Page 44 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)
“I wasn’t aware you were so privy to Vareveth’s needs.
” I pierce him with my eyes, urging him to shrink in his seat.
“I will have the Imirath throne and Garrick Atarah’s head, and I will not achieve either while sitting in a castle.
The next person to insinuate my place is on the ground or in the birthing bed will regret it.
Though I should thank you for your concern.
If any of you are truly worried about my dragons’ capabilities, I encourage you to face them yourselves and see how quickly steel and flesh melt. ”
“I do not doubt your capability, Your Highness,” he practically snarls, his cheeks taking on an ugly ruddiness. “It is merely known that the gentler sex is best kept within the house.”
“And yet you’ve expressed such bravery by leaving yours today.
I applaud you.” I stand from my chair, pressing my palms into the table in front of me, moving without the haste or anger he exudes.
“You’re welcome to try to take the crown off my head should you succumb to the stupidity coursing through your veins like a disease.
Draw your sword and see which of us walks away from the duel. ”
His eyes flash to all those in attendance other than his fellow lords. Hands rest on the hilts of swords, ready to slice him open should he make a move against me. “The other lords know where I am, and they will know who to blame if you kill me.”
“One of the wisest decisions I’ve made was killing someone who tried to control me.” I quirk a brow. “I’ve gotten quite good at it.”
“You have no idea what’s coming for you in this war,” Xantheus sneers.
“I’m prepared,” I calmly state, which only enrages him further.
“No, you’re not!” He shoves to his feet so quickly that the chair falls back and clatters on the ground. Cayden squeezes the back of my thigh in silent encouragement.
“I’ve been preparing to face Imirath my entire life, and a few ships from Thirwen won’t deter me.”
“A few?” He laughs incredulously, spit flying from his mouth as the vein in his forehead throbs. “You will face far more than a few.”
I remain silent, saying nothing as a smirk grows on my lips and Cayden slowly stands at my side. “How do you know that?”
Xantheus blinks, looking down at the floor before pinging his gaze between us. “Imirath’s alliance with Thirwen is public knowledge.”
“The magnitude of their aid is not.” Cayden rests his hand on my back. “Failing to report any knowledge you have regarding an enemy’s movements is treason.”
“I don’t have any knowledge.”
“You trade with several Thirwen nobles and write to them regularly.”
“Are you having me followed?” he growls. “I am loyal to Vareveth! I have always been loyal to Vareveth!”
“You’re loyal to your profit,” Cayden replies while reaching into his pocket to pull out the letter he traced in Xantheus’s office, watching as horror floods the man’s features as he shakes his head in disbelief.
“I granted you the courtesy of a warning, a privilege I don’t dole out regularly, and you have squandered it. ”
“No,” he mutters, scrambling sloppily toward the door to escape, but the castle guards cross their spears. “No! You stole from me! Nobody in my house would betray me. You’re nothing more than a fucking thief from the slums!”
“Better a thief from the slums than a lord with minutes left to live,” Cayden says as he gestures for the guards to return Xantheus to his place. He turns to me. “Aso es tesis tasuri nunti cytore vos?” Who is the man that threatened you?
“What is he saying?” Xantheus demands, the other two lords looking just as frightened.
Cayden is both unpredictable and ruthless.
He’s just as likely to stab someone through their back as he is while looking at them in the eyes.
Though they were all present during the banquet, it’s Lord Drystan’s voice I remember.
I smirk while answering Cayden in the ancient language, just to unnerve them even more. “Tesis sosta addi.” The small one.
“Por vos, mia sirantia,” Cayden says as he shoves his chair back and tucks his hands into his pockets while strolling around the table.
Por vos translates to for you, but much to my dismay, I still don’t know what sirantia means.
I’m sure I could ask Asena, but I want to figure it out on my own.
Whatever it is, he added my in front of it.
None of them dare to move. They’re hardly breathing as Cayden’s boots slowly thump against the floor. Whimpers escape from their sealed lips. I reclaim my seat, leaning back and propping my chin on my hand while I watch the show.
“Your servants are far more forthcoming when it comes to relaying treason.” He stops behind them and slowly unsheathes his sword, letting the steel sing until the room falls silent again.
And then he moves, striking as quickly as a viper as he fists Drystan’s blond hair and slams his head against the table, placing the pommel of his sword beneath his eye.
His scream rings through the air as Cayden yanks his head back up.
Blood drips from his eye socket, splattering against the table and mixing with his tears.
Xantheus and Caspian try to flee again but are restrained by the guards at the door as they plead and beg.
“Did you think there would be no retribution after you said you’d bend my woman over a table while your friends watched you defile her? ”
He tightens his hand in Drystan’s hair, making him scream louder. “Now they will watch as I demonstrate what happens to those who threaten my queen.”
He hits him hard enough between his shoulder blades for a crack to echo through the space, mingling with the flames popping in the hearth and inspiring the same warmth within me.
Drystan falls forward. His cheek presses against the table, entirely at Cayden’s mercy as he slowly shoves his sword between Drystan’s ribs.
The man thrashes and spits blood. Cayden’s face is cloaked in vengeance and without an ounce of pity as he looks down at the dead lord, his body in the same position he jested about putting me in.
He wipes his blade on Drystan’s expensive clothes before sheathing it and looking to the remaining two. “Seize them and attach a cage to General Braxton’s horse. We’ll be taking a ride together.”