Page 39 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)

Chapter Twenty-eight

Elowen

I step out of my boots beside the river that curves throughout the property, cringing when my bare foot hits the frosty ground. A small waterfall spills into a pool at the base of it before thinning out and continuing its path through the trees.

“Elowen,” Asena says, timidly speaking my name despite me ensuring her titles would only complicate matters unnecessarily. “Saskia told me she informed you of the concept of an anchor.”

“She did.”

“Due to the gods blessing your union, we believe Cayden to be your strongest option.”

I lift my brows while untying my cloak. “And if I don’t believe in the gods?”

“The tides flow for him as the flames blaze for you. You feel the pull between the two of you. Don’t deny it where your safety is concerned.” And quickly adds, “My queen.”

I laugh softly, my gaze flashing to Calithea when she flies overhead.

Even if I were to mount a dragon and fly over the border, their eyesight is much sharper than mine.

What looks like a speck to me is fully visible to them.

My presence would only endanger them because they’d have to fly closer to the ground for me to see what’s within the cages.

Cayden wordlessly kicks off the tree he was leaning against and begins disarming himself.

I’m sure Finnian would’ve been a successful anchor, but I don’t know enough about magic to ignore Asena’s advice.

The place Finnian holds in my heart is warm and bright like a summer’s day and being with him makes me feel like the child I never had the chance to be.

Finnian refreshes my soul, but Cayden calls to it.

There is something both unusual and familiar about my connection to Cayden.

I feel it in my bones when he’s near and wear his gaze like a gown.

We fall into each other so naturally, like a lush garden in full bloom where the flowers grow into and around one another.

I look to Finnian to apologize, but he shakes his head and holds a hand up. “I’m relieved I don’t have to freeze in that water, Ellie, and I thank the gods for their consideration of my comfort.”

I place my hands on my hips. “I’m not staying with you next time you drink too much at the tavern and vomit up the contents of your stomach.”

“That was one time.”

I give him a flat look.

“It was much more than one time,” he amends, pulling his cloak tighter around him as a gust of wind shakes the forest. The treetops sway and sprinkle us with snow.

I cross my arms over my chest, already freezing in my thin slip as Cayden stands beside me.

He nods only once, and it’s all the reassurance I need to face Asena and Ophir on the other side of the pool.

“You’ll both need to add a few droplets of blood into the pool,” Ophir instructs.

“It’s always a blood payment,” I mutter.

Saskia hands me my dragon dagger, and I rub my thumb over the design before pricking the tip of my finger, letting the red droplets disappear in the shallow depths.

Ice coats the surface of the rocks beside the falls, as well as several dotted along the shore and down the river.

Basilius appears when I summon him, circling above the towering evergreens.

He’s gentler than the others despite being the largest. He has two sides to him, and the switch flips effortlessly.

Basilius can go from ripping apart an enemy to whirling through frothy clouds with bloodstained claws in a matter of seconds.

Though the dragons listen to me, I don’t control them.

If Sorin or Venatrix were to fly over the border, I don’t trust them not to engage with the enemy.

The dragons suffered for years, and when the memories of their tortured cries in the night resurge, it’s like rubbing salt in a wound that’ll never heal.

Basilius’s lavender scales switch to black, camouflaging him against the night sky, and I send a loving stroke down the bond to him.

“What now?” Cayden asks.

“You must enter the pool with Elowen. Keep your hands on her as she floats in the water. It will give her a physical tether to her body,” Ophir says.

I feel as if I’ve stepped on a bed of nails rather than the smooth rocks that make up the riverbed.

My teeth clatter together no matter how hard I clench them, but I trudge into the water until we’re at the center and lie back.

Cayden places his arms under my thighs and back, keeping me as close to him as possible.

I call to Basilius through the bond, pulling on the strand within me that connects us.

“You must find a way to slow your heartbeat and let the magic overtake you. Let the water coax what lies within you to the surface,” Asena says, lighting a few candles and spreading them along the embankment. She hums a low song in her throat and Ophir glides his fingers through the water.

“How long does she have to be in here?” Cayden asks, our mixed discomfort making his tone harsher than usual…which is saying something. “Can I carry her out once the magic takes hold?”

“She can’t break her connection to the water, but we’ll make a fire once she mindwalks. You can guide her to the edge of the river, but she cannot leave it until she’s back in her body,” Asena answers.

Their voices grow fainter, and my body becomes numb to the cold. The needlelike sensations cease prodding every inch of my skin, and my ears stop throbbing. I lock my eyes on Basilius, watching his rhythmic circles as his lavender eyes meet mine.

It’s just us, sweetling. You have nothing to fear from me, I say through the bond.

The flames within my soul roar inside me, heating my skin and slowing my heartbeat. Basilius breathes comfort into our connection with every flap of his wings and every glance.

I press my head to Cayden’s chest to listen to his pulse and spread my fingers, letting the water flow through them, pretending they’re my thoughts being washed away until only the shell of me remains.

Basilius flies as if he’s nothing more than a feather. I imagine the freedom of what it would feel like to take to the skies at will, to the realm no mortal can claim because it’s ruled by the dragons.

Cayden gently strokes my hair. “You were born to ride dragons, now let yourself become one.”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The flames of the dragons anointed my existence. Through them, I am immortal. I am limitless. I am the might of the beasts no one can tame.

A crack snaps through me and all sound disappears.

I’m nothing more than a wisp of smoke rising through the air until I’m fire encased in flesh.

The scene before me is created entirely of lavender wisps.

A curved bridge stretches over a river, and I peek over the side as shades of gold, light blue, and silver are added to the current.

Our auras twine together like hundreds of stars have fallen from the purple sky but hover around me.

They stretch as far as I can see instead of crashing into the ground.

We’re nothing more than souls until I’m thrust into the forefront of his mind, watching the world through the eyes of a dragon.

Basilius turns toward the border, flapping his wings hard enough to take us above the clouds where no one will be able to see us. From this height, I’d never be able to see anything more than specks, especially at night, but for Basilius the world is a vivid landscape.

We soar over Ladislava—familiar sounds of songs, chants, and clattering steel rising from below—and continue onward. It all fades away as we cross over into Imirath. Something restless coils in Basilius, but I calm him with my presence, keeping a hold on his mind without hurting him.

“Stay high,” I command, though I’m not sure how. “They can’t know we’re here.”

Basilius doesn’t make a sound and slows his pace, decreasing our altitude in minuscule amounts as we stake out a cage.

At least fifteen Imirath soldiers stand guard around it, all with spears or swords in hand.

I don’t spot any others, but I suppose they’ll be spread out.

We continue monitoring from our vantage point, not wanting to risk landing within the territory.

Time slips away from me as Basilius cuts smooth circles through the wispy clouds, a feeling of pure contentedness encompassing me.

I sense a tug, making me feel like I’m late for something, but I shake it off as a spiked tail blasts through one of the tarps.

The silencing rune must’ve been rendered useless once the beast inside broke through the steel because a sharp shriek follows, as do claws raking down the walls of the prison.

Basilius is immediately alert, all senses homing in on the potential threat.

An Imirath soldier cries out as the tail curls around his neck, but his pained pleas die out quickly as his head is removed from his shoulders.

Soldiers rush forward with spears, shouting for aid as they slam the sharp tips into the scaled flesh to tame it, but the beast doesn’t react meekly.

It continues swinging its tail, sending soldiers flying through the air and puncturing their stomachs with the spiked end.

I’ve seen a tail like that, I realize. Wyverns.

A distant cousin of the dragon. I read about them in one of the beast books I’ve recently acquired, and seen their likeness drawn within the pages.

In most cases, they can’t blow fire. The spiked venomous tails are their main weapons against foes.

They’re smaller and not as fierce as a dragon, but something volatile churns in Basilius as we look down at the scene.

“Not yet,” I command. His temper continues mounting now that we’ve identified what we’ll face on the battlefield. “You’ll have your chance, but not today. We can’t face them alone.”

Basilius snarls, but there’s too much commotion on the ground for anyone to hear. He begrudgingly turns away, carrying us back to Vareveth when something pulls at the center of my chest again.

A beacon to follow to return home.