Page 57 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)

Finnian finds us, his eyes sticking to Cayden as he remains rooted in place.

I think it’s strange for all of us to see Cayden like this; out of all of us he’s the one who seems unbreakable.

Asena and the woman delve into a heated discussion, but my heart is pounding too fiercely to absorb more than every other word.

Please don’t take him. Please don’t take him. Please don’t take him.

“Let me see those pretty eyes, sirantia.” Cayden reaches a hand up to cradle my face. “The marriage clause is fulfilled. Nobody has the right to challenge your claim to the Vareveth throne, even if I’m not ruling beside you.”

Finnian kneels beside me, but doesn’t reach out, just lets me know he’s here for whatever I need as I shake my head. “Stop talking.”

“That word. It means—”

“No.”

“ Starlight. ”

I suck in a sharp breath.

“ Sirse is star, and veantia is light . I call you that not only because you love the stars, but because you guided me to a home I didn’t know existed, and shone like a beacon through the darkness that’s plagued me for years.

I would relive every moment of my life, all the pain and suffering, knowing it would lead me to you.

I don’t belong to death, I’m yours, and I will find you in every life. ”

“Don’t you dare say goodbye to me. Don’t you dare break your promise to me.” The pain piercing my heart is unfathomable. If Cayden is taken from me, there is not a ward strong enough that will keep me from getting into Imirath.

He tightens his fingers in my hair. “Being married to you for even a day has brought me more happiness than any bastard like me deserves.”

Tears trail down my cheeks. “I want more.”

“It was worth it, El. All of it. Never forget that.”

I look to the woman again. “What can you do? I’ll give you anything. I’ll do anything.”

“There is a ritual that can be done only once, ” the mage says. “But I cannot stress enough the danger of it, and also the pain you will experience.”

“I don’t care.”

“Elowen, no,” Cayden commands, but I ignore him. This is my choice. All I need is a chance. One minuscule shred of faith, and I’ll hang on to it like a lifeline.

“Slice both of your palms open, his as well. We’ll need to tap into the godly magic within the markings. The magic will pull some of the toxins from his blood and put it into yours, and you’ll have to fight through the poison together. He’ll feel better, but you’ll feel…”

I’m already slicing open my palms before she finishes and move on to Cayden’s despite him trying to rip his hand from my grip. The poison has made him too weak to fight me, and he especially can’t escape the hold Ryder has on his shoulders.

“Let me do this. He’s my brother,” Ryder pleads. “Don’t make her take this pain.”

“You may be bound, but your souls are not,” the mage responds. “The only reason a ritual like this can work is because of who they are to each other, but the queen could still die if the poison is too strong for her.”

“Do it.” I ignore her strange wording, just wanting to get this done. She begins muttering prayers in Ravarian to the God of Death, Goddess of Life, and Goddess of Souls.

“Get her away from me,” Cayden demands, his glassy eyes branding Finnian. “If she dies, it’ll be on your conscience.”

“Shut up,” I command, and Cayden turns his attention back on me.

The skin on my palm already burns from his blood as he tries to pull away, but I know this is only the beginning. “Don’t risk yourself for me. Let me go, my love. My body can fight against this.”

My hands start shaking but not from the pain. “Don’t ask me to do something you would never do. You’ve promised to die beside me many times; now I’m promising to do the same.”

“Elowen,” he slurs, his blinks slowing as the mage finishes her prayer, and I lean down to press my lips to his as he murmurs my name one final time before falling unconscious. “My Elowen.” His pulse still beats, but it’s weak.

Golden wisps surround where Cayden and I are joined, creating an unbreakable barrier as I watch his chest rise and fall unevenly. I keep our fingers locked tight just in case, not wanting to take any chances with breaking the connection.

“There’s no taking back your choice once the poison enters your blood, Your Highness. You will be cheating death, and there is always a price to pay,” the mage says. “This is my final warning.”

Whatever the price is won’t compare to losing Cayden.

I nod, just once, and pain like I’ve never experienced sinks its claws into me.

It’s like walking through fire. Having a thousand knives piercing my skin at once.

It’s like my flesh is slowly being peeled off my bones.

I clench my teeth and drop my head, not wanting anyone to see the agony this is causing me.

I will not die here.

I will not let Cayden die here.

I choke on the copper taste in my mouth.

My whole body is shaking like there’s an earthquake within me.

Red swirls begin crawling up my arms like the poison is burning me from the inside and trying to force its way out.

More red splatters on my arms, running down my cheeks, and I realize I’m crying tears of blood.

My chest is heaving, my throat is burning like the air itself is poison.

I throw my head back and scream, no longer able to keep the pain contained.

Finnian wraps an arm around me to keep me upright as I’m burned alive with no fire in sight.

Sweat drips down my back and he cuts off my sleeves to help cool me down.

My remaining dragons land in the grass around us, Sorin coming close to nudge my leg with his snout, and the other three dip their heads and close their eyes.

Imirath will take nothing more from me.

I am made of fire, and nothing will burn me.

Magic sings in my blood, and I command it to consume the poison instead of my skin. I turn it on the foreign substance coursing through me like a blade. I build a dam against the pain and force it to become power.

I open my eyes and watch the red swirling marks that stop just above my elbows become lavender, pale blue, silver, and gold.

They swirl together like vines and extend to where my gold markings end.

The same swirling pattern is reflected on Cayden, but he’s marked in black and one streak of dark blue.

His markings travel up the ribs on his right side but leave his stomach bare, swirl across his chest, halfway up his throat, and down his arm.

The golden wisps fade along with the pain, and I can finally take a breath without it feeling like needles are in my lungs.

When they’re fully gone, I collapse on Cayden’s chest, listening to the faint sound of his heartbeat that’s become my favorite song.

Our hands are healed and though the wounds on his chest aren’t, they’ve stopped bleeding.

I only let go when I know for sure that Cayden will be all right.

I can clean his wounds later. All that matters is the poison is gone.

The mage is looking between us and our markings like she just witnessed a miracle. “I’ve never seen such markings.”

I take the waterskin Finnian offers me as he brushes my hair back from my sweaty forehead and swish it around my mouth to spit out the blood. “This has never happened when you’ve done the ritual before?”

“No one has ever survived it,” she responds, glancing between Cayden and me like we’re a puzzle in desperate need of solving, but I don’t have time for her curiosity.

Whatever magic coursed through me during the ritual doesn’t dissolve, it grows stronger, pressing on my skin like it needs to be shed. “Your eyes …”

Finnian grasps my chin, and his lips part in surprise. “They’re swirling. It’s like they’re molten gold.”

Rage courses through me like a drug and I lose myself in the high as I get to my feet, still covered in blood and ash from the battle.

Vareveth soldiers who witnessed the ritual are kneeling between the corpses in the sand surrounding us; even some soldiers from Thirwen and Imirath follow their actions.

“Where is the mage who created the bomb?” I demand, walking toward the wards. “Bring me Nykeem!”

I stop a few inches away from the glowing wall as the soldiers on the other side begin parting.

“I have refrained from burning your kingdom to the ground, but my mercy goes only so far,” I begin, my voice raspy and raw from screaming. “Zayèra.”

All around me, my dragons’ fire blazes, colliding with the wards as I watch who must be Nykeem breach the crowd and struggle to combat them.

His black hair is cropped just below his chin, and his armor is without a speck of blood.

It’s clear he didn’t take part in the battle.

Other mages from Thirwen join Nykeem, wide-eyed as they watch me.

My smile is all bloodstained teeth as I glare at the man, pointing right at him so he knows what’s coming for him.

Death.

“You tell Garrick that his nightmare has returned with a demon at her side.”

Several Imirath soldiers behind the wards drop to their knees, and chaos quickly ensues as those loyal to Garrick spot them. Fights break out, soldiers push into the mages trying to hold the wards, and I laugh.

“Cower behind your wards all you want, but there will come a day when you will not be able to run, and there will be nobody to protect you when you’re slaughtered by either myself or my king who you failed to kill.”

Another wave of power rushes through me, and I clench my jaw as I thrust my hands out on either side of me, staring into the dragonfire as I pull it toward me. Wield it. A mixture of all my dragons’ flames flickers in my hands and snakes up my arms in circles, answering tome.

I become the flames. Giving in to my power and owning it so nobody can take it from me.

More beyond the wards drop to their knees as I open the bond in my chest, commanding the fire as I command my dragons, and then I join them, shooting fire into the wards as the mages’ struggles worsen.

The flames transform into talons at the tips of my fingers, one color for each dragon on both hands.

I begin to pry the ward apart like wet clay, tearing strips out of it as the mages’ worried cries flood my ears.

I sink my claws into it, thinking about ripping into them.

Their hearts could beat in my palms after I tear them from their chests and shove them down their throats.

Not yet, I tell myself.

The wards don’t only keep us from getting in, they also keep them from getting out until they’re down. We arranged to leave for Galakin tomorrow morning once we heard of Thirwen’s movements, and they’ve just sealed themselves within Imirath.

I command the dragons to stop, but they stay close. Sorin and Venatrix hover above, Basilius protects my back, and Delmira and Calithea stand on either side of me.

“You will never be safe again. I’ll always be lurking in the shadows with my blades drawn and flames ready.”

The flames curl up my arms, and in my reflection, I see them form a crown around my head. I slowly release my hold on the power, watching the talons fade away but forcing the crown to remain as I stand my ground with my dragons and face our enemy.

“I am Elowen Veles, and I’m coming for my throne.”