Page 4 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)
We travel through winding streets bordered by quaint shops, cafés, and several icy rivers that cut through the kingdom.
Lantern posts that were once fashioned to look like twisting tree limbs now depict dragons spitting fire on either side of the golden pole.
Finnian rests his head on my shoulder and closes his eyes as the steady trot of the horses and his full stomach lull him to sleep.
I pretend not to notice Saskia analyzing me across the carriage as we cross over an arched bridge that takes us to the circle in front of the castle, and the sound of picks slamming into stone stirs Finnian.
I peek out of the window to see what the artists are working on, but it’s too early in their process to tell.
It must be something Cayden commissioned.
“I’ll keep Braxton with me, but you should rest,” I tell him.
“Are you sure?” Finnian asks through a yawn.
“Cayden requested her presence tonight, so I imagine he’ll find her soon,” Saskia says.
My heart lurches in my chest, and I tighten my grip on the bench beneath me. “Go,” I urge him with an ease I don’t feel.
He nods while wrapping an arm around my shoulders before stepping out of the carriage and offering Saskia his hand. She pauses to look at me. “I’m here if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Sas.” I keep the smile on my face until the door shuts, letting it melt once I’m alone and the carriage begins moving again.
If only it were as easy to fool myself. I keep the curtains drawn so I’m able to admire the forest that stretches between Verendus and Ladislava, watching a herd of deer drink from a half-frozen stream before my dragons’ shadows overtake them and they run for shelter.
We cross into Ladislava, and I sink back from the window until the carriage turns onto a street with a sign that reads Healer’s Row.
Several stone cottages with warm light pouring from them capture my attention and make me think of Nyrinn.
I wonder if she’s heard the news of Ailliard’s treachery by now.
I listen as Braxton’s horse stops behind the carriage, and his boots slosh through the snow as he approaches.
“My Queen,” he says while opening the door and offering me a hand down.
“Thank you, general.” The short iron gate squeaks as he unlatches it and follows me up the path leading to the cottage that matches the address Cayden gave me. “Would you like to come inside?”
“No, thank you, Your Majesty. I’ll stand guard on your porch.” He gestures to the cast-iron chimney nestled into the corner. “I’ll make a fire and be more content here than I’d be at the border watching over soldiers as if they’re children.”
“I’ll leave it unlocked should you change your mind.”
He nods as I twist the handle and let myself in, pressing my back to the door and letting out a sigh of relief at the silence.
Quickly unfastening the sash around my waist, I slide the coat off my shoulders and caress the throbbing bruises on my ribs.
My eyes squeeze shut, and I press my lips together to keep all sounds of pain trapped within.
Cayden must’ve just been here because a fire with fresh logs burns in the hearth.
Aside from that, I can feel his presence like a soul with unfinished business lingering in a graveyard.
I can’t help but cross the room and crack open the first door, which leads to a small storage closet, and the second, which leads to a washroom.
This is what I asked for.
Space is what I need to sort out my mind.
It’s what has always helped me in the past.
I jump and cover my mouth with my hands when a loud bang on the roof makes several jars lining the shelves rattle, and I’d bet all my money that it’s Sorin perched up there. Sometimes I think he believes himself to be as small as he was when he perched on my shoulder.
Dark wood beams line the ceiling and walls, with pale yellow wallpaper between them.
There’s a long desk with empty vials for tonics, a blank book and quill, and a mortar and pestle set in front of the herb-filled jars Sorin almost sent to their doom.
A small couch and chair that look as soft as clouds rest close to the stone fireplace, with a table topped with a few books and a set of tea that I realize is still warm when I press my hand against the porcelain.
My heart is in my throat as I sink onto the couch and pluck the letter off the tea tray. The ink on it is still wet and I smudge Cayden’s name with my finger.
Angel,
Despite the cottage being located on Healer’s Row, you don’t need to open your doors to anyone until you’re ready.
You can use this place as an escape if you don’t wish to go to the castle or Veles Manor.
I’ve compiled some books on dragons I believe you’ll find interesting and brought your current read from the castle.
Enjoy the quiet. I’ll be seeing you later.
Always yours,
Cayden
I lie down and curl my legs on the couch as I clutch the letter to my chest and stare into the flames.
The scent of lavender, pine, and rosemary calms me, and with only myself as company, I drop the facade.
Sometimes I pretend to be something I’m not for so long I think I’ll be able to become that version of myself, but no matter how much I’ve tried, I can’t simply force myself to be fine.
I don’t want to hurt, but I do, and I hate that I do.
Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning but I don’t know where the water is coming from, and I don’t know how to make it stop.