Page 30 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)
Chapter Twenty-one
Elowen
Ocean spray dots my cheeks as another towering wave crashes into the black cliffs beneath Delmira’s talons. Moonlight dances on the ocean’s unruly surface, and my dragons fly among the waves, dragging their claws through the frothy crests before twirling beneath the stars.
We’ve flown so far that I don’t even know if I’m still in Vareveth or if I’ve ventured into Imirath, and yet I feel no different.
There once was a time that the mere thought of Imirath would send me into a downward spiral.
I still don’t think of it with happiness or ease, but traveling to Zinambra softened something within me.
I close my eyes, picturing myself sitting in a café beside one of the canals as the summer sun shines.
My dragons love being close to water, and I think they’d love being in a city with so much of it.
Cayden spent some of his childhood there, and I wonder if he misses it at all.
I suppose I never had the chance to love it, or to take pride in the kingdom where I was born.
The people are not my enemies, only those who had a hand in the torture my dragons and I underwent.
Garrick has attempted to kill me on numerous occasions.
I don’t even remember them all. There is nothing more important to him than his crown, so much so that he abused his only daughter because of a prophecy.
His new wife may give him a son, but no matter how many children she gives him, I will not let him erase me.
I will not let him take more from me than he already has.
Imirath is my birthright. He can make plans for the future of it, but so can I, because the throne is mine.
Beyond the sandy shore, trees stretch for miles and miles, and the same snowy mountain range I see through the windows in my bedchamber pierces the sky.
This could all be mine. I don’t want to be the damnation of Imirath, but I never thought I could be its salvation.
If I were to fly my dragons above their kingdom and burn it to the ground, I’d be no better than my father.
Orphans would regard me as Cayden regards Garrick, a tyrant who killed their parent and made them brave the cruel world before they were ready.
I’m now the queen of Vareveth, betrothed to its king, and I want Garrick to understand the consequences of my rise to power. It means the downfall of his.
Delmira’s wings flap impatiently, most likely sensing my change in emotion through the bond, and I click my tongue.
Wind howls in my ears and slices at my cheeks as she dives off the cliff, veering to the left to fly just above the surface.
My eyes slip shut as I command her to take me home, letting the sky embrace me like an old friend despite the biting temperature.
Fear and tragedy shape us just as much as love and happiness do, whether we wish them to or not.
They force us to become wary and jaded toward a world we once viewed with innocent eyes.
The world is beautiful. It’s the people who inhabit it who make it unbearable at times.
Finding the light in the dark is something I’ve done for years, looking for the silver lining no matter how minuscule.
Delmira lands, but before I open my eyes, the smell alone gives away that we’re not at the castle.
I don’t recognize this part of Verendus.
It’s darker, cramped, and reeks of booze, garbage, and things I’d rather not identify.
The sound of glass bottles breaking echoes throughout the curved streets, as do drunken slurring and unintelligible shouts.
“Delmira, my darling girl, have you lost your navigational skills? Perhaps your sanity?” Her blue scales that are as light as a summer day have shifted to black.
It’s probably the only reason people didn’t scream as she dipped from the sky, but it’s only a matter of time before someone spots her in the shadowed alley. “Home. Take me home.”
She huffs impatiently and arches her back, causing my saddle straps to strain as I’m briefly thrust into the air. “Delmira! I will not give you any fresh meat—only carrots.”
She bucks again, much more forcefully, and lowers her wing to the ground so I’m able to climb off. I roll my eyes and unhook myself, sliding down until my boots smack against the cobblestones.
“Just so you know, I’m not dressed for this.
” I gesture toward my outfit. It’s like what I wore to Aestilian, made of dark blue fabric but embellished with a mixture of white and light blue beading, and trimmed in white fur to match my cloak.
It flows behind my calves like a dress while still granting me access to my knife-clad legs covered in black pants to match my boots and waist belt.
Sighing, I yank up my hood and assess my surroundings, pointing toward a puddle a rat scurries through. “Is that my new bathing chamber? You really have an eye for decadence, Delly.”
She stomps her feet and nudges me toward the back entrance of the building, and, accepting the task my pushy dragon is forcing upon me, I reach for the lockpicks in my boot.
I hum to myself while slipping them inside the keyhole, utilizing the technique Cayden showed me.
My breath puffs in front of my lips as I try to turn the picks but meet resistance each time.
Delmira huffs again and shoves me with her snout before sinking her fangs into the wood, biting out a huge chunk, and swallowing—doorknob included. The creak sounds more like a scream as the half-eaten door swings open, making me cringe.
“Subtle…and highly nutritional.”
I pull one of my dragon daggers from the sheath on my thigh and hook a black mask over my ears while entering the dark stairwell.
The door swings open again as I try to close it, but thankfully Delmira didn’t eat the deadbolt, so I slide that in place and disregard the fact that more than half the wood is missing. It’s someone else’s problem.
She flies away as noise pulses against the bottom of my boots, so I turn in that direction to seek out the source.
I can’t see the bottom of the stairs through the darkness, but I keep my hand on the wall to steady my footing.
A sliver of light bleeds into the opaque shadows along the floor, and I continue sliding my hand along the smooth wood.
My eyes adjust given the meager light, and I wrap my fingers around a lever, yanking it up to pry open the hidden door.
The energy of the room swallows me like an oncoming wave I have no hope of fleeing.
The mixed scents of blood and sweat hang heavy in the air, accompanied by smoke that casts a haze over the basement and rises to the cracked wooden beams above.
Nobody notices me as I close the door behind me; they keep their focus entirely on the two men pounding their fists into each other in a single raised ring.
I step farther into the room, and my boots stick to the floor in what I hope is spilled ale. If I’m wrong, I don’t want to know.
“I was wondering when you’d find your way here.” A hand wraps around my wrist, and I jut the tip of my knife between the person’s ribs. “Do me a favor, sunshine, and don’t let him see you pointing that thing at me. I fear he’ll throw me into the ring, and I quite like my face as it is.”
I lift my gaze, staring into an unfamiliar pair of blue eyes shadowed by the brim of a cap. The man is also wearing a mask, which muffles his voice, but it’s so…familiar. I retract the knife. “Ryder?”
He lifts a finger to his mouth. “No names. Why are you here? Did something happen?”
A tugging sensation sends my gaze back to the ring, and my shoulders stiffen further when I realize it’s not simply two fighters in there…
one of them is Cayden. This must be the business he owns.
The tonic he told me about makes him almost unrecognizable at first glance.
His hair and most of his face are covered, but he’s still just as tall and muscular.
His skin is free of the scars and ink I’ve become familiar with, the markings that make him the man I know him to be.
Home.
Delmira took me home.
“No, everything is fine.”
The opponent slams his fist into Cayden’s ribs, and I suck in a breath as if I’m the one who’s taking the hit.
He easily could have dodged it. I’ve seen him take on several soldiers at once and come out without a scratch.
Cayden dodges the next hit, but leaves his bad shoulder open, letting his opponent take advantage of the vulnerability.
“Why is he doing this?” Blood beads under my nails from where I dig them into my palms. “You know he could easily beat this man.”
“He could easily beat anyone who steps into that ring.” Ryder wraps his arm around my torso to keep me from fighting my way to the ring.
“You both have made enough money.”
“It’s not only about the money anymore,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
Ryder shakes his head while turning back to Cayden.
“He could’ve stopped fighting once he became commander.
I even brought up the possibility of selling this place to protect him from those who would pry into his past when he ascended in rank, but violence is how he copes.
Cayden is always in pain and he’s not the type to talk about whatever is happening in his head. ”
I cringe when Cayden takes another hit to his ribs. “But why does he take so many hits?”
“Coping isn’t always pretty.” He jostles me a bit in a brotherly way, pulling me closer into his side as the crowd becomes rowdier.
“He’s fine. He’s much better since he met you.
He’ll probably love that you’re watching once he realizes so take a breath and let him make a few more syndrils to pay for the ring he’s going to put on your finger. ”