Page 96 of Fear the Flames
“Maybe later,” I mutter into my mug while taking a long sip. The whetstone pauses on his blade, but he resumes the movements after a few seconds. When I sneak a glance in his direction, I can tell his jaw is clenched.
“I finished translating part of the dragon text,” Saskia declares, drumming her fingers against the desk. “It’s about the bond.”
My posture stiffens, and the room falls eerily silent. I’m thankful I haven’t eaten yet because my already on-edge nerves make my stomach churn. “What did it say?”
“It’s not bad. It’s just not exactly good.” I feel like I’m holding my breath as I wait for her to continue. “The bond isn’t broken; nobody can break it. But it can be…weakened.” I clutch my mug tighter.
“Weakened in what sense?” Cayden inquires. His tone is just as edged as my nerves.
“The dragons will know who you are, but they may not answer to you. You’ve been separated for most of your lives. But when you get back here, there’s a bond ceremony to strengthen it again.”
“I can’t do the ceremony when I walk into their chamber?” If I can’t do the ceremony there, then the dragons will have free rein, unleashed upon the world.
“No, it’s impossible. We need a fire priestess, and it’s a lengthy ceremony. The dragons also have to be willing participants. You can’t just force it onto them.”
“Will they even come here if we set them free?” I ask the question I’m sure everyone is wondering.
“They’ll find you. Their senses will lead them to you, even if they don’t follow you at first. The bond is part of an ancient prophecy, and the dragons always find their way back to the bond in every version of it.”
“It’s probably best if they don’t follow us at first,” I mumble, suddenly finding the rim of my coffee cup an interesting thing to set my gaze on. I know it shouldn’t feel embarrassing, but it does. It feels like my title is a mockery…that I’m a mockery. What if we’ve been separated for so long that I can’t revive the bond? What if they never choose me because I left them in Imirath at the mercy of my father? I wish there was a way I could have told them I didn’t want to leave them. My fingers trace the column of my throat, remembering the way it burned as I screamed and thrashed against Ailliard to get back to them.
“Shall we plan the return journey?” Saskia’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. I glance at Cayden, wanting him to answer this one. I don’t see the point in planning the return journey when so much unpredictability surrounds the heist. He meets my gaze, understanding my meaning behind it, and turns back to Saskia.
“I think the return journey will be up to Elowen and me.” He pauses, then says, “Depending on how everything goes.” He looks at me to approve his answer and turns back to sharpening his swords when I nod. The return journey depends on if we make it to the castle, if we get out of the castle, and what we’ll do if we get separated. There’s no point in planning something when we’re grasping at hundreds of possibilities.
The journey to the castle and heist were finalized last night. We plan on entering through the dungeon and killing any guards with as much stealth as possible. After that, we’ll have to find the Head Guard of Imirath, get the key, and get to the dragon chamber. We’ll have to wait for the first hours of morning before slipping in. There’s no sense trying to stay hidden in the middle of the day—it’s a death wish.
“Right,” Saskia mutters, looking down at her lap.
The rest of the evening is filled with finishing the coffee and pastries while avoiding any kind of heist talk. The lower the sun gets, the more anxious we all grow. None of us speak of our nerves, but it becomes apparent when there’s a lull in conversation or one of us spaces out. At some point, Cayden hands me a plain pastry and urges me to take at least a few bites. I’m normally a fast eater, a habit I developed after years of not having food regularly at my disposal. Whenever food is in front of me, I feel like I must eat it before it disappears. But it takes me at least an hour to finish the soft buttery bread.
Eventually, the sun leaves the sky, and some soldiers make their way to their tents. The soldiers that patrol the lines at night will be unavoidable, but it’s a risk we’ll have to take. If Cayden ordered everyone to stay inside, not only would it be suspicious, but it would leave Vareveth vulnerable. We’ll cut into the forest located to the right of us and ride to the cross point through there.
When the conversation lulls once again, nobody begins a new one. The tension is so thick in the tent it’s almost suffocating. It’s well past midnight judging by how quiet it is outside. I strapped my swords on a few hours ago, and my satchel sits at my feet. My shaking hand grasps the leather strap and lift it while we all stand.
“I’ll ride with you to the border so I can take the horses back,” Ryder declares. We won’t be able to travel on horseback; they would make too much noise when we first cross the border. In order to stay hidden, we’ll have to stick to the shadows the trees provide, and we won’t be able to do that while riding.
“I’m coming too,” Finnian says, staring directly at me.
“As am I,” Saskia finishes.
I take them all in; their determined expressions mingle with helplessness. I would feel the same if I was in their position. Together, we walk out of the tent and to the five horses tied to the post in front. I swing myself onto the same tan horse I rode here a few weeks ago. I’ve been riding her to and from the Inner Kingdom. She’s very well-tempered, unlike some of the other horses I’ve ridden that have tried to buck me into thorn bushes.
Cayden leads the ride and is flanked by Ryder, Finnian stays next to me, and Saskia brings up the rear. We all stay silent as we ride. We break the tree line and are surrounded by nearly complete darkness. I can see why Ryder chose to fight here when they charged yesterday. The density of the trees lets close to no moonlight shine through. Cayden and I are also wearing all black, which can only help our coverage.
Cayden holds his hand up, signaling us to stop our horses. Finnian lets out a shuddering breath beside me before dismounting. It’s so quiet in the forest. It’s almost eerie. It’s the same feeling you get while watching a storm roll in. Finnian steps in front of our horses and pulls me into his chest. I wrap my arms around his waist and breathe in his familiar citrus scent. We stay like this, locked together, holding onto the one person that became family when we were both alone in the world.
"You didn’t forget to take your tonic this month, right? You tend to forget to take care of yourself when you’re overwhelmed. You won’t be able to have the tea that sometimes helps your cramps while you’re in Imirath, and sometimes your hands shake from the pain so your aim will be off.”
“I took my tonic,” I gently quiet Finnian’s anxious rambling. “It’s already a few days into the month so I should be okay.” He sniffles and mutters a curse above me. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Tomorrow?” he asks in mock hope.
“Hmm….” I pull away from him and reach up to wipe the tears off his freckle-filled cheeks. “Maybe the next day.” He looks down at me with ocean eyes and smiles through his emotions. He must notice the change in my features because his smile leaves as quickly as it formed.
“What?” he demands.
I lick my lips, hating that I must do this. “There’s a letter.”
