Page 15 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)
“I’m very hard to kill, El. Put it out of your mind for now.” He begins leading me through the market again. “But if you keep looking at me like that then I’ll be silent while you spend whatever you wish.”
I bite my lip, wrapping my hand around his arm and resting my head on his bicep. “All I have to do is smile and you’ll let me drain your accounts?”
“Breathing works just fine.”
I don’t bother hiding my laughter since so many eyes are on us.
Pushing ahead of him, I step toward a blue booth and accept a dish filled with sweet buns stuffed with savory pork before leading him over to the fountain at the center of the circle that the stone carvers have finished crafting.
Both staggering in height and intricately designed, it looks like five dragons taking flight around a set of crossed swords with a crescent moon at the top.
The fountain in the castle’s entrance hall that resembled the Dasterian oak was also replaced with a similar design.
Dark blue flags atop the sharp spires billow in the wind as my dragons fly around them, and Cayden dusts some snow off the stone before guiding me to take a seat.
He pulls me close, and I soak in his warmth while handing him the dish.
He chuckles. “Have you changed your mind already?”
“They’re for you.”
His brow is furrowed like my gesture perplexes him. “What?”
“You were in meetings all day.” I fold my hands in my lap after he accepts the food. “You forget to eat sometimes.” His fingers cease running along my arm, and he’s silent for so long that I force myself to look up at him. “I can get you something else if you don’t like it.”
“No.” He clears his throat, and his eyes soften as he drops them to the food. “This is perfect. Thank you.”
I relax against him, throwing my legs over his lap and resting my head on his shoulder.
The lack of sleep must be catching up to me because the steady beat of his heart makes my eyelids grow heavy.
We may sleep in the same bed, but it’s torturous.
We stay on opposite sides, and I don’t let myself succumb to exhaustion, not trusting myself to keep my hands off him in my unconscious state.
I’ve even taken to napping on Basilius’s back while flying.
“We’ll return to the castle after this,” he says.
I nod, trailing my fingers along the golden dragons circling the cuff of his sleeve.
He’s never cared for fanciful garb, dressing more like an assassin than a king, but it helps that one of our house colors is black.
He always looks well put together but will never be the type of man to wear obnoxious fabrics and tight pants after the favored fashion of the wealthy.
I prefer him this way, though. I don’t want him to change his appearance.
I love his scars, and the intensity of his eyes, and the messy waves that brush his forehead and the tops of his ears.
He looks like a dark dream took on a human form.
My eyes drift around the colorful tents and the people dressed in decadent coats as they browse.
Children smile at the enchanted objects, women walk arm in arm with their friends, and men trail behind their sweethearts with arms filled with purchases.
Snow continues falling, collecting on my lashes and the ice that surrounds the perimeter of the fountain.
I’m about to ask Cayden if we can stop for some mulled wine on our way back to the castle, but the hair rises on the back of my neck as my spine stiffens.
No. The food I ate earlier threatens to make a reappearance as I squeeze my eyes shut, but a blue pair I’d know anywhere burn behind my lids.
Ailliard is looking right at me with a hatred I never noticed until he betrayed me.
“It’s not him,” I whisper. “He’s dead. He’s dead. ”
“El?” Cayden frames my face. “What’s wrong?”
He rubs his thumbs along my cheeks and curses when I don’t answer.
Ice shatters after he removes one hand, and moments later, freezing fingers clutch the back of my neck.
“Open your eyes,” he demands, and I do, forcing myself to focus on the water dripping down my back instead of my panic. “Breathe.”
“Ailliard.” He rubs his thumb into my hair as I search the area again to spot the man.
My palms moisten, but all it makes me think of is Ailliard’s blood coating them as I tried to pull my knife free.
The man that set me off bears a remarkable resemblance to Ailliard, but it’s clearly not him.
I haven’t mourned him, haven’t wanted to, and I wish I could crush the small sliver within me that felt relief at the thought of him being alive. Death makes idealists of us all.
“I thought—”
I shake my head, realizing how ridiculous I sound. I killed him myself. I threw the knife that took him down and commanded Calithea to engulf him in flames. I knelt in the blood of the man who was the closest thing I had to a father. He’s gone.
I force hollow laughter to crawl up my throat. “Don’t mind me. The mind plays tricks on us when we’re sleep-deprived.”
Cayden’s green eyes sear my profile until I force myself to look at him. “You don’t have to play this game with me.”
I innocently shrug. “What game?”
“El.” The way he says my name…the softness…the understanding…. It sends another tremor through my hands.
“Please don’t,” I whisper.
A muscle flutters in his jaw and a dark look crosses his features when he realizes he won’t be able to breach my defenses tonight.
I don’t want to talk about Ailliard. I don’t want to think of him.
I don’t want him to have any power over me anymore, but sometimes it feels as if even death can’t retract the claws he dug into my mind.
Cayden remains silent, locking himself in yet another battle of wills in our ongoing war of stubbornness, but he doesn’t push me for now.
It’s neither the time nor the place, but the tension between us is like a kettle just about to start screaming over a fire.