Page 30 of Wrath of the Dragons
My coat is already off by the time I reach her, and her head shoots up when I wrap it around her. “What happened? Why are you crying?”
A feral growl tears free of her lips as she rips the coat off and shoves it at my chest. “I don’t want you here.”
She’s not sleeping. She’s barely eating. She’s lost in her mind most of the time and I need to pull her out of it. I clutch the coat, not letting it fall in the snow because I’m getting this damn thing on her. She covers her mouth, eyes widening in fear as they flash back to the house. “Nobody can hear you but me. I’ve given you space when you asked for it in the past, but I’m done with that because clearly it’s not working.”
“You don’t get to hurt me and be privy to my every thought.” She angrily swats some of her tears away.
“I can’t fix anything if you don’t talk to me.”
“Talk to you?” She laughs shrilly. “Communication was the one thing I asked of you and emphasized the importance of, and you blindsided me in a room filled with enemies, so you don’t get to stand there and speak to me as if I’m the one who faltered.” Her breath clouds in front of her lips, coming out in short gasps. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I request space because it pains me to look at you?” Lightning shoots through my chest, making it hard to breathe,but I don’t let it show on my face. “You have always wanted power, and I will not be your pawn as you grasp for it.”
“Which is why I made you my queen.” I step forward, forcing her arms through the coat as she struggles against me. “Keep it on,” I state in a low growl before releasing her. She can fight with me until the sun rises but not unless she’s warm. If this were any other moment, I’d laugh at how large it is on her, but I have a feeling she’d castrate me if I smiled. “The voice in your head telling you that I utilized the marriage clause because I wanted to be king more than I wanted you isn’t mine.”
She flinches, tightening her arms around her middle again. “Don’t talk about Ailliard.”
“I didn’t say his name, love.” She shakes her head again, and I wonder if Ailliard is in there right now. I’ll never understand how someone I completely adore could see herself so terribly. “I have been in much worse positions in life, so yes, I have taken to the role of king and will do whatever is necessary. I was born with nearly nothing and even that was taken from me before I rebuilt myself brick by brick. If I fail at being king, if I even falter and give our enemies an opening to exploit, I will lose you. I will lose everything I’m not willing to let go. You are my priority and mine to protect, not a throne or a kingdom.”
She sucks in a sharp breath and rubs at her chest, squeezing her eyes shut as she shakes her head. Years of conditioning have taught her to view herself as someone to only give love and never receive it. She’ll offer pieces of herself on a platter until she has nothing left to give, but it ends with me.
“A crown is an ornament, nothing more than a gilded lie. It’s worth nothing against a sword, and only armies keep it on a ruler’s head. I may have kept to the shadows, but I ruled from them, and I’ve never needed the validation of the world. Power isn’t given, it’s taken.”
She sobs, and it breaks something in me I didn’t know was whole. I step forward, risking her ire by framing her cheeks in my hands. She doesn’t pull away, but she also doesn’t move closer. “I conquered a kingdom to have you. It was the only way.”
“You manipulated Eagor. You manipulate everyone around you toget what you want.” She shoves at my chest, her anger returning despite it clearly exhausting her. “I must’ve been an easy target. A woman who never knew love aside from her best friend. You dangled the moon on a string, and I grasped for it like a fool.” Her next words are growled through her teeth, “I will not close my eyes and accept treatment I don’t deserve just because I want to be with you.”
“You think I manipulatedyou?” I ask incredulously and drag a hand down my face. Elowen’s anger is cold, but her heart is warm and light. She loves fiercely and hurts deeply because of it. I never want to change a damn thing about her, I just want to be the one to protect that heart. I want it to be safe with me. “If I was manipulating you, I would’ve demanded you marry me before we freed your dragons, knowing you would have. All hells, Elowen. If I manipulated you, I wouldn’t have ruined myself in the process. I wouldn’t be tormented every hour that passes by knowing it’s another spent with this distance between us.”
She keeps shaking her head, the frustration evident on her features. She’s been told empty words all her life; I can’t blame her for doubting whatever I say. I unsheathe the dragon dagger on her thigh and wrap her fingers around the hilt, keeping mine over hers and holding the blade against my neck.
“What are you doing?!”
“It appears we’re at an impasse.” Her hand trembles under my grip but I hold firm. “Kill me if you truly hate me so much for what I’ve done. I have no regrets when it comes to you, and I refuse to die by anyone else’s hand. I’ve been slowly dying since the moment I saw you, so it seems fitting for you to be the one to deliver my end. For as long as I live, you will never be free of me and even in death I will do everything in my power to haunt you.”
The blade stays pressed against my neck after I release her fingers, and I lean into the sharp edge. Elowen sucks in a sharp breath and her chest heaves as I lean down and slide my fingers through her curls as beads of blood begin dripping down my skin. Her eyes dart between the blade and my gaze, her brows knotting when my lips hover an inch above hers.
“Make your choice, sirantia, because all I have ever chosen is you.”
Each tear that drips down her cheeks is like another blade piercing my flesh. “Do you want to know the worst of it? If you had told me you wanted to be king, I would’ve fought for you. I would’ve married you if it got you what you wanted. After everything you’ve done for me and my dragons, I would’ve.”
“I didn’t want it to be like this.” My loyalty may be blood-soaked, but it has always been hers. Elowen is the light in my life, the only good part of me. She’s the silence in the mayhem. “I’ll sacrifice myself at your altar a thousand times over to be the man you deserve, knowing I’ll always fall short because a man good enough for you doesn’t exist.”
She remains silent, moonlight illuminating the tears that flow like rivers down her cheeks. I hate tears, they’ve always made me uncomfortable, but these fill me with a feral desperation to make this right. She’s the only exception, and I have no fucking idea how she managed it. Sorin curls around her, making sorrowful noises deep in his throat. It sounds like the tune Elowen hums to calm them on occasion.
She must recognize it because it makes her sob again as she drops the blade to her side. “You know I can’t do it. No matter what’s happened, I can’t.”
“Come here,” I mutter before hoisting her into the air and wrapping her legs around my waist. She collapses against me as I walk us back to the house, clinging to me so tightly, like she’s as desperate for this as I am. Her body continues shaking as I walk her through the hall and set her down on the bed. I add another log to the fire before riffling through my bag to find the tin I need and tilt Elowen’s chin up. “I’m going to give you a few moments to get ready for bed while I make you some tea. Just call out if you need anything.”
She nods, her eyes dry but vacant of the vibrancy I’ve come to adore, and I can’t stop myself from pressing my lips to her forehead before leaving. I hang my head, wanting to throttle someone, something, anything, as I place the bronze kettle over the fire still burning from earlier. The tin clatters on the kitchen counter, and I drop myhead into my hands. No matter how angry Elowen is, she can’t hate me more than I hate myself.
A door down the hall creaks open and I straighten my spine, wiping the emotion from my face. Finnian saunters around the bend in his night clothes, glancing at my neck. “Do I want to know?”
“Even if you did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
He snickers while picking up the tin to read it. “Chamomile and lavender?”
“It’s supposed to help anxiety.”
“For you?” he asks, despite knowing the answer, so I don’t dignify the question with a response. “You’re in love with my sister.”
