Page 90 of Fear the Flames
“Yes,” I answer firmly. I recall the sight and scent of Robick’s blood as it pooled on the floor, my skin, on the hand that Cayden stroked my face with, and how it danced along Cayden’s soft lips. I recall how Robick slumped on the floor after I slit his throat. The sounds he made as Cayden slit his eyes, rendering him blind.
“Whatever you did, he still deserved worse,” Finnian adds darkly.
“I agree,” Cayden states, and Ryder solemnly nods his head, all traces of mischief gone.
My chest tightens at their show of support. For the longest time, Ailliard would shoot me down whenever I brought up revenge. He would tell me it’s a miserable way to waste my life or that I’ll never step foot in Imirath again, so there was no point in dreaming. He told me that revenge fills no one, and he was correct. I haven’t had my fill of revenge yet. I’ve only received my first taste of it, and I want more.
“Do you have an archers line prepared for the charge?” Finnian asks Cayden. He nods in response. “I’ll shoot with them with your permission.”
“Permission granted,” Cayden says. The archer’s line is behind the charge, so my chest doesn’t fill with the worry it would if he asked to be in the charge itself. Finnian has always favored his arrows in the same way I prefer my daggers.
“You’re sure?” I ask. Neither of us has seen a battle, and I want to make sure he’s ready for this.
“Killing more of them gives you a better chance when you cross the border.” He pulls his hands from the table and raises himself to his full height. He turns to face me, his eyes pleading, “Let me help you in any way I can.” I know I have no right to persuade him away from the charge other than selfish reasons. He reaches out to affectionately squeeze my arm, “Are you okay?” His eyes have gone a shade softer to match his softer tone.
“I’m okay,” I answer honestly. I’m a little unsettled after seeing Robick’s face again, but I’m okay. “Shoot straight, bloodthirsty archer,” I let amusement trickle into my tone and lightly shove his chest.
“I’ll find you as soon as it’s over.” He leans down to kiss the top of my head before heading out of the tent.
“Some of our archers are stationed where I’ll be. I observe Imirath’s numbers and any changes they make in weapons, rank, charge patterns, the whole lot,” Saskia directs her words to me. “I’ll ride down to the first line with Finnian now.” She shoves a few pens and a small notebook into the back pocket of her pants. “Both of you, be careful,” she looks between Cayden and Ryder.
“We always are,” Cayden says with a slight tilt to his lips.
“That’s not comforting,” she groans, leaving through the same exit Finnian had moments ago.
“The lack of faith is refreshing,” Ryder huffs a laugh. “You ready?”
“Yes,” Cayden confirms, turning toward the front of the tent. He never told me about his role in all of this, and I think he’s avoiding it. Before he can take two steps away from the desk, I hurry toward him and seize his hand in mine. He halts his steps and angles his body to face me. He doesn’t hold my hand back, but I don’t let him go.
“Why did Saskia tell you to be safe?” I ask, though it comes out as a command.
“Because she doesn’t want me to get hurt,” he sarcastically replies.
“Cayden,” I warn, not in the mood for his jokes. He deeply sighs and grinds his jaw.
“Wait outside,” he tells Ryder without removing his gaze from mine. Neither of us speak before Ryder leaves the tent. “I’m leading one of the charges.” His monotone voice does nothing to ease my spike of emotions.
“You can’t!” I nearly shout. “We leave tomorrow. We’re so close, and you’re just going to lead a charge?”
“I have to find a way for us to get through their line.” He licks his lips and runs his free hand through his hair. “The border is long; I’ll be riding to a part where the fighting isn’t as thick, and Ryder will be riding in the other direction. But we can’t get to the dragons if we can’t get through their line.” Cayden squeezes my hand lightly and rubs his thumb over my knuckles.
“Then I’m coming with you.” I try to pull my hand from his while I step toward the exit, but he keeps our hands joined and yanks me backward, pressing my back into his chest. He wraps one of his strong arms around me; his scent overwhelms me, as do the memories of last night.
“No, angel. You know you can’t.”
“If you wanted a docile queen, then you should have made a deal with someone else,” I argue. His proximity is taking the bite out of my tone.
His chuckle vibrates against my back. “Why would I waste my time on someone lesser than you?”
His praise makes a fluttery feeling rise in my chest. I crane my neck to glance up at him. “They wouldn’t be giving you a headache right now.”
“I’ll take a tonic then.” His statement is humorous, but his near whispering tone feels more like a caress than a joke. “I won’t be able to focus if I don’t know for certain that you’re safe.” His admission causes the fluttering sensation in my chest to heighten. I shove his arm away from my waist and spin to face him. It’s easier to do this when he’s not pressed up against me.
“That sounds like a problem for you, not me.” Although my words hold harshness, my resolve is weakening. I know I can’t go near the Imirath line, and I have no urge to be captured.
“Yes, it is my problem.” He leans forward, and my body urges me to arch into him, keep him distracted, keep him here. “Stay here.” He scans my face once more like he’s committing it to memory before brushing past me and slipping out of the tent.
“Is she alright?” Ryder asks.
