Page 92 of A Crown of Tears and Treason
What was this? This boiling feeling that made me want to pace and mull in bed all at the same time?
Adara approached, stopping behind me.
“The Dragon will return,” she whispered. “No whispers in the ports about his whereabouts, but I don’t need to be the Oracle of the Shuddering Isles to know he will come back.”
“Who’s that?”
“An all-knowing creature that is best avoided.”
My only reply was another punch that left fresh wounds on my knuckles and splinters digging into the mangled flesh.
I knewIwanted Zandyr to come back, more than I expected. But was Isupposedto?
This was the crown prince I’d been raised to hide from my entire life. A cynical part of me, that sounded just like my parents, told me to be glad he left. I could run away.
Where? And to what? Allie, who was stuck in an icy kingdom? My other cousins, so caught up in their own problems that even Allie struggled to get hold of them? Or back to Aquila and the Protectorate high command, to watch Silas bumble his way through destroying my ancestral Clan?
Running away wouldn’t bring me closer to avenging my parents’ deaths or finding answers.
My mood didn’t lighten even after Adara threw me on my ass three times, to “make sure I get all the unsettled energy out of you”.
But I tried to brighten up for Allie.
“Breathe,” her soothing voice echoed in my library. “Imagine yourself in a calm, peaceful space. Maybe on top of one of your mountains at the cabin.”
I struggled to keep my eyes closed like she’d instructed. I wanted to pace and wring my fingers. This was ridiculous. “That brings anythingbutpeace.”
“Oh. Then pick a place where you feel comfortable.”
Did such a thing exist? Perhaps grandpa Constantine’s estate. Then again, I’d almost drowned in his pool, so not the best choice. All I could remember was the water pressing againstme. Constricting. Numbing. My lungs burning as I couldn’t breach the surface.
“Riding Zorin,” I said, the fear of suffocating replaced with the sweet breeze flowing through my hair. If I concentrated hard enough, I’d hear his thunderous galops against the frozen ground. The memory pounded at the tension inside me until it subsided.
“Good. Imagine the rustle of the leaves and the crunch of twigs as your horse runs,” Allie murmured, lulling me further into the fantasy.
“Zorin. His name is Zorin.”
“Zorin. Feel the sun heating your cheeks. Hear his neighs. Smell the leather of the harness.”
My fingers flexed, wanting to grip his luxurious mane.
“That’s it.” Allie murmured, tranquil as a brook–which iced over with her next words. “Now imagine Zorin dying, blood splattering everywhere.”
My eyes flew open. “What the–”
“Eyes closed. Do it. Imagine your beloved Zorin dying.”
I squinted my eyes shut, face tightening. The image of Zorin crumbling underneath me flooded my mind.
Only we weren’t in the forest anymore.
We were at the cabin.
Flames rose high, as if to sear the sky itself.
My parents lay lifeless on the ground, blood gushing from their necks.
A hoard of masked assassins rose from the smoke.
