Page 90 of Wrath of the Dragons
“We’ve gone on stealth missions before,” Ryder answers. “We’ll lower the sails that have the Veles sigil on them. Elowen can command the dragons to stay out of sight, and we can be in and out of the city before the royals know. It’s not as if Elowen and Cayden have visited here as king and queen before. Nobody will know their faces.”
When the others aren’t looking, Ryder offers me an apologetic glance, and I nod in response. I know he regrets his earlier words, but I’m not one for sappy apologies.
A servant carries in a tray of beef stew filled with sweet potatoes, carrots, onions, and other vegetables. The hearty scent fills the cabin as he sets it down. Finnian turns even greener than before, but I don’t waste time before ripping into a warm loaf of bread and dipping it into my bowl.
“How are you eating right now?” Finnian grumbles.
“With my mouth,” I flatly state.
“Galakin holds the gods in high regard, especially the Goddess of Flames. Their society is built around fire and light magic,” Ryder begins. “You were both marked during your wedding, the ritual, and with Elowen’s newfound ability to wield dragonfire—”
“Why didn’t any of you start with that? Who gives a fuck about the prince?” I turn to fully face Elowen. “You wielded dragonfire?”
Elowen’s mouth opens and shuts several times, and a nervous laugh escapes her as she glances around the room. “Sort of?”
“How do yousort ofwield fire?”
“Listen, I don’t know how I did it. I sat beside a candle for several hours last night and tried to pull the flames toward me but didn’t feel anything. It could’ve been a fluke or a result of the ritual. I remember my rage amplifying after I knew you were healed, and the power felt like it would make my body combust if I didn’t expel it.”
“Try again.” Ryder shoves the lantern toward her where a single flame flickers through the glass. “Or we could go up to the deck if you’d like to use dragonfire, and we’ll cheer you on while you get to it.”
“What a brilliant idea,” Elowen drawls. “Let me just pull magical fire to me as I stand on a wooden ship in the middle of an ocean.”
He snaps his fingers. “Noted. Not my best plan, I’ll admit that.”
“What happened after you wielded it?” Fucking hells, I can’t believe I missed this.
“I was able to pry into the wards, and I would’ve kept going if we hadn’t been planning to leave Vareveth, but the wards will help keep them out of our territory. I couldn’t hold on to it, though. I’m hoping to be able to observe some of the Galakin mages and practice their techniques. In the meantime, I’ll continue strengthening the connection to my dragons. Seeing through their eyes can’t light the ship on fire and the more I do it the easier it’ll become.” She inhales deeply. “Soldiers on both sides knelt to me. It caused chaos within the Imirath and Thirwen ranks. I declared that I’m coming for my throne.”
“You’re…incredible,” I say, unable to tear my eyes away from her face. Her blush deepens, and she sits forward in her chair to escape my intense gaze. I’ll see her wield it one day. She may think it was a fluke, but I’m convinced this woman is made of magic.
“Has there been any news of the southern isles since the initial rebellion?” Finnian asks.
“No,” Saskia responds. “All is quiet for now, but silence can shatter in a second.”
Chapter
Forty-five
Elowen
Delmira spirals and slips downfrom the clouds, dragging her claws through the glittering sea beside the ship. Sailing has provided me with an excuse to slip away at all hours of the day to fly. I spend more time on dragonback than I do aboard the vessel. Part of the reason for that is how strange Cayden has been the past few days, but I don’t need much convincing before mounting one of my fiery beasts.
He’s not avoiding me exactly. He’s never too far, and we share a cabin on board, but he’s noticeably quiet. Volatile. Like a dormant volcano or a storm churning on the horizon. I can tell he’s working through something within his mind, and I want to grant him the same patience he’s given me, but I feel as if I’m tiptoeing along the edge of a cliff.
I still haven’t asked Cayden about the sheet music in his desk, but given how closed off he’s been, I don’t think it’s the time to admit I snooped through his belongings.
Delmira cuts above Sorin, camouflaging herself within the sky to ambush him, but the menace himself is never one to turn down a challenge. He roars when he notices her, locking claws with her as they tumble and twist toward the water below. I laugh as butterflies erupt in my stomach, and they separate only inches from the surface. Theyfly in a wide arc and nuzzle their snouts once they meet in the middle, much calmer than before.
I blink the dizziness away as Delmira evens out, keeping pace with the ship as I pull a book from the satchel I threw over my shoulder and lie on my stomach. I trace the gold-foiled mermaid on the cover as it shimmers before diving into the story. The gloves covering my hands make it a bit hard to flip the pages, but the weather is slowly starting to warm as we get farther into our journey. The first two days were nothing but rain. I still managed to fly above the clouds to avoid the storm but also spent time indoors playing drinking games with Finnian and Ryder while Cayden begrudgingly played the rickety and out-of-tune piano for Saskia and me to swing each other around the tiny cabin.
I repeat the same actions the next day but need only a sweater, and by the sixth day into our journey, I’m wearing a light pink gown made of flowy chiffon with cutouts along the sides and drooping fabric that leaves my arms bare but cuffs around my wrists. I trace one of the lavender lines swirling around my arm as I sun myself on Sorin’s scales. The sky is painted in shades of fire as its last rays burn the day away. If I could have dinner up here, I would, but considering I packed both breakfast and lunch along with several snacks, I suppose it’s best to show my face at some point.
I command Sorin to drop me off on deck, but he does the opposite and increases his altitude. “Sorin.” I draw out his name like I’m scolding a guilty child, and he huffs before complying. “Goodnight, my sweet boy.”
I slide down his extended wing and my slipper-clad feet smack into the deck as I find my balance. My eyes are on the sky when I hear him. “You’re avoiding me.”
Cayden is leaning against the railing beside the bow, wearing a white linen shirt that billows in the wind. The arrowhead necklace he’s never taken off rests within the shirt’s deep V neckline, and themarkings swirling along his muscles are visible through the semi-translucent fabric. His loose black pants are tucked into boots, the same style he’s worn every day since I met him, and a bandanna holds his hair back from his face. The sea suits him.
