Page 130 of Wrath of the Dragons
Finnian steps up beside me. “They’ll cower behind their walls as they send their soldiers to do their bidding.”
“Nobody will be left to guard their walls once the battle is over,” Cayden says.
“And I’ll smoke them out like the rodents they are if they try to hide,” I add.
“Fallon is mine,” Zarius states while climbing out of his rowboat, Ser Rhys and his king’s guard following. He didn’t touch a drop of alcohol on the journey home and trained on deck daily. He may not be the most skilled warrior, but he can hold his own. The illusion he created spared us substantial casualties and damage to the fleet, so anyone who denies his strength or request would be a fool.
“He’s yours to do with as you wish.”
He nods, but his shoulders don’t loosen.
“We should advance,” Ryder says. “I’m sure spies are in the woods, and we shouldn’t risk an ambush. It’ll take us at least two days to reach Zinambra if we stick to main roads and ride hard. The soldiers can rest when we reach the outskirts of the city.”
Cayden nods, gesturing General Autumn forward.
She bows. “My king.”
“Make sure the army is ready to march within the hour. We ride to battle.”
“I’ll see it done.” She slams her fist into her chest twice as she turns away from us to begin her task. Zale squints into the darkness of the town consisting of small stone cottages along winding roads. It reminds me of Avaloria, the coastal town in Vareveth we flew to after the battle was over. They’re not so different, and it’s the people who inhabit towns like this who are crushed under the weight of their rulers’ hubris and hatred. Candlelight flickers in the windows, adding a senseof life to the ghostly village. Snow floats down from the sky and coats roofs and overturned boats as smoke rises from chimneys.
“Do you see that?” Zale asks.
“See what?”
He juts his chin forward, walking with me until sand gives way to stone, and we begin hiking up a steep hill. Cayden, Ryder, Finnian, Saskia, and Zarius follow, not that I’d expect them to stay back. Not only are we in dangerous territory, but they’re all unbearably nosy.
“The Atarah colors are purple and gold, yes?” Zale asks.
“Yes,” I answer. “A purple banner with a golden trident spearing a crown.”
My breath puffs in front of my lips when I slow my steps and take in the sights around me. Strips of dark blue fabric are tied around doorknobs, and bed sheets stitched with the Veles sigil hang along laundry lines draping over the streets, billowing in the wintery breeze. One by one, curtains are drawn back, and several sets of eyes land on me standing in their street. I can feel their fear through the glass, and perhaps they’re wondering if we’re here to harm them. I’m sure my father has spread tales of my ruthless nature, forging me into a monster that would harm the innocent through his ire.
I stride toward the door closest to me, unwrapping the blue fabric from the knob and using my teeth to tie it around my palm. I press my hand over my heart before lifting in the air, wanting to show them that they’re safe from me, my dragons, and my army. A window creaks open, and a handful of ribbons in various shades of blue twirl through the air as they land beneath my boots.
“It’s Princess Elowen,” a little girl whispers.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I never thought I’d be welcomed in the land that was meant to be my home, but whoever sits on the throne doesn’t define what that kingdom is. The people and the culture are what breathes life into land.
I smile warmly at the young girl in the window and wave to her. More windows begin sliding open, and more ribbons and fabric scrapsjoin the others on the road.Princess Elowenis whispered until it becomes a cheer, a welcoming, and a reckoning all in one.
They grow bolder, coming out of their homes in long cloaks and boots once they see I’m not a threat. My group follows me on the road as I walk forward and freely through a kingdom that I was once a prisoner of. I thought I’d be received with hostility if I ever returned, but I’m received with warmth. I wonder what Garrick told them about me, if he said I’d burn their homes and slaughter their children. I’m aware I’ve done questionable things, but only what is necessary to survive in a world that has done everything in its power to remove me from it. I don’t remember the names and faces of all those who have tried to kill me, but here I stand, in Imirath.
In the kingdom I never thought I’d step foot in again, let alone rule.
The people do not call out for my father, they call out for me. The lost princess who has returned to take what is hers.
Chapter
Sixty-five
Cayden
We slow the horses afterriding 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.”
