.

The key to tyranny and control is to keep someone ignorant.

If they don’t know anything different, they’ll find comfort in what they know rather than fighting for something they could have.

“Can you wield starfire?” I ask.

“No, Your Highness, only the goddess herself can wield such an element. I have a very diluted supply considering she’s also the only one able to conjure it and has been asleep for centuries. It’s very hard to come by. Mine is just strong enough to add some shimmer to my scents.”

“And it won’t burn me?”

“Not at all.” He gestures for me to try it out. “It’ll feel warm, but no stronger than a summer breeze.”

I uncork the bottle, dotting my neck and wrists before lifting it to my nose. It smells like a bottled garden at the peak of spring, but I do note the smoky undertone. It’s subtle, but beautiful. “How much does it cost?”

“Consider it a gift for the queen.” He fists his apron as he turns to the only full-size glowing bottle on a platform.

He has a plethora of other perfumes, but it’s clear this one is both rare and expensive.

There’s a knot between his brows when he places it in my hand, and before he pulls away, I place my coin pouch in his palm.

Color rises in his cheeks as he stares down at it. “Oh, no, Your Majesty.”

“I trust that covers this?”

“It’s far too much. The king will call it theft.”

“The king will not say anything as long as I’m happy.” I add the perfume to my basket and slide it onto my arm. “Have a good night, sir.”

He continues staring down in disbelief, but even at a distance I note the tears welling in his eyes when he finally manages a response. “A-and you as well, Your Majesty.”

It wasn’t long ago when I was merely scraping by, desperate for money and not knowing if I’d have enough to feed myself or those in Aestilian.

The gold band on his finger and heart locket around his neck hinted toward him being married; maybe he even has a family.

I know I can’t help everyone, but if more people realized how far one act of kindness can go, we’d live in a much better world.

Saskia smiles at me again as she stops us at a booth filled with candles. “What?”

She shakes her head, holding a water lily scent to her nose. “You are a sweetheart, Elowen Atarah.”

I scoff, not offering a response as I stop her from reaching into her coin pouch and sign Cayden’s name on the bill instead, along with his Ladislava address. Saskia laughs as she drops her items into her basket and adds two to mine.

“Do you think I can make the vein in his neck pop if I spend enough money?” Cayden challenged me to come here, and he’s about to realize how much his smugness will cost him. After all, what’s more romantic than doting on your betrothed?

“I don’t know.” She purses her lips. “But I’m never against testing a theory.”

“I appreciate your support in my endeavors.”

My basket continues to fill—pastries, a new book, a golden ring shaped like a dragon curling around my finger, hair chains and jewels, spices I’d like to use while baking…

and oils. The snow isn’t what makes me shiver when I think of the red, raised skin on Cayden’s back.

He mentioned that his shoulder didn’t heal correctly, and I wonder if the lash marks also ache.

No matter how much he hurt me, if there is something I can do to alleviate his pain, I’ll do it.

We pass through a series of booths each selling specific crystals, candles, and carvings to decorate limbs or altars dedicated to the ten sleeping gods.

Many ladies huddle together while deciding on which pink amethyst necklace or bracelet dedicated to the Goddess of Love, Marriage, and Fertility complements them.

A more antsy crowd gathers around the table dedicated to the Goddess of Souls, who I’ve learned also presided over mercy and destiny, and I can practically feel their anxiety and desperation as they grasp lapis lazuli tokens.

Swords with pommels encrusted in bloodstone are swung as people gather around the God of War and Strategy’s booth, but the Goddess of Grief and Sorrow’s is overlooked, the tourmaline towers remaining untouched within the gray drapes.

“What’d you buy, love?” Cayden asks as I approach, pulling the smoke from his lips and grinding it into the cobblestones before withdrawing a tin of mint leaves from his pocket.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“It’s not healthy for you to breathe it in.”

“Then why were you smoking?”

“You told me I have to be nicer.” He juts his chin to where Ryder and Finnian are giggling beside him, lost in their own conversation. “I needed something to do with my mouth so I didn’t insult them.”

I hide my smile behind my hand and respond to his earlier inquiry, “I bought copious amounts of alcohol to get me through this betrothal.”

“Cheers to that.” He transfers the heavy basket to his hand. “Do you need more money?”

“I thought of a rather simple solution once I ran out.” I glide closer and stare up at him like a besotted betrothed. “I signed your name to all my bills.”

“You could’ve signed yours,” he says, unfazed by what I’ve just revealed.

“I don’t have any accounts here.” I don’t have any accounts at all.

Ailliard controlled my money. I kept a small tin under my bed in case of emergencies after he didn’t loan me anything when Finnian needed medicine, but whatever I earned went into his pocket.

He told me it was used for the people of Aestilian, but I don’t know what to believe anymore.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he spent it on himself.

“ We do.” He pushes off the wall, dropping his face closer to mine.

“I added you to all of mine.” My mind feels as if it’s trudging through thick syrup as I process his words.

“I’m not changing it so don’t bother arguing.

When we ride to war, I need to make sure you’re taken care of if something happens to me. ”

I dryly swallow. Images of Cayden being captured or killed dance along to a morbid ballad within my thoughts. “That’s not—You don’t have—”