Page 48 of Fear the Flames
Cayden,
I’ll let you know if I find anything good in the archives after I get back to the castle tomorrow night.
Will you be back soon?
Elowen.
Day 15
Elowen,
I’ll be back soon, angel, I promise. Maybe you can recommend some of those romance books you keep on your mantle like they’re your most prized possessions. I heard you giggling with one of them in your lap when I slipped into my room after taking care of the assassin.
Enjoy the archives,
Cayden.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Ilean the back of my head against the wooden chair I’ve been occupying for the past few hours. My neck aches from being hunched over, and my eyes burn from scanning pages upon pages of information. I inspect the walls covered in stained glass windows and let my eyes travel up to the high vaulted ceiling to take a break from the tiny text. The sun has already disappeared, but I’m sure the windows are gorgeous during the day. Normally, I would consider hours surrounded by books to be an ideal evening, but these books are filled with reality rather than escapism. I’ve never been a non-fiction reader.
A spark of anticipation rattles through me whenever a door creaks open, and I wait for Cayden to waltz in like he owns the place, but it’s never him. What doessooneven mean? His letters have made this week go by faster than last week. The final political meeting took place this morning, but I’m not sure if I’ll include that in the letter I’m writing him tonight. It has become part of my routine to start my day with a letter from Cayden and end it by sending a letter back.
We can’t put anything that could jeopardize the heist, whatever he’s doing at the border, or any concrete details about the political meetings I’ve attended in our letters just in case they get intercepted. Our letters feel more like two friends catching up rather than two allies keeping tabs on one another. Not that I mind, I’ll never admit it out loud, but I miss our verbal spats. I always make sure to open his letters first thing in the morning, when I’m completely alone, so that nobody can see the idiotic smile that spreads across my face when I spy an unopened letter on my nightstand, lying on top of the rest of his opened letters.
The red rose that I stuck in a glass of water also sits near my letter pile. Sometimes I even find myself smiling at nothing when I recall his words or when something happens that I know I’ll tell him about. My cheeks burned so harshly this morning after he mentioned the romance books that I had to put a cold towel on my face. Ice cubes would have melted the second I rubbed them on my skin. I’m still debating on recommending him my filthiest book or a chaste book, so I can watch him hunt for the dirty parts to no avail.
I rub my temples in an attempt to ease the dull headache that’s slowly forming. I’ve spent the evening tutoring myself on the conflict between Imirath and Vareveth. I know a lot of it already, but the customs in Vareveth are interesting to learn about. The reigning Monarch of Vareveth and the Commander are almost equal in power. Each has a specific role, and neither can infringe on the other’s power because they’re supposed to act as a unit. It was a settlement after a brutal civil war that had taken place hundreds of years ago.
Cayden can form a militaristic alliance with me, but not a political alliance, and I need both. Eagor controls the provisions for his people and the army, which is why he’s the one that must handle the food supply going back to Aestilian. Eagor can engage in political disputes but needs Cayden’s support to mobilize the army. Cayden can technically only be my ally in the war, but a smirk rises on my lips as I recall what he said about getting around authority and giving me the elixir for crop growth.
“You know you can ask Saskia anything you need to know, right?” Ryder’s voice cuts through the silent archives. His tight curls aren’t as structured today; it looks like he’s been running his hands through them.
Finnian stiffens beside me; he’s been on edge since I met up with him after his final meeting of the day. I tried to inquire about his mood shift, but Ryder appeared before I could. Even if the four of us have grown closer in Cayden’s absence, I don’t feel right prodding at his feelings in front of other people.
“Why can’t she ask you or Cayden?” Finnian stiffly asks. What’s going on with him? Even Ryder looks confused.
“Because Saskia is our strategist, she’s always studying this stuff and can answer any questions Elowen might have better than Cayden or me,” Ryder smoothly replies, picking at the paint under his nails. I wonder what kind of things he paints. I’ve heard of soldiers using creative outlets to cope; I do the same with baking, gardening, and healing. I think there’s beauty in creating things despite feeling like all your hands can cause is damage.
“Or give the most elusive answers,” Finnian mumbles under his breath. I nudge him with my elbow. It’s not as if I can’t put that together myself, given Saskia’s fierce intelligence, but she’s been nothing but helpful these past two weeks. Always whispering the definition of terms, names, and titles I may have forgotten. The archives are empty aside from a few scholars and us, but I don’t want the scholars getting the idea there’s strife in our group. Gossip spreads like wildfire—I should know. I’ve seen the servants paying more attention to me after the assassination attempt, and the letters between Cayden and I became regular.
“I’ll ask her for clarification on a few things the next time I see her,” I cut in before Finnian can say anything else. I don’t want him dragging Saskia into his foul mood. “How long have you been preparing for the war?”
“Four years,” Ryder replies. “We started when Cayden became commander.”
“What’s different now than it was four years ago?” I press. Ryder’s gaze sweeps around the space we occupy, no doubt looking for signs of anyone lingering around us. We all stay quiet and strain our ears to pick up on the tiniest of sounds. Ryder’s dark eyes flash to mine, and I nod in confirmation that I also don’t hear anyone around us.
“We have on good authority that Garrick has been consorting with dark magic,” Ryder begins in a hushed tone, causing Finnian and me to lean forward. The news doesn’t surprise me. Garrick has consorted with mages, witches, priestesses, and sorcerers about breaking my dragon bond. But no matter who he sought out, none of them were successful. Dark magic is risky and unpredictable. “There’s a famine that’s been driving the people of Imirath to starvation. But what the people don’t know is that Garrick is causing the famine on his own accord.”
A shiver runs through me as I recall the harshest winter in Aestilian. Most of my time was spent wading through the snow to go on raids and hunts. Forcing myself to sleep was close to impossible when I knew so many citizens would starve if I didn’t manage to find food.
My hands tap against my legs, “He’s driving them to desperation.”
“He’s also telling his citizens that we placed a curse on them and that they need to push the border in order to gain fresh land,” Ryder adds.
“They can’t possibly believe that. Garrick is known to consort with magic, and Eagor despises it,” Finnian retorts. I look over at him and remember how skinny he became during that particular winter in Aestilian. The two of us have always been thin, but we were a far cry from healthy at that point.
A frown turns the corner of my lips while I recall the way his clothes hung on him, “People will believe anything when they have nothing. It’s why Garrick is taking everything away from them. He wants to control them.”
