Page 87 of Wrath of the Dragons (Fear the Flames #2)

Chapter Sixty-five

Cayden

We slow the horses after riding through the night and the entirety of the following day with only small breaks during the journey.

The closer we get to the castle, the fewer citizens populate the towns.

They must’ve fled to the mountains to seek shelter from the battle.

The roads are covered in muddy boot and hoof prints from the soldiers and their horses that pulled back from the border.

It serves as an omen: one army flees and another approaches.

I kneel down to grip a soaked, bloodstained blue curtain with our sigil stitched upon it. Elowen strides beside me, the ribbons from her homecoming still laced through her thick braid, and a frown pulls at her lips as she regards what I’m holding.

“I won’t be my father,” she whispers. “I won’t leave this world worse than how I found it.”

She says the words like a reminder, like she fears seeing her father’s traits in herself when she takes his throne.

“You already have made it better.” Elowen is ruthless, but the difference is that she is so out of survival, Garrick is so out of his hunger for power.

If two thieves commit the same crime, their morality can often be found in their motives.

I let the curtain slip from my grip, glancing toward the clearing up ahead where the army will camp.

“Hope is like a drug. Once you experience it, you’ll search for it in everything and crave it in your most vulnerable moments.

You give these people hope. It’s why they fled.

They know a better world is coming and want to live to see the day it dawns. ”

“I didn’t think you believed in things like hope.”

“I don’t.” I grab Koa’s reins and walk beside Elowen, leading him beyond the town. General Gryffin transported him from the castle stables so I can ride him into battle. “But I’ve always believed in you.”

The dragons screech, drawing her attention to the sky as I tie Koa off on a post where I’ll pitch our tent. “We should make a fire. Finnian asked me to go on a walk earlier, so we’ll gather some wood.”

“I’ll get Ryder and Saskia,” I answer, watching as she shakes out her hands and walks across the row to Finnian’s tent, threading her arm through his as she erases the anxiety from her features.

She’s putting on a brave face for his sake.

I catch Braxton’s eye and jut my chin in their direction.

He nods and trails them from a safe distance.

The pair of them may be warriors, but we’re too deep into enemy territory for me to take any chances.

Crackling flames fill the silence as the five of us gather a few leagues from the merriment of camp, sitting on downed trees as the last rays of the day are snuffed out.

We all know what’s to come, and it makes our group more somber.

We walked this path to free the dragons, knowing it would lead us back here, but I don’t think any of us anticipated how quickly we would return.

I’ve never had anything to lose, and now it feels like I have everything to lose.

I tip my tankard against my lips, twirling one of Elowen’s curls around my finger as she rests between my legs.

She moves every few minutes to stir the stew in the pot resting in the embers.

I’d offer to take over, but I know completing tasks eases her nerves.

“You’re all acting like we lost the battle before it’s even begun,” she sighs, pouring some food into a dish for Finnian and handing it off to him.

Ryder spoons some into his mouth. “My apologies if the eve of battle is a dull affair, sunshine.”

“Apology accepted.” I don’t know how she manages it, but Ryder’s face cracks into a grin.

“There is nothing tragic in this moment, so don’t borrow tomorrow’s pain for today’s peace.

If my world is to end tomorrow, there isn’t anyone else I’d rather spend my last night with.

” Sorin and Calithea land in the woods behind us, huffing. “And you too, sweetlings.”

The emerald and silver dragons curl themselves around our small gathering as the other three circle in the air above us.

Elowen smiles, broad and beautifully, and it steals my breath before I drop my gaze.

The woman with the biggest heart I’ve ever known will be the biggest target on the field.

She’s been a target all her life and gods, I know she can handle herself, but I never knew it would be this hard to watch her fulfill the deal we struck.

Part of me wishes we had failed and lived in exile together as outlaws.

But she’d never be happy.

She’d never be whole without her dragons.

She loves those beasts more than most mothers love their children.

Finnian looks around at all of us. “This isn’t my worst day, nor is it any of yours, so let’s not sit around with sour moods and regret it in the morning.”

“When I was locked in the dungeon,” Elowen begins, and all of us pause.

It feels like the world stops. She never speaks of her time in Imirath.

“After the particularly bad beatings, I’d whisper, Just one more day.

All I had to do was survive just one more day, and maybe the next I’d see my dragons, I’d find a way to break free.

I wouldn’t have the life I do if I gave up while fighting for it. ”

I bite my tongue and curl my nails into my palms to keep from charging the Imirath castle this very moment. She deserves so much more from this wretched world, and once the war is won, she’ll haveit.

“No matter what happens”—Ryder shakes his head—“I wouldn’t give up this time with you all for the world.”

Finnian raises his tankard. “To the families we choose.”

“And to one more day with them,” I finish.

I bury my unease and kiss her cheek when she takes her place between my legs again. Then someone lurking beyond the dragons speaks. “Do you have room for one more?”

Elowen’s eyes glow gold and Sorin lifts his tail to let Zale into our small circle. “Always, princey.”

Saskia’s brows rise. “I thought you’d be spending the night with your soldiers.”

“They regard me as a prince, and I care little for formality on tonight of all nights.”

“So you enjoy it when you’re not on the brink of battle?” Finnian asks.

Zale shrugs, taking some stew from the pot and nodding his thanks to Elowen. “I don’t despise it. Would you if you were a prince?”

Finnian purses his lips. “Can’t say I’ve thought much about it, since I’m an orphan-turned-commander.”

“I never thought I’d relate to you on anything,” I mutter.

“Isn’t it amazing?”

“Try annoying.” Elowen pinches me in the thigh with her surprisingly sharp nails. “Gods,” I mutter, snatching her hand. “Yes, Finnian, I’m immensely glad we are both warmongering orphans. Happy now?”

“Immensely,” she responds, mocking my voice and sending a wave of laughter washing over everyone in the group.

I bend down to tap my finger on her lips, lowering my voice so only she’s able to hear. “Keep running that mouth, love. You’re making me think of all the ways I’d love to shut you up.”

“I’m counting on it.” Her eyes spark with a challenge, and she bites the tip of my finger before turning back to the group and snuggling into my chest.

Sorin growls when a twig snaps. “Fucking hells,” another familiar voice bites out, and Elowen calls the dragon off.

“Hello, Zarius,” she says.

“I’m only here because I want to make sure you’re not plotting without me, not because I wish to spend time with any of you,” he says, claiming an empty spot at the base of a tree. “I didn’t expect to nearly be burned alive.”

Elowen rolls her eyes. “Sorin didn’t even lift his head.”

“They can still breathe fire while lying down.”

“If it offers you any consolation, he already had his fill of goats so he probably wouldn’t have eaten you.”

Zarius’s gaze cuts to the green beast staring back at him as he drawls, “Yes, that’s quite comforting.”

“We’re not plotting without you,” Saskia states. “Friends have dinner on occasion, though I doubt you’d have experienced that given your repellent personality.”

“If you found a way to accomplish this feat, I’m sure I’ll catch on.”

Elowen hides her face in my chest to laugh, but Finnian sees her and it sets him off, followed by Ryder, because Finnian snorts like a damn pig. I wrap my arm around Elowen’s shoulders to hide my face in her hair, but Saskia still sees.

“I hate all of you,” she grumbles.

Her anger melts over the course of the night, and she laughs along with the rest of us at various jokes at one another’s expense and stories we trade.

But the pile of logs disappears, and then the second, and the third.

When the camp has gone quiet, the gravity of the moment weighs heavily on us all.

The flames die out, leaving only glowing embers, and the cold creeps in.

A sliver of the moon hangs high in the sky, and all of us know it’s time to get some rest, but none of us moves—not Finnian, leaning against a tree; or Ryder, with an arm tucked under his head as he stares at the stars; Zale, as he finishes off his ale; Saskia, swaddled in a blanket beside me; Zarius, prodding the embers with a twig; or Elowen, with her head resting on my thigh.

“No goodbyes,” Ryder says, getting to his feet and brushing off his pants. “I’ll see all of you in the morning.” He offers a hand to Saskia as Sorin and Calithea take to the skies again, nodding to us before he escorts his sister to her tent.

“I’ll walk back with you two,” Zale says to Finnian and Zarius. “It’ll save me from the married couple.”