Page 58 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)

Chapter Forty-two

Elowen

I remain standing by some miracle, even as my legs burn while trudging through the bloody sand.

The wards didn’t include the destroyed fort set on the water, and charred stones continue dropping into the waves as the walls crumble.

The world blurs along the edges of my spotty vision as the magic leaves my body, the fatigue hitting me so fiercely it’s as if I fell through the surface of a frozen lake, unable to move as I sink into the dark depths.

I wielded dragonfire.

My brain isn’t moving as fast as my body, and I don’t have the energy to theorize.

The soldiers remain kneeling as I return to Finnian and Ryder so they’ll be able to issue orders.

They rise from their knees, both sets of eyes full of questions I don’t know how to answer.

Every time I’ve experienced magic, it’s made me feel untouchable and invincible, but I can never hold on to it.

It always slips away, leaving me hollow and exhausted.

“I need healing supplies.” Venatrix returns to standing guard over Cayden’s body, and I bite the inside of my cheek when I take in all the blood and grime covering him.

Ryder waves someone over and hands me the satchel they’re carrying.

“Assemble the soldiers and prepare them to return to Vareveth. There’s no sense in leaving anyone behind.

The dragonfire destroyed the port enough to render it useless and their supplies are buried under the rubble.

Hang our banners from the ramparts. They won’t risk dropping the wards, so they’ll be forced to remember what happened today and fear the battles to come. ”

“We’ll be quick and will have Asena portal us to the inn. Sas will be going out of her mind by now and Cayden needs to get somewhere safe while his body recovers,” Ryder says. “What should we do with the enemy soldiers on our side of the wards?”

Something heavy weighs on my chest, but I keep my shoulders rigid, not wanting anyone to see me falter. “Give them the option of taking a blood oath. If they swear to fight for us, let them live, but execute them if they refuse. Imirath and Thirwen’s loss could be our gain.”

Ryder nods, a crease forming between his brows. “ How? ”

One word can hold so much weight depending on how it’s asked. His question doesn’t refer to the prisoners, it refers to everything else.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I’m going to talk to the mage who performed the ritual before I depart.”

“Be swift.”

“You too. I’ll order three dragons to remain until you’re safe.”

Ryder takes another look at Cayden and his throat bobs after he sucks in a sharp breath.

His guilt is so apparent, it radiates off him, but he’s stalking down the beach before I have the chance to say something.

Finnian squeezes my hand before following Ryder, and the blood crusting our skin creases, making me long for a bath. I hate the feeling of dried blood.

Remaining here puts me on edge, so I shove my concern aside for the time being and find Asena standing on the shore with the other mage.

The smoke wafting up to the sky is so thick it makes my throat raw.

Burning wood juts from the water like a sea of broken bones stretching as far back as I can see.

Asena notices my pursuit and closes the distance quickly. “Your Majesty, what you just did—” The curls she piled on top of her head sway as she shakes her head, staring at me with wide, awestruck eyes. “No mage has ever wielded dragonfire.”

“No mage has ever been bonded to five dragons,” I answer. It’s the only possible explanation I can think of. Even Asena herself said not to put limitations on the bounds of my abilities. “Can you introduce me to your friend?”

“Of course.” She reaches behind her to tug the woman forward. “This is Sage. She’s a soul mage who has dedicated her life to the Goddess of Souls. Her cult resides within the Etril Forest.”

A chill snakes up my spine when I think of the eerie woods Cayden and I traveled through while fleeing Imirath. The perfectly symmetrical trees…the silence aside from the whistling wind and branches hitting into one another.

Sage offers me a shy smile and a curtsy. “Your Majesty.”

“Thank you for what you did for me,” I say. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

“No payment to me is required. You survived because the gods willed it, and my life is dedicated to serving them.”

I clear my throat. “What did you mean when you said that Cayden and I are bound?”

She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and shoves her hands into her pockets.

Her robes shift, and I note the burn scars on the column of her throat.

“Before I performed the ceremony, my powers sensed a bond between you and King Cayden. I never would have performed it if it didn’t exist; there would have been no chance of survival.

It’s an invisible tether between you two that only the Goddess of Souls can create. ”

“Cayden and I are bonded?”

“Yes,” Sage states. “A soul tie. It weaves your fates together, makes you destined to cross paths, but how you feel about each other is entirely up to you. Some soul ties lead people to their enemies.”

I blink slowly as I absorb the information. I’ve always felt a pull to Cayden, but any mention of the gods having influence over our lives makes me want to rebel against that fact. “And the new markings?” I glance again at the swirling lines traveling up my arms.

“They are evidence of the bond. We refer to them as aura markings because their colors reflect your souls. As I said, a ritual of that magnitude can be performed only once. It alerts other soul mages that they won’t be able to tap into that magic should either of you be gravely injured again.”

I sway on my feet, and Asena shoots a hand forward to steady me. “You should leave, Your Majesty. You need to rest.”

“I’ll see you when I return to Vareveth,” I tell her, and she smiles in response. “And thank you, Sage. I am in your debt. If you ever change your mind about receiving payment, please don’t hesitate to find me.”

Her lips turn down. “It is not I who will collect the payment for the ritual, Your Highness.”

My smile pinches, but I manage to keep it on my face as I turn away.

Another wave of fatigue washes over me as I walk toward Venatrix.

She lifts Cayden more tenderly than I’ve seen her hold anything and sets him gently on Calithea, who bends as much as she can so I can climb onto her.

I weave the saddle straps around myself and Cayden before clipping them to my harness.

There’s no way I’ll be able to bear his weight, but I keep his reclined form pressed between my knees and the saddle horns.

Calithea is tuned in to my senses and knows this isn’t an ordinary flight.

I don’t think the dragons would take so calmly to someone else being on their back unless the situation was dire.

She climbs up a cliff a few yards away and spreads her wings for an even takeoff, slowly gaining altitude but never tipping up enough to jostle us.

Cayden’s wounds need to be bandaged. I slide the satchel off my shoulder and pull out a clean rag and waterskin, needing to clean his torso first. It’s always been easier for me to heal strangers—healing even a small scrape on a loved one riddles me with unwanted emotion.

Cayden sucks in a breath, groaning when I press the rag over the largest gash on his side.

His eyes blink open and focus on my face as best as they can.

I command Calithea to glide. It’ll slow us considerably, but I can’t stitch him unless she keeps us steady.

Ryder and Finnian will probably finish with the soldiers and portal to Avaloria, the oceanside town in Vareveth, before us.

There was no sense in us traveling back to the manor when we’d have to travel to the docks before first light, but part of me still wishes we were able to.

I thread the needle and get to work. “One day you’ll stop getting hurt to gain my attention.”

His lips quirk in a dopey smile I’ve never seen on him. He’s not fully conscious yet, but I know he’s fighting his way toward it. “It’s worked like a charm since the first night I kissed you, and I don’t plan on stopping.”

He falls asleep again and I finish stitching. Calithea gains speed every time I finish a gash, covering more distance while I thread the needle. Thankfully not all his wounds are that deep, and once the blood is cleared, I take a moment to admire his markings and trace them with my finger.

The trees fade away, and Avaloria takes their place.

It’s a small town within Vareveth made of curved roads and old stone bungalows along the coast. Ships are anchored in the distance and smaller boats bob along the docks with fishermen hauling in nets of their daily catches.

Calithea and Venatrix land in front of the inn.

Every quaint house along the street has wreaths made of colored sea glass and seashells.

It’s clear they’re homemade, which only adds to the charm, as do the weathered painted shutters in shades of various blues, greens, and corals.

I use the lull of the surf crashing against the shore to drown out the pained screams that surrounded me moments ago.

Our accommodations are set on the water, and I’m hoping we can still hear the waves through the closed windows.

I’d love to come back here in the summer, but I’m eager to get out of the cold.

Saskia bursts from the entrance with Finnian and Ryder hot on her heels. Ryder is still caked in blood and quickly overtakes Saskia in her pursuit. “What took you so long?”

I unhook the straps attaching us to the saddle and slide down. “I couldn’t stitch him if Calithea flew at full speed.”

“Cayden!” Saskia shouts.

“Not dead. Hate to disappoint.” Cayden sits up and mirrors my actions, using Calithea to steady himself and patting her scales. “Thank you for the ride, pretty lady.”

“Let me help you inside.” Ryder steps forward, but Cayden presses a hand to his chest to halt him as he pushes on without assistance.

He shouldn’t even be awake right now, let alone walking, and my temper rises at his stubbornness.

He shoves open the door made of green and blue sea glass within a shell-covered arch.

The innkeeper by the front desk screams and drops the stack of linens in her arms.

“I have that effect on people.” Cayden leans against one of the white pillars that support the ceiling. “Room?”

“U-up the stairs and to the right, Your Majesty. It’s our finest one.”

“Thank you,” I say, ducking under his arm. If anything, it’ll help him keep his balance. He doesn’t look at me, and the dopey smile is nowhere in sight. I know I did the right thing. I didn’t do anything he wouldn’t have done for me.