Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

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C AYDEN SETS ME DOWN IN HIS BATHING CHAMBER AND turns the dials on the tub. "Use whatever you want. I'll grab you something to change into."

"Is this your usual suite?" I ask when he returns, setting some clothes on the counter.

"I don't have chambers in the castle. I prefer my own space." He shuts the door behind him, and I force the water to be loud enough to cancel out my thoughts, not that it entirely succeeds. I lather myself in Cayden-scented suds and wash the remaining blood from my skin. The clothes he brought in must be his because not only do the sleeves fall past my hands and the pants pool at my feet, but the scent of them is dangerously alluring.

Cayden is sitting on an emerald couch with a glass of whiskey when I enter, and his gaze lifts from the report he's reading, his smirk gliding against the rim as he takes a sip. "Perfect fit."

I sink onto the couch beside him and bunch the fabric up to flip him off. He leans forward to pour me a cup of tea from the tray he must have ordered while I was washing up. I mumble a thank-you and quickly down the cup, letting the soothing liquid coat my throat before pouring a second.

"How many assassins have tried to kill you?" His tone is quiet, but I don't mistake it for calm. Cayden is the type of person to lock down his anger and weaponize it when needed.

I lick my lips and place the cup on the table to fuss with the sleeves that pool around my hands. There's no sense in avoiding it. "My father didn't know for sure if I was dead or alive, so it was only a few, and never within Aestilian borders. They stopped around the time I turned fifteen. Sometimes I itched for the fight, just to make me feel something." I stopped worrying about assassins years ago when I realized I could be as deadly as them. "That's not what I wanted to talk about."

The last thing I want to do is rehash my past with Cayden. Talking about it can't erase what happened to me. I want to move forward. Sometimes, when I don't talk about it, I feel I can ignore it, even if it's only temporary. Our bodies are maps of our pasts, but not every scar is physically marked along the journey. Those invisible scars can bleed like open wounds on bad days.

"Right." He clears his throat and closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again, the quiet rage is filed away, hidden from the surface, and locked down for later use. "Shall we discuss when you were about to shove me onto the dance floor at the tavern?"

"I was going to shove you away. "

His eyes dance with mischief. "Would you like me to twirl you around the room, princess?"

I reach for a pillow behind me and smack it into his face, muffling his laughter until I pull it back and continue my assault. He grips my wrists before I can hit him a fourth time and drags me back down beside him. "I told you I could land a hit, demon."

"I don't dance, but I'll make sure no pillows are around the next time I reject your advance." He doesn't remove his eyes from my smile and takes a sip of whiskey to sober himself.

"Let's talk before someone brings you a report," I say as I calm myself down. "The night we first met, I heard two people talking about you wanting me because of my dragons. If that wasn't Saskia and Ryder, who was it?"

"It was them," Cayden confirms. "Saskia was with us for the first leg of the journey. After a few days, she traveled back with a group of soldiers because she had a political meeting she couldn't miss. All they know is that I want you here because of your link to the dragons, but they've known me for years so I'm sure they have their suspicions. Did you find what you were looking for in the dragon book we stole?"

I flinch when he mentions the book, and I spy his fingers inching toward me before he thinks better of it and remains where he is. I'm sure his question has no malicious intent, but the chuckle that escapes me is anything but genuine while I reach for the whiskey in his hand and place my lips where his were. His gaze darkens, and it feels oddly intimate as I hand it back to him.

"You'll think me a fool," I whisper, staring at the floor.

"I won't," he responds quietly, the fire crackling beside us as he waits for me to continue. "Why did we steal the book, El?"

"Most dragon books contain fictional stories of quests and battles, and many are illustrated by famous artists all throughout Ravaryn. Sometimes I steal the books in hopes of finding a dragon illustration that resembles mine. I rarely leave Aestilian without Finnian and didn't want to waste the opportunity, considering he and I don't discuss the dragons. It's not vital to the heist, and I nearly threw it into a fire when I got to the last page. I didn't need you there, but you're annoyingly insistent." My chest feels tight, and I pour some whiskey into the teacup. "I search every corner of the world for a sign that my dragons are okay, but I've never found one. It was a hope of mine that Garrick invited an artist to a feast and let them sketch one. I'd recognize their scales anywhere."

He's quiet for a few moments, subtly shifting closer to me, and says, "Tell me about them."

I smile down at my teacup, but it's all wrong. Sometimes I feel as if I'll break under the weight of my memories. "Their scales are . . . captivating, especially when they're in the sun. There are two males, Sorin and Basilius. Sorin is emerald green with black-tipped wings and horns, and Basilius is pure lavender. Then there are the females: Venatrix, Calithea, and Delmira. Venatrix is crimson with pink and gold markings. Calithea is silver with white-tipped wings that look like snowflakes. Delmira is sky blue, like a perfect summer day, with yellow markings. Their eyes match their dominant colors: green, lavender, red, silver, and blue."

It's moments like this where I can feel every mile separating us. I'm filled to the brim with love for them, but it has nowhere to go and sits in my chest like grief. Sadness and pain are the price we pay for opening our hearts, but I'd rather die penniless than never know love.

"Elowen." The way Cayden says my name forces my gaze to his again. "I swear on all that I have and all that I've lost, you will see your dragons again."

I close my eyes, nodding as I force the storm raging inside me to pass, and inhale a sharp breath while standing up from the couch in search of something to occupy my mind. The desk piled high with maps looks like the perfect solution. "This is Kallistar Prison?"

I hate that he's looking at me with a calculating gaze, ready to decipher any statement I make and file it in his brain for future reference. His calculating expression is hardly different from his impassive expression; he probably doesn't even realize I can decipher it. The only difference is that his right brow is slightly higher than his left, and sometimes his lips pinch in the corner—but he never does either simultaneously.

"It is." He comes to stand beside me, his long fingers trailing over the map, capturing my attention far more than they should. "We'll have to wait for low tide before rowing there, or else we'll get shredded by the rocks."

I pause for a moment to erase that image from my mind. "I can use hunting down those involved in the assassination attempt as an excuse for my absence. We should leave tomorrow. Garrick is moving fast, so should we."

He tenses beside me, and the heat of his temper radiates off his body. "Anyone guilty won't live to see another sunrise."

I dryly swallow and fumble the maps on the desk, so unused to the protectiveness lacing his tone. "Just don't make a spectacle of killing the guilty parties. Let me tell Finnian about the heist in my own time, and he'll be suspicious if I disappear without a reason. We've been removed from the world for our entire friendship. I can't just throw everything at him and expect him to be fine."

Time moves slowly as I wait for him to respond, and I turn to face him. He looks ready to shoot me down, but something relents when he takes in my features, his eyes trailing down the bruises and where his clothes cover me. "Fine. We'll leave tomorrow."

I clear my throat. "You've started looking at maps of the castle as well?"

"Garrick is rigorous with security. His castle didn't earn the title ‘the Impenetrable Fortress' for nothing. We need to find a way in that won't be under heavy guard."

I bite my lip while regarding several maps. I wasn't allowed in most parts of the castle, save the dungeon and throne room on occasion after my imprisonment, and I don't remember much of the layout. Even when I was allowed in the throne room, I was blindfolded while walking through the halls. I wonder if the seer who relayed the prophecy saw this, me, aligning myself with Imirath's enemy. One of the maps catches my eye, and I pluck it from the surface. It's a map of the eastern side of the castle that leads to the Etril Forest. It's where Ailliard and I fled from, but the exit we took is missing.

"Where did you get this?" I ask.

"Saskia drew it. She has spies in Imirath." His voice is close; he's peering over my shoulder. "I'll have to tell her about the heist soon."

"I know." It's good she has spies there; they'll have more knowledge than I do. I won't be able to offer much, but I can present this small piece of information. "There's an exit missing." I place the map on the desk again and grab a quill from an ink pot. "There"—I circle the spot on the map—"it leads to the dungeon."

Cayden's brows scrunch together while he drags a hand through his hair. "For what purpose?"

"To smuggle goods into the castle during sieges, but it hasn't been used in years. No guards were stationed there during my time in Imirath. It's so dark in the dungeon you can hardly see the door against the stone unless you're down there long enough for your eyes to adjust." Cayden stiffens beside me. I forgot I'm talking to someone who hangs on to every syllable that comes out of my mouth.

"I'll have Saskia investigate it in a few days." I'm thankful he doesn't pry further. "Now, on to the next matter of business. I think we should adopt the same plan as the prison and keep the dragon heist just the two of us."

"I agree," I respond without a moment's hesitation. I've already thought this through since the night Cayden and I met in the forest. I would never ask Finnian to accompany me into Imirath, I don't want him there, and I'm not dumb enough to think I can go alone. If Cayden betrays me, at least I'll be close enough to my dragons to burn him. "Just you and me."

"Just you and me," he echoes. A knock rattles the door against its hinges, and we straighten behind the desk. "Enter."

The door practically flies open and bangs into the wall.

Finnian surges forward, eyes on me. "Thank the gods." It's the only thing I hear before he latches his arms around me and lifts me off my feet in an embrace I feel throughout my entire body. He shoves his head into the crook of my neck, and a sob vibrates against my skin. The noise makes me feel like someone stabbed me through the heart. "Ryder told me you were fine, but I needed to see you."

"I'm fine, I promise," I murmur while running my fingers through his curls. His tears soak the collar of my shirt. "I would've found you, but I thought you were asleep."

"I heard the guards moving around, and then I saw Ryder in the hall. He told me someone tried to kill you," Finnian says while setting me on my feet and moving his hands to my shoulders as if he still needs to reassure himself that I'm here. "What happened to your neck?"

"I'll explain later." I reach up to wipe his cheeks. "We'll go over the report, and then we'll talk."

He lets out a shaky breath before nodding. He spins me on my heels and wraps his arms around my shoulders while placing his chin on top of my head. I stay locked in his arms while Ryder gets ready to give the report. Finnian is big on physical reassurance, so his need to hold me is something I expect.

"I'm going to say the worst part first," Ryder begins, a grimace contorting his face. "Garrick placed a bounty on your head, and it's high enough to make even the holiest person in Ravaryn contemplate murder." Finnian stiffens behind me, and Cayden tosses back the remainder of his whiskey. The tension in the room rises with the stakes of the game we're playing. It's something all of us expected, but not this quickly.

"How paternal of him to think I'm worth so much."

"I'd place a bounty on his head if it were worth it," Cayden states while strapping a sword around his waist.

"Why isn't it worth it?" Finnian asks, but I have a feeling I already know the answer.

"An assassin would be quick. Garrick deserves a slow, painful death," Cayden says with the same level of informality as someone ordering a pint.

"Not quick like drowning," I joke, but I'm met with two glares, and Finnian's arms tighten around me. "Okay, too soon. Noted."

"The assassin tonight was dressed like a servant, which is why the guards in front of the suite didn't suspect anything. I think he slipped in during the banquet and bided his time before making a move. The perimeter is secured, but we'll have to go into town to find more answers," Ryder finishes.

"We'll head there now," Cayden states, tossing on his leather jacket and a broadsword across his back. "I'm changing the guards by the door and ordering them not to let anyone into the room, no matter who they are. The previous guards will await a punishment I deem fit. I want to start with the man who spilled a drink on Elowen at the tavern."

Ryder purses his lips, waiting for Cayden to explain.

"He knew she would be in the bath when we returned." Cayden looks at me from across the room, scanning me from head to toe. He opens his mouth before closing it again, looking conflicted, almost like he doesn't want to leave my side. "If you need me, hand a letter off to a servant, and I'll come back."

Part of me wants to offer to go with him, but I need space to sort myself out. I let my eyes glance over him even though I know I should turn away now. "Be safe."