Page 26 of Fear the Flames
“You sure you’re okay with this?”
“Yes,” I give him the same short answer I have the past five times he asked that question. I’m not fine, I’m far from fine, but I must be fine. The thought of being surrounded by people is more intimidating than I thought it would be. My inhales are sharp and shallow, my stomach churns, and my palms tingle. It’s not that I’ve never been in front of a crowd before, I’ve addressed the citizens of Aestilian more times than I can count, but the thought of being surrounded by people I don’t know…people that could very likely be there to kill me, is daunting.Nothing is going to happen,I tell myself for the thousandth time, but nothing eases the tightness in my throat.
“You don’t have to lie to me. I know you well enough.” Finnian kicks off the tree and takes a few steps in my direction but never reaches out to touch me. He knows it won’t calm me right now. I don’t want to stand still; I want to keep pacing.
“Have you stopped being mad at me?” I jokingly ask.
“Fine,” he holds up his hands in surrender, “I forgive you for not telling me you made a deal with two of the best-looking men I have ever seen. Other than myself, of course.” My laugh sounds breathless, more like a gasp. Finnian’s humorous demeanor, which usually appears effortlessly, is strained. “You definitely could have wiped the drool off my face, though.”
“I was a little more focused on getting the poison out of your leg,” I retort. Finnian was never actually mad at me. I’m also glad I didn’t tell him anything about Cayden or Ryder because the look on Finnian’s face when he first saw them was priceless. I had to push his chin up to close his mouth.
“A noble diversion.” His smile fades, “Are you ready to leave?”
I dryly swallow, surveying the space around us. We’re separated from the rest of the group by a rocky hill. I didn’t want anyone seeing me like this, but Finnian doesn’t count. Cayden had to send off a letter to Eagor once we heard the cheering, so we’re taking a temporary break. His darkened eyes and deep glare were the only signs he’s pissed. I take it he’s not a fan of the parade either.
“Mhmm,” I hum. I make it a few steps before it feels like a hand has closed over my throat. My shaky palms moisten. I dig my nails into my skin, but nothing can control the flare-up of anxiety coursing through me, conquering me.
“Elowen,” Finnian’s concerned voice streams forward. My fingers close around two hilts while I sink to my knees and place my fists on the cool surface of the rocky hill. Sweat breaks out against my skin, but I feel incredibly cold. Shivers rack up and down my spine, making my teeth chatter together. My breathing is ragged, and black dots fill my vision. I pull on the collar of my leathers, which suddenly feels too tight. “Fucking gods, Elowen, look at me.” Finnian drops to his knees beside me, but I don’t look at him; I can’t. I keep my eyes on the knives my hands clutch. They’re something I can control. I’m not the same girl I was in Imirath. I can defend myself if anyone comes for me.
“What’s going on?” Ailliard’s familiar voice drifts closer, followed by the crunch of leaves. But I don’t look at him either. I keep my eyes on my knives to ground myself and take in deep breaths to calm my nerves.
“The fucking parade! Who throws a parade for someone that spent the last fourteen years in hiding and a prisoner for the other ten?” Finnian’s tone rises in anger. I drop a knife and reach out to him, silently telling him to keep his voice down.
“It’s what she signed up for,” Ailliard hisses. “Elowen, come on, be stronger than this. You can do this.”
“She is strong,” Finnian growls. “She can be strong and have anxiety. She’s not made of stone.”
“Finnian, it’s okay,” I rasp, desperately needing water. The tingling sensation still lingers in my palms, along with lightheadedness, but I want to end their argument before it gets worse. “Itiswhat I signed up for.” I mutter a curse, getting to my feet and wiping the sweat from my brow. My body still shakes as I walk out from behind the hill, Finnian and Ailliard in tow. The latter whispers that I’ll be fine in my ear before jogging over to his horse.
“I can find a back entrance,” Finnian offers, uncapping a canteen for me.
“I have to do this.” I take in several gulps of water before speaking again, “I don’t want to be scared of living.”
Leaves crunch behind me, but I don’t have to turn to know who it is. I wrap my shaking hands around my torso and turn toward Cayden. Doing my best to appear unrattled. Even though I know it won’t work. I’ve realized he almost never believes I’m fine when I say I am.
“I sent a letter with your proper titles so that Eagor will announce you as both princess and queen,” Cayden states. The kind gesture catches me off guard. I know the shock is evident on my face and that he catalogs it in his brain—just like every other reaction I have. “My soldiers are lining the perimeter of the parade, and I made sure that citizens won’t be allowed to watch unless they temporarily forfeit their weapons. Ryder and I will flank you—”
“I’ll be on one side of her,” Finnian cuts in.
Cayden continues after I nod my head, confirming that’s what I want. “Finnian and I will flank you the entire ride to the castle. Once we enter the gates, it’s a straight shot forward.”
“Okay,” I nod, turning away from him and raising myself onto my horse. Finnian walks away once I’m on mine, but Cayden remains, looking like he wishes to say something more. “Yes?”
I can read him just as well as he can read me, and I know it irks him just as much as it irks me. We’re two people that don’t like anyone digging too deep, but he’s met his match. If he wants to push me, I’ll push him right back. His tongue pokes into the side of his cheek, eyes drifting toward my crown.
“Looks good on you,” he jerks his chin toward my crown before turning away, leaving me stunned and irritated.
The ride to Verendus is short, and we’re soon enveloped by the cheering crowd. Cayden’s soldiers line the parade just as he promised. My horse’s hooves patter against the cobblestone street as I give an effortlessly fake smile to the citizens around us. Various colored petals rain down, engulfing us in a sea of red, pink, purple, and yellow. It’s hard to make out anything other than the petals, but I see vines creeping up several buildings along the main road. Some of their leaves have turned orange and red as the first hint of winter enraptures the city.
Finnian soaks in the attention and seems to be smiling genuinely. It doesn’t shock me when I look to my other side and find Cayden giving his signature glare. He must feel me looking at him because he quickly turns his head, and a smirk grows in place of his scowl. The scent of butter, cinnamon, and chocolate travel out of several bakeries, making my mouth water. I can’t wait to try some of their pastries. Pastries have a special place in my heart—alongside knives, flowers, books, and coffee.
The petals clear, and in front of me stands a castle far more beautiful than anything my mind concocted. We rode between the border of Feynadra and Urasos, so I never saw their castles, and I don’t remember what Imirath looks like, but I don’t think anything can compare to Vareveth. The castle, made of a mixture of white and tan stone, sits on top of a jagged rocky hill that resembles a small mountain. Vine-covered spires extend high into the sky. On the left of the castle sits a deep blue lake that stretches into a forest. The forest sits at the base of snowcapped mountains and loops behind the castle. A gushing waterfall spills over the left side of the mountain that the castle sits upon and into a river at its base. An extravagant stone bridge with gold embellishments stretches down from the entrance, and the steps end a few feet in front of the open circle we’ve stopped in.
King Eagor and Queen Valia Dasterian descend the steps, stopping on one of the platforms that stretches between flights while waving to their citizens with practiced smiles. They look exactly how all monarchs are supposed to look: regal, untouchable, rich. Matching gold and white capes drift behind them, and emerald crowns sit on their blonde heads. Valia’s hair is platinum and curled to perfection, whereas Eagor is sandy and pushed back, not a hair out of place on either of them.
The crowd silences when their king raises his hand. “It is with my greatest pleasure that we welcome the Atarah heir, Queen Elowen, to Vareveth. The Princess of Imirath and Queen of Aestilian, a nation she forged herself. We are honored to form an alliance with such a resilient woman.” The crowd cheers once again, drowning out Eagor’s voice. I turn away from the monarchs and face the cheering crowd, waving at them. Finnian raises his fingers to his lips and blows out a high-pitched whistle that changes my smile from forced to genuine.
As inviting as this welcome is, I know how sometimes the most beautiful things can be the most dangerous. It may seem like I’m looking at a rose bush, but I’m fully aware of the thorns that threaten to pierce my skin if I get too close, or the vipers that will bite my ankles if I’m distracted. Everyone knows how you take care of a snake should they threaten you—you cut off the head.
