Page 61 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)

Chapter Forty-five

Elowen

Delmira spirals and slips down from the clouds, dragging her claws through the glittering sea beside the ship.

Sailing has provided me with an excuse to slip away at all hours of the day to fly.

I spend more time on dragonback than I do aboard the vessel.

Part of the reason for that is how strange Cayden has been the past few days, but I don’t need much convincing before mounting one of my fiery beasts.

He’s not avoiding me exactly. He’s never too far, and we share a cabin on board, but he’s noticeably quiet.

Volatile. Like a dormant volcano or a storm churning on the horizon.

I can tell he’s working through something within his mind, and I want to grant him the same patience he’s given me, but I feel as if I’m tiptoeing along the edge of a cliff.

I still haven’t asked Cayden about the sheet music in his desk, but given how closed off he’s been, I don’t think it’s the time to admit I snooped through his belongings.

Delmira cuts above Sorin, camouflaging herself within the sky to ambush him, but the menace himself is never one to turn down a challenge.

He roars when he notices her, locking claws with her as they tumble and twist toward the water below.

I laugh as butterflies erupt in my stomach, and they separate only inches from the surface.

They fly in a wide arc and nuzzle their snouts once they meet in the middle, much calmer than before.

I blink the dizziness away as Delmira evens out, keeping pace with the ship as I pull a book from the satchel I threw over my shoulder and lie on my stomach.

I trace the gold-foiled mermaid on the cover as it shimmers before diving into the story.

The gloves covering my hands make it a bit hard to flip the pages, but the weather is slowly starting to warm as we get farther into our journey.

The first two days were nothing but rain.

I still managed to fly above the clouds to avoid the storm but also spent time indoors playing drinking games with Finnian and Ryder while Cayden begrudgingly played the rickety and out-of-tune piano for Saskia and me to swing each other around the tiny cabin.

I repeat the same actions the next day but need only a sweater, and by the sixth day into our journey, I’m wearing a light pink gown made of flowy chiffon with cutouts along the sides and drooping fabric that leaves my arms bare but cuffs around my wrists.

I trace one of the lavender lines swirling around my arm as I sun myself on Sorin’s scales.

The sky is painted in shades of fire as its last rays burn the day away.

If I could have dinner up here, I would, but considering I packed both breakfast and lunch along with several snacks, I suppose it’s best to show my face at some point.

I command Sorin to drop me off on deck, but he does the opposite and increases his altitude. “Sorin.” I draw out his name like I’m scolding a guilty child, and he huffs before complying. “Goodnight, my sweet boy.”

I slide down his extended wing and my slipper-clad feet smack into the deck as I find my balance. My eyes are on the sky when I hear him. “You’re avoiding me.”

Cayden is leaning against the railing beside the bow, wearing a white linen shirt that billows in the wind.

The arrowhead necklace he’s never taken off rests within the shirt’s deep V neckline, and the markings swirling along his muscles are visible through the semi-translucent fabric.

His loose black pants are tucked into boots, the same style he’s worn every day since I met him, and a bandanna holds his hair back from his face. The sea suits him.

“Have you ever thought that perhaps I’m busy?”

“In the middle of the ocean?” he kicks off the wood, his heavy steps eating the distance between us. “You’ve read three books and take two out of three meals in the sky, and you’re a terrible actress because you giggle into your pillow while you pretend to be asleep.”

“I am a phenomenal actress.” I flick my curls over my shoulder and cock a hip. “And it’s frowned upon to stalk people.”

He crosses his arms. “You’re my wife.”

“Congratulations, that was almost an intelligent observation.” He tucks his tongue into the side of his cheek to keep from laughing. “Is there something in particular you’ve sought me out for or were you just craving the pleasure of my presence?”

“More like the punishment.”

I shove him in his chest, which vibrates with his chuckle, and turn in the direction of the dining cabin. His eyes rest heavily on my back with every step, and I know each second ticking by is bringing us closer to an inevitable conversation.

After a tense dinner, and an even tenser night, I spring out of bed.

Though I know my dragons want me to ride them, I stay on the ship and perch on a barrel while I sip chilled lemonade and stubbornly stare at Cayden, who isn’t shy about meeting my eyes across the deck.

It’s another sweltering day beneath the sun, and Finnian is hiding in the shade of the sails as he rubs lotion on his reddening skin.

“I’m never going to survive this kingdom,” he grumbles.

“You’ll be fine.” I smirk as I sharpen another knife. “If you find someone attracted to strawberries you’ll have an ardent admirer.”

He sticks his tongue out at me in response, and I giggle while popping another raspberry into my mouth.

Cayden and Ryder discard their shirts and lift their fists as several soldiers cheer them on.

The pair circle each other, and I’d probably be able to hear the taunts they’re firing at each other if I wasn’t so focused on Cayden’s sculpted torso.

Good gods. Fruit juice dribbles down my elbow, and I don’t even realize I’ve squeezed the raspberry I’m holding until Cayden winks at me, breaking my trance.

Saskia scoffs from where she cools herself with a red satin fan that matches her off-the-shoulder two-piece set.

It’s in a similar style to mine, sheer flowy fabric cuffing around our ankles and wrists, but mine is lavender and encrusted with pearls instead of jewels and shows off more of my stomach.

“You’d think they’d use their free time to behave as something other than brutes. ”

“I think you set your expectations too high.”

“My turn!” Finnian shouts, shooting up from the shade and crossing the deck as the soldiers cheer when Cayden pins Ryder face down on the wood.

“Get him, Finny!” Finnian is the clear underdog of the fight, but I increase my cheering the more Cayden stares at me.

There’s a challenge in his eyes, and even Saskia joins me.

Finnian strips himself of his shirt and I try not to cringe while looking at his sunburned skin.

How did he manage to get burned under his clothes?

Cayden easily dodges Finnian’s punch and twists his arm behind his back before locking an arm around his throat. “Oh, Finny.”

“Elowen, your husband is trying to kill me!” Finnian shouts, clawing at Cayden’s arm despite him not utilizing even half his strength. Finnian just survives on dramatics.

Cayden rolls his eyes. “You asked to spar with me.”

“Spar doesn’t mean strangle.”

“You annoyed me.”

“That’s surprisingly easy,” Finnian huffs as Cayden releases him and takes a tankard of chilled ale from a chuckling Ryder.

I hop off the barrel and stride toward the sparring circle, stepping past the soldiers and standing toe to toe with Cayden.

His glistening chest rises and falls, nearly pressing into mine with each breath.

He seems lighter than he has the past few days, but the darkness lurking beneath the surface—which wasn’t there before the ritual—is still present.

I wonder if a foreign power thrums in his veins, building and choking him from the inside since he wasn’t able to expel it.

If he’s also blessed by the gods, I wonder in what ways it’ll manifest.

“You want to spar with me?” he asks.

Up close, it’s even harder to ignore the pull I feel toward him. He’s all hard lines and dark ink, and the memory of him pressed against me…pushing into me…my mouth goes dry. What I truly want is to guide him back to our cabin and lock the door.

“I do.” He licks his lips, calling for two dulled practice swords, and I wrap my fingers around the hilt, testing the weight of it as I slowly circle him. “But I want to make it more interesting.”

“A bet?”

I shrug, looking up at him beneath my lashes, the picture of innocence he knows I’ll never be. “That’s your area of expertise, is it not?”

I don’t mention the tavern, given we’re surrounded by people hanging on to our every word, but Cayden catches my meaning and looks even more intrigued. “What do you want?”

“A favor at a later date.”

“Fine.” He chuckles, stepping closer to me so only I’m able to hear his prize. “If I win, I want you to wear another one of those lacy sets for me.”

“Deal,” I whisper, my body heating from his raspy tone. “The winner is whoever disarms the other first.”

Cayden won’t hit me, which is why he called for the swords, and most likely won’t fight at his full strength for fear of hurting me.

Even when I first met him all those months ago, he only disarmed and restrained me.

He’ll be looking to do the same, just as he did to Finnian.

Cayden is one of the greatest fighters Ravaryn has ever seen, and when the history books recount his life, it won’t be the tales of his crown that come first, it’ll be his sword.

He fights like a god and has the mind of death itself.

Not even a breath later, he cuts the distance between us and strikes.

I shoot my sword up to block him, and our eyes lock over the blades.

The clang of steel vibrates my bones. Using all my force, I shove him back, wasting no time in advancing.

I strike once, twice, three times—he blocks them all.

I feign frustration, baring my teeth, wanting to make him pay for his little actress comment last night.

The soldiers around us chuckle as we repeat the same movements again.

He forces me back with his blade, and I stumble over the foot he wedges behind mine and throw my weight to the side to keep from falling.

His blade twirls in his hand as he tracks me like a predator, and I know I’ve done enough to make him believe I have no ulterior moves up my sleeve.

His sword cuts through the air and I pretend to be more tired than I am, letting the set of dulled blades slam into my side.

I knot my brows together and drop to my knees, forcing myself not to smile as his sword clatters to the ground.

“Fuck, angel, are you—”

I keep a firm hold on my sword as I pivot on my knees, swiping my leg beneath his ankles and sending him crashing to the deck. I climb on top of him and point my blade at his throat. The deafening cheers vibrate the boards beneath us.

“You little cheat,” he says, but his dimples are deep in his cheeks as he looks up at me.

“I believe it was you who told me to never fight fair.” I drop the sword beside me and lean down to his ear. “But if you behave, I’ll still give you what you asked for.”

And with that, I’m off him and blowing a kiss over my shoulder as he drags a hand down his face and gets to his feet. Green eyes drill into me as I walk back to an ecstatic Saskia.