Page 85 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)

Chapter Sixty-three

Elowen

My coat fans out on the upper deck as I lie on my back and stare up at the stars.

They’re so bright tonight that my dragons’ scales glisten as they fly.

I couldn’t sleep which isn’t unusual, but it’s our final night on board.

Aside from the battle, it feels as if we’ve escaped into our own world when we’re on the ocean.

I’d like to see more of Ravaryn when the war is over, and though the challenges will always come, I look forward to the day when I can wake up and enjoy my life.

I’ve never fought for glory or to be known as one of the greatest warriors in the history of Ravaryn when scholars simplify my life into a few paragraphs.

I fight because I was hurt, as were the people and creatures I love, but I long for the day when I won’t have to worry about whether they’ll make it to the next.

I want mornings in my garden, afternoons beside the lake, and evenings by the fire.

I want to read all the books I consistently save for another day and try the recipes I’ve written on parchment.

I want to live, not just survive. If war was preferred, we wouldn’t crave peace in the midst of it.

I pull the fur-lined fabric tighter around me when a breeze blows off the sea, and I’m thankful I remembered gloves before leaving the cabin.

Cayden had to run a plan by Zarius, and I know I could’ve gone with him, but I wasn’t in the mood to speak.

Sometimes I crave silence like air. But aside from that, hearing Cayden’s battle plans reminds me of what we’ll face when we dock and it’s like an invisible hand wraps around my neck.

My breathing always picks up, as does my pulse, and the walls feel like they’re closing in on me.

I couldn’t lie in bed, in what was suffocating silence, and needed to find a quietness that calmed me.

Cayden can fill me in on his plans when we dock, but I just want one more night of pretending we live the kind of life where I don’t have to fear him dying from a blade.

In another life, I’d really like to be ordinary with him.

The door below me squeaks on the hinges, and I know it’s Cayden when his scent floats up to me.

“Wife,” he says by way of greeting, claiming the spot beside me and placing a wrapped box between us. He rests an arm over his bent knee and places his other hand by my head. “Before you say that I buy you too much, I don’t care, and this is your winter solstice present. So just open it.”

“You have such a sweet way with words,” I say while sitting up. “Your present is wrapped and under the bed.”

“Is it lingerie?” he asks.

“Why? Do you want to wear something pretty for me?” He tugs on one of my curls, and I smack his hand away.

He laughs, and I don’t know why I’m taken aback by the sound.

Maybe because it’s so rare to see a smile on his face…

but to see one so entirely unburdened is even more so.

I hoard them like little treasures in my mind, keeping a portrait gallery of all the moments I pray I’ll never forget.

“Behave and I’ll give you what you want. After I give you your actual present.”

I had Blade forge a sword from an obsidian steel found in the caves deep in the southern Seren Mountains.

The pommel has an oval sapphire framed by two dragon wings.

He scratches the back of his neck, and his smile becomes tighter.

Maybe one day it’ll be easier for him to receive gifts, but I doubt it’ll be anytime soon.

He avidly watches my fingers untie the lavender bow and unfold the matching fabric keeping whatever is inside hidden from me. He swallows and runs a hand through his hair again, plucking a knife from his thigh to twirl it between his fingers.

Gods, what’s in here?

I lift the lid, revealing a thick leather-bound book with five dragons burned into the center and vines along the edges. My curiosity mounts as I hoist the heavy gift from the box and trace the divots. I flip the cover open, revealing a single word written in delicate script: Hatchlings.

I look at him, but he averts his eyes to the knife as he clenches his jaw.

When I flip the page, my breath is ripped from me as if I’ve been punched in the stomach.

I trail my shaking finger over the small dragons staring back at me.

They’re so tiny they could fit in the palm of my hand if they hatched today rather than when I was an infant.

I turn another page, and a detailed description of Sorin follows: his breed, his size, how his egg was incubated, his strengths, weaknesses, and personality traits.

They’re all details I’ve shared with Cayden in passing, thinking nothing of it as I rambled about my memories or things I learned.

Several drawings of Sorin in various positions and from different angles fill the parchment, followed by more pages dedicated to the other four.

Judging from both the weight and size of the book, I think all twenty-four years have been illustrated, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the twenty-fifth year is there as well considering our birthday is only a few weeks away.

I’m a year older, which is so strange to think considering I view them as oversized babies.

I keep flipping as my heart fills to the brim and overflows, hugging the book to my chest after looking at an aged seven Venatrix so my tears don’t bleed through the page. Cayden reaches forward to wipe them from my cheeks, looking as if I’ve stabbed him.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmurs. “If you hate it, you can toss it into the sea, and we never have to speak of it again.”

I shake my head. “H-how?”

He licks his lips. “It was nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“This isn’t nothing, ” I adamantly state. “This must’ve cost a fortune.”

“You mentioned how much it hurt you to not know what they looked like as they grew up.” He shrugs. “I just wanted to try to give you back a piece of what Garrick stole. I know it’s not the same as—”

I shut him up with a kiss, climbing between his legs with the book still pressed firmly to my chest. His pulse thunders through him, and he threads his hands through my hair.

I pour all the worries and anxieties that drove me up here into him, letting his love burn them away.

I want to be here with him, not lost in my head or worrying about a future that hasn’t come to pass.

But even the sweetest fruits ripen and rot; nothing lasts forever, but clinging to him makes me feel like I can alter that inevitable path.

“You don’t hate it?” he asks, pulling away.

“I love it.” I blink away the remainder of my tears. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, the tension fully melting from his broad shoulders as he tightens his arms around me and pulls me into his chest. “Thank the gods. For a second I debated jumping over the railing with the book.”

I scrunch my nose. “I think I’ll keep you around for a bit, Veles.”

“Mmmm,” he mumbles. “How generous.”

He kisses me again, threading his fingers through my hair and holding me against him while I flip through the book.

There are times when it gets to be too much, where the pain is overwhelming and I have to set it aside, but he continues holding me as dawn breaks over the horizon and I’ve read through it all.