Page 82 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)

Chapter Sixty-one

Elowen

The sun sets on our third day on board, marking it almost halfway through the journey. Finnian snores on my shoulder as we soak in the dwindling warmth through our thick sweaters. My neck aches from sitting straight-backed against the wall for so long, but I feel bad moving when he’s so peaceful.

Ryder strides toward us, Cayden and Saskia not too far away. He taps Finnian’s cheek, and a snore catches in his throat as he slowly blinks his eyes open to glare at Ryder.

“I was sleeping,” he grumbles.

“Yes, I believe we all heard you,” Ryder replies before addressing us all. “We need to begin discussing how we’re going to get through the Thirwen and Imirath blockade. Ophir was able to wield the tides to get a sense of their coordinates and we’re due to hit them in the early hours of morning.”

Zale joins our group as well, and Finnian subtly hides himself behind my hair to wipe his face.

“You didn’t drool,” I whisper.

“I don’t trust you anymore after you didn’t wipe my face when the vextree poisoned me.”

“I have boundaries in this friendship.”

“Since when?” he hisses.

“I don’t actually know.”

He tugs one of my curls, and I bat his hand away as we turn back to the others.

Zale could’ve sailed with any vessel within his fleet, but he opted to travel with us, as did Zarius. It makes it easier to plan for battles as a unit, but Zale and I have also been meditating every morning at sunrise to help me locate the well of power within me.

“What if Elowen just did her thing and flew ahead and burned all the ships?” Ryder asks.

“She can’t fly into battle entirely by herself when we don’t know their numbers,” Finnian shoots out.

“The soldiers who swore allegiance to Zarius informed us that their boats are charmed against earthly fire, and dragonfire is unpredictable. It burns hotter and takes longer to dissipate. Even with the help of the water mages to increase our speed, it’ll add days onto our journey if we alter our course and we can’t risk sailing the fleet through a firestorm,” I say.

“It will be a battle of blades, not dragons,” Cayden adds. As much as I love flying, I’ve missed fighting on the ground…well, if you can consider a ship to be ground.

“You may not be able to use the dragons, but I believe I have a way to aid our efforts,” Zarius says, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Do you even know how to wield a sword?” Ryder asks, his tone dripping in condescension, but to his credit, Zarius doesn’t rise to the jab.

“Quite well,” he answers evenly. “However, I’m not speaking of blades. I’m speaking of magic.” My brows furrow and I cross my arms. I wasn’t aware he possessed any magic.

But my curiosity gives way to shock…because Zarius disappears.

There’s nothing but an empty space where he was standing.

“All hells,” Saskia mutters before abruptly screaming when Zarius reappears several paces from where he stood, holding a sword to Ryder’s neck.

“As I said, I’m very proficient,” he says while sheathing his blade, earning a murderous glare from both Saskia and Ryder, but I’m intrigued.

“You’re an illusionist,” Cayden says.

Zarius nods. “I’m able to manipulate the perception of those around me.”

“Then why didn’t you do that the night we met?” Saskia demands.

“He did,” Cayden cuts in. “When I first saw him, his hair was blond, but it changed soon after he left the gambling den.”

“I was piss drunk,” Zarius flatly states while looking at Saskia. “I need to fully concentrate for the illusion to be believable. One wrong detail and everything could fail. It’s extremely taxing, and I won’t be able to wield a blade as I work.”

“So that’s how you stayed hidden in Galakin.” I drum my fingers against the barrel. “You’d alter your features so nobody would know who to look for, even if they had an idea of where you were.”

Zarius nods. “I chose Galakin because it would be the hardest kingdom for my father to send assassins to, but I was still an enemy prince no matter my standing with my father.”

“Were you born with that ability?” I ask.

“It developed over time,” he answers. “My people worship the God of Illusion, the Mind, and Memory. It’s believed that my ancestors on my mother’s side were gifted a drop of his blood, giving us our red eyes and, occasionally, magical abilities.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to mask the entirety of the fleet?”

“If given the proper space to prepare, yes.”

“Worst-case scenario, you fail and we die.” Cayden shrugs, leaning back between my thighs. “It’ll spare you from living with the shame unless your father ordered you to be captured alive.”

“What a lovely vote of confidence, Cayden. I’m so glad you joined this conversation.”

“Anytime, my love.” He pats my leg.

“You’ll still need to be prepared to fight once the illusion is unmasked. If we’re to put you on the throne, then prove you’ll survive the battle,” Ryder says, bringing the conversation back to where we started. “You didn’t fight when we first captured you.”

“As I stated, I was piss drunk,” Zarius reiterates. “And who’s to say you’re the best soldier I’ll face?”

I laugh and follow it up with a cough in an attempt to cover it up.

Ryder tugs his shirt over his head and throws it to the side. “I’m not a soldier. I’m a general.”

Zarius says something under his breath that I’m not able to hear as he mirrors Ryder’s actions, removing his shirt to expose panes of lean muscle and a tattoo of a roaring snow leopard that takes up the entirety of his back.

The tail coils around his waist, and its front claws are raised as it stands on its legs.

This must’ve been his familiar. It’s a memorial of what he lost forever inked on his skin.

Rhys steps forward as Zarius grabs a practice sword, as do the six guards who swore to Zarius in the prison.

They were of higher rank and are now his king’s guard, which is why they’re sailing with us.

They’ve had to take up bunks below decks where the crew rotates sleeping, but they’re making it work.

So long as nobody knocks on my door and asks to sleep in my cabin, I don’t care how they sleep.

I glance between Rhys and Zarius, the older knight staring at the prince with unabashed pride.

It’s the look I’ve seen countless fathers give their children.

Sometimes it’s easy to identify an emotion when you’ve never known it.

It stands out more, perplexes you. There’s a nagging sensation to identify what it is so you can decipher why you’ve never experienced it or if you ever will.

Zarius’s hair is white, wavy, and cropped beneath his chin, though he always pulls the top half back and leaves two pieces to frame his crimson eyes.

Rhys’s hair is shorn close to his scalp, but from the black undertone to his gray wisps, it’s obvious he once had a full head of dark hair.

I suppose their eye shape is similar, both deep set and angular, but not identical.

I just can’t shake the way Rhys not only looks at Zarius but treats him.

I wrap my arms around Cayden’s shoulders and press my chest to his back to lean close to his ear. “Rhys and Zarius…do you think…”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “I knew you’d realize it.”

“Cayden Veles, did you know a secret and not tell me?”

He smiles over his shoulder. “I was waiting for you to figure it out.”

I glare at him. “I’m going to light the lavender lingerie you wanted me to wear on fire.”

His eyes narrow. “I’ll put it on a shelf you can’t reach.”

We face forward again as steel collides, and the two men begin circling each other.

Ryder’s sword shoots forward, but Zarius blocks it.

Ryder has more power behind his swings, but the prince is swift.

It’s clear Rhys trained him and catered to his strengths.

If Ryder could go for the kill, Zarius would’ve been dead already.

He has the battle experience that Zarius lacks, but sparring is much more drawn out.

“I was waiting for this to happen,” Zale mutters, cocking a hip on Finnian’s barrel.

“I think we all were.” Finnian answers with a chuckle. “They’ve been at each other’s throats since they met.”

“Why?”

“He drunkenly complimented Saskia.”

“I have sisters.” Zale cringes. “I can’t blame Ryder.”

“I got over it.” Finnian pats Cayden’s shoulder and is quickly swatted away.

“All of my compliments to Elowen were made while sober,” Cayden states.

“You drink whiskey like it’s water,” Finnian answers.

“I wish you would. Maybe you’d pass out and stop talking.”

I roll my eyes. “You all make me look forward to battle just to get a break from this incessant bickering.”

Zarius locks his blade with Ryder and darts his eyes to Saskia. A rare smirk forms on his lips as he says something that makes Ryder growl and shove him back. A sword drops to the deck, and Ryder’s fist slams into Zarius’s mouth.

Zarius wipes the blood from his lips. “For such a dignified general, I didn’t think you’d resort to such a juvenile response.”

“Fuck you,” Ryder grits out.

“There’s that sparkling eloquence.”

Finnian sighs, shoving himself off the barrel to step between the two. “That’s enough. Go take a walk.”

The pair of them continue glaring at each other as they stalk off toward opposite ends of the ship. Saskia sighs while shaking her head, muttering about stupid men. I can’t say I disagree. This vessel feels a whole lot smaller than when we first set sail.

“Both of you walk overboard to spare me a headache,” Cayden calls out.