Page 49 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)

Chapter Thirty-six

Elowen

My dress shimmers and flows around me as Cayden leads us through the steps of our first dance.

He moves as he always does, practiced and controlled, and he lifts me off the ground so easily that I feel weightless.

Our hands lock in front of my face when the final note is struck, and he slowly lowers them to meet my gaze as couples flood the floor.

My heart pounds within my chest, not from the dance but from the intensity within his eyes and the dominance that has cloaked him since he slid the ring on my finger.

The power that thrummed inside me during the ceremony has faded, but the markings haven’t. Mine glisten in the lantern light, whereas Cayden’s absorb it. Quite like the blade we used to cut our palms, which is now sheathed on Cayden’s thigh.

“Elowen Veles,” he murmurs in a gravelly tone, one dimple deepening when his lips quirk up on one side. He drags his tongue along his lip as if he loves the taste of it.

“The title of your greatest accomplishment.”

“Damn right.”

“Who should we deal with first?” All lords and ladies of Vareveth are present with the full horde of their houses, as well as several who accompanied the royals from Urasos and Feynadra, but we have no reason to converse with them aside from a polite greeting.

After doing more digging, I’ve learned that for the past two years Prince Hale of Urasos has made most of the decisions for the kingdom.

I suppose he must find a balance between ruling in his father’s stead and remaining faithful to his wishes.

“Feynadra,” Cayden answers. “They don’t have any ties to either Imirath or Thirwen.”

I slide my arm through his, turning in the direction of the Feynadra party.

They’re gathered at the base of the platform our thrones sit on, created by a team of stonemasons under the guidance of Asena and Ophir.

A paneled window stretching behind them overlooks the snowy Seren Mountains.

Mine is chiseled from moonstone with stars carved into it, and five dragons cut from the same stone branch off the chair.

One takes flight above my head, and the other four are mirrored on either side.

Cayden’s is made of obsidian with golden swords crossing at the top and a crescent moon at the center.

They’re stunning on their own and made even more so by the two massive stone dragon heads mounted on either side, spilling water from their open mouths, lined with fangs, that collects in a pool beneath them.

A squire steps in front of the royals before we have the chance to introduce ourselves. “May I present King Lycidias Duskbane and Queen Nasha Duskbane of Feynadra.”

“I’m afraid we don’t bother with additional titles as you do,” King Lycidias says, and though he attempts to laugh at the end, the jab is clear.

“There is always time to acquire some,” Cayden replies in the same tone. “May I present my wife, Queen Elowen Veles.”

Nasha steps forward and threads her arm through her king’s. The train of her gown made of silver fur and gray velvet drags in her wake. She exudes a regality I’ve recognized in her sister. “We offer our sincerest congratulations on your union.”

“And we thank you for making the journey to attend,” I respond.

“It’s not every day a king conquers a kingdom on your southern border.

” Lycidias rests his chilling blue eyes on Cayden.

His white hair is streaked with gray, and his bone structure is as harsh as winter nights.

Nasha’s smile strains when looking at her husband from the corner of her eye, and the fabric in the crook of his arm ripples as she tightens her grip, perhaps in warning.

“It’s not every day a king’s decisions lead to his own demise,” Cayden flatly states, daring Lycidias to say something in favor of Eagor, but the cold king merely grins, seeming to appreciate Cayden’s retort.

“My sister sends her regrets for being unable to attend,” Nasha begins, thankfully changing the subject.

“However, she’s due to send invitations for her Winter Solstice Ball today and mentioned your name being on the list. With all the festivities I doubt you’ve had time to monitor your correspondence. ”

I tighten my grip on Cayden but keep the anticipation surging within me hidden.

She may have disregarded my previous letter, but an invitation to her kingdom must be a positive sign.

We’ll have to face the Thirwen fleet before we depart and weaken our enemy enough to delay a counterattack.

If we leave sooner, it could be detrimental.

I wonder if Nasha misses Galakin. It must be heartbreaking to leave a place you love knowing you’ll always long for it.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to attend, as long as tension in the south doesn’t spike.”

“Yes.” She offers me a curt nod. “Although we were thankful to be included in your day, we assumed there was an alternative reason for requesting our presence.”

“We will not send aid,” Lycidias cuts in.

“Feynadra is much smaller than Vareveth and will need every sword fighting for our land if you lose your war and King Garrick pushes north. While we acknowledge Queen Elowen is the heir to the Imirath throne—to deny her claim would discredit mine—we will not fight for it.”

I’ve never been happier for a man to open his mouth.

“I don’t recall asking for your aid,” Cayden says. “And did not plan to.”

Lycidias and Nasha exchange a glance. “If you don’t want anything from us, why have you asked us here?”

“To foster a relationship between our kingdoms, given we share a border.” I smile easily, feeling like a spider watching a fly get tangled in her web. Their reputation for neutrality precedes them. They played right into my hand.

Lycidias nods, the air of superiority slightly dissipating, but it’s Nasha who speaks next. “If what you say is true, all I ask is that you don’t turn your dragons north.”

I scan my eyes over the party they traveled with, noting the absence of her children.

She’s come here wanting something from me: a promise that I won’t conquer her kingdom and slaughter her heirs in the process.

I wonder if they realize how lucky they are to be loved by their mother, to have someone willing to stand between them and any threat.

“Do not intervene in my battles, and I will bring none to your door unless given a reason.”

“Then we have an understanding.” Lycidias dips his chin and removes himself from Nasha’s side before immersing himself in the company of his lords.

Her pained eyes track him, and I can’t help but pity her.

Royal marriages are often arranged and unfeeling.

Women are sold to the highest bidder to secure an alliance or further the agendas of men.

All it does is lead to a life of unhappiness.

I force myself to look away when Nasha returns to her ladies.

Cayden waves a servant over. “Did either of us receive a letter from Galakin today?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he responds, and the relief is so strong my knees weaken. “Queen Cordelia sent Her Majesty an invitation to the Winter Solstice Ball.”

“There was no response to my previous letter?” I ask.

“All we received was the invitation, Your Highness.”

“Thank you.” The servant bows and returns to his earlier position by the table filled with flutes of sparkling wine. “Both Queen Nasha and the servant said Cordelia spoke only of me.”

“Then I suppose I’ll be a happy surprise.

” Cayden leans against one of the pillars lining the room, wrapped in wisteria vines that are also draped across the ceiling alongside House Veles banners.

“I’m sure that’s something along the lines of what my father said when he learned of my conception.

” I laugh before I can stop myself but feel less guilty when Cayden follows along.

“I anticipate that Thirwen’s fleet won’t be far.

We’ll prepare to leave for Galakin after the battle, since we’ll be along the coast.”