Chapter Twenty-Eight

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

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I DON'T KNOW WHAT I THOUGHT THE BORDER WOULD LOOK like . . . but it wasn't this. I expected something darker and drearier—wounded soldiers everywhere and unanswered cries for help on a never-ending loop. But it's fairly pleasant once you get over the fact that it's a war camp.

Cayden, who now walks beside me, explained that there are three lines within the camp. We're in the third line. The first is defense, the second is medical, and the last is supplies and residential. They even have taverns and markets back here—no permanent structures, just larger tents where soldiers can congregate.

"There's something I have to tell you." Cayden's words send anxiety shooting through me. I hate when people say that. It would be much less nerve-racking for them to just say it rather than add a buildup to their statement. "Saskia and Ryder know."

I stop in my tracks, and my mouth hangs open. "When did you tell them?"

"I let it slip when you were passed out." He grins at my expression. Cayden is too careful to let something slip; if he were a book you'd be lucky to get a glimpse at the prologue, but he hasn't inquired about my conversation with Finnian, so I won't prod into his familial affairs. "Saskia figured out what we were planning when we came back from the prison, and she and Ryder had a bet about who would reveal it first."

"Did they bet that you would?" The dimples deepening in his cheeks tell me everything I need to know. "Those bastards."

I'm ready to start my day now that I'm fed and caffeinated and continue the path toward our tent. The word our sounds too personal for our situation, but it's the word that fits.

"Not so fast, angel." Cayden's hand brushes against my elbow, causing me to jump slightly. He retracts the touch and gestures to the tent on his right. "This is where I take meetings now."

Another gathering to discuss another person who tried to kill me—a new tradition. I'm mesmerized by a fire blazing in a circular bronze pit at the center of the tent, considering that smoke should be wafting throughout the space.

"It's enchanted," Cayden states behind me. "There's one in your room."

I walk over to warm my hands and prove to myself that there truly is no smoke. "It's ingenious."

"It adjusts to the temperature in the air. If it's a cold night, the fire will adapt to keep your room warm." He takes a seat at the head of a long table, breaking the seal on a letter before opening his round reading glasses with his teeth, looking entirely too enticing. "However, you're always welcome in my bed if you're feeling particularly cold."

I pretend to be considering his offer by tapping my finger against my lips, drawing his eyes exactly where I want them. "I'd rather not tumble in the sheets with a criminal." He mercifully doesn't mention last night or my own crimes. "How many laws do you evade?"

"Any law that cuts into my investments or power, vexes me, or I deem irrelevant. Would you like a list?"

"Do you possess that much ink, or will you need to steal some?"

He snickers in response as Saskia enters the tent muttering greetings to the pair of us. "Ryder is escorting Finnian from the castle, so they'll be here shortly."

Their voices float away from me as their conversation continues; I'm too drawn to the flames to focus on anything else. The logs splinter as the fire dances for me. There's something moving in there, almost like a secret message as my bond tingles in my chest. Several sets of dragon wings flap and overlap as the fire flickers. Sweat gathers on my forehead, but I can't turn away from the colors of my dragons' eyes mingling with the mundane blaze.

I see their eyes.

They stare at me as if they can see into my soul.

A hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me away as I'm reaching toward them, and goosebumps dot my skin when my trance breaks. Blood rushes in my ears and I stare in disbelief at the ordinary fire. The ground feels unsteady beneath me.

"What did you see?" Saskia asks, arm around my shoulders while her hand remains on my wrist.

I force my gaze to her as Finnian and Ryder enter the tent with someone I don't recognize. He bows to Cayden before rounding the table and walking toward me.

"I saw my dragons' eyes," I whisper before licking my dry lips and summoning a smile when he kneels, taking my hand and pressing it to his forehead.

"Queen Elowen, may I present General Braxton of Vareveth," Ryder says while taking the seat at Cayden's left.

"Your Majesty," he says before standing. "It's an honor to make your acquaintance."

A memory rings in my brain. "You were in Ladislava after the attack." He was the man giving out orders as Finnian carried me away.

"Yes, my lady. I worked with General Neredras on tightening security."

I smile and nod as Saskia tugs on my arm and places me on Cayden's right while taking the seat beside me, across from Finnian. She readies a quill as Cayden's eyes drift over my face before he gestures for Braxton to begin.

"Commander Veles rooted out the final assassin last night, and with the added security to Ladislava, Verendus, and the border, I don't believe we'll have to worry about further attempts." He pauses, his eyes darting between Cayden and me nervously as he shifts in his seat. "However, I don't understand how they could have managed all of this without having a spy placed here."

"In our ranks?" Saskia asks.

Finnian's fingers twitch on the table like he wishes to nock an arrow in his bow.

"No, a job like this would have to be taken on by someone undoubtedly loyal to Imirath," Cayden answers for him. "Someone to organize attempts while keeping a low profile to see the job through."

"My father trusts the soldiers in his personal guard most." I graze my fingers over my knives when I recall the years they tortured me. He could trust them to keep quiet. The idea that one of them is watching my every move makes my skin crawl. "I can provide details from what I remember, though they're most likely under an alias and I'm sure several guards have been changed out by now."

"Any information is useful," Saskia says before peppering Braxton with further questions.

The feeling in my chest becomes sharper, more persistent, and my eyes are drawn to the flames again. It's trying to tell me something, I feel it in my bones. I unclasp my pendant from around my neck and drop the moonstone on the table when the metal burns my palm.

Cayden leans his head closer to me, but his face is blurring. The only thing I see with clarity is the fire. "Are you all right?"

"I just need some air." But I'm too dizzy to stand.

"I'll escort you out," Finnian says, beginning to rise.

"I'll just be a moment." I push myself out of the chair with my eyes on the fire. Another image has formed—the amulet the priestess gifted me. I recall seeing it on Cayden's desk last night, and rip my wrist from his hold, rushing from the tent without a backward glance.

"Elowen!" he calls once I'm halfway across the path, and I know Finnian will be hot on his heels. They'll say the amulet is too high a risk, but I'm not letting us fail.

I quicken my pace as I enter the other tent and rip the amulet from his desk, gasping when it pulses in my hand like a heart. The metal is warm, inviting, tempting. A stark contrast to when I first held the necklace.

"Put that down." Cayden halts in place when I raise the amulet closer to my neck. Finnian, Ryder, and Saskia soon follow, all exchanging confused and worried glances.

"The priestess said this is essential to our mission," I say, trying to reason.

" You are essential!" he growls. "The link to your dragons doesn't depend on some cheap sorcery. The bond is in your soul."

"Put the necklace down, and we can figure this out together," Finnian says, taking a tentative step forward. If I blinked, I'd miss the way he and Cayden exchanged a brief glance.

"Some risks have to be worth it." I clasp the chain around my neck and feel myself falling through endless darkness before everything becomes silent.

Damp stone presses into me and seeps through my clothes. Two serpents slither around my arms in circular motions as golden flecks radiate off their bodies and flutter through the air around me. They illuminate the dark corner I'm in, but my fingers pass through their transparent bodies as heavy footsteps approach. I pull two knives from my holsters and jump forward to attack, but the guard doesn't even glance at me.

He walks through me.

The serpent glides around my palm while I stare down at it and realize I'm invisible. I'm nothing more than a puff of cold air in this damp, dark hall.

The snake on my right arm slithers forward, and I follow. The amulet obviously transported me here for a reason and I don't know how much time I have. I can't say I thought the amulet would have me following snakes down a corridor, but I suppose stranger things have happened in my life.

The snake turns a corner, but I halt as if my feet are cemented in the stone floor.

I'm in Imirath.

The amulet pulses on my neck, urging me forward, but suddenly I'm not the twenty-five-year-old staring into my old cell, I'm the six-year-old banging on the bars I'm locked behind.

My legs give out and I'm gasping for air. I dig my palms into my eyes and fight the onslaught of memories I keep locked away.

The gold flecks come alive within the cell, becoming a small girl and an oversized man. He picks the girl up by the neck, thrusting her shaking frame into the bars, and I swear I feel the pain at the back of my head.

"brEAK THE BOND!"

Gold flecks rain off her the more she shakes, but she knows this routine. She knows the guard will leave and she'll hold on to that bond in her chest to stay alive, not caring that it's a bleak existence because she's not only existing for herself. She endures because she has no other choice, but even if she did, she'll always choose to live despite all the pain.

"Never."

The man roars, throwing the child onto the ground as the flecks explode and fade away. My shoulder screams in phantom pain, and I hear the distant sound of chains sliding against the floor, feel the pangs of starvation, remember what it was like to crave sunlight and fresh air.

I dig my nails into my palms and stand on stiff legs. That little girl survived so she could become the woman I am today. I am more than the memories and past that plague me. I'm no longer the girl they locked up. I'm their ruination foretold by the prophecy. I'm the woman forged from the bars I melted in my mind and welded into blades.

I follow the snake when it glides forward and stride past my cell, never looking back. Darkness has befriended me in ways the light never could, and right now, I truly am nothing more than a shadow.

I am Elowen Atarah, and nobody will put me in a cage again—not my mind nor anything else.

I pass through walls and doors, walking freely through my prison. I hardly remember the castle; most images in my mind have been distorted by fear. As the years passed, Garrick ordered me to be blindfolded when I had to appear in the throne room. I ignore the flashes of gold, purple, and red that make up the place that should have been my home. But I was escorted through the castle in shackles rather than roaming it in bows and dresses.

Crystals and candles hang from the ceiling of the ballroom. I dive behind a column out of instinct when I note several soldiers guarding a staircase, but I'm unsteady on my feet and the amulet tugs me forward. I hold my breath as I bound up the steps, not wanting to make a single noise. I know they can't see me, but walking in front of several enemy soldiers isn't exactly something one would do with ease—invisible or not. The steps split at the top, and the snake makes a sharp left. The amulet nearly chokes me as it swings, urging my body to follow.

We twist and turn through the guarded halls, and I sprint to get to the destination faster, worried the magic is running low. I'm pulled through an iron door and the pulsing and tugging ceases. I glance down at the amulet, afraid the magic is gone, but it slips from my fingers when a shadow swallows me.

A snout nudges me from behind and tears well in my eyes before I even turn. Venatrix's red eyes stare down at me in suspicion, and her scales flash to black. Each dragon possesses the ability to camouflage when they're scared or need to hunt.

She leans her head into my outstretched hand, but I realize she can't see me, only senses me. When she hums, a tear falls from my eye and splatters on the floor, which Calithea springs forward to sniff. She turns toward the other three dragons and roars.

Sorin sprints forward, smushing his face against Venatrix's and taking her place in my hand. She snaps at him, and he snaps back. They look as if they're about to wage war on each other before I reach forward to run my hands down their scales. Their pupils dilate and their fangs retreat.

When I turn to pet Delmira, I'm met with a heavy chain. My blood chills and boils all at once when I drag my eyes between each dragon, noting the collars around their necks and shackles on their ankles. I hadn't realized when I first saw them, too overwhelmed by their presence.

Unadulterated rage pours through me like lava, and I long for the day I'll paint the world with the blood of those responsible for this. As if the dragons can sense the change in my mood, they begin stomping their feet and roaring so loud it shakes the chamber.

This is the song of war.

Perhaps I could've let go of my anger if the torture were only directed at me, but I will never forgive Garrick for harming my dragons and locking them away. Nor will I forgive the army of soldiers that stands between us. Garrick may wear a crown, but dragon fire can melt gold. His title and flesh will be erased from this world while we remain.

"Give me more time." The amulet begins pulsing again, and I try to rip it off but there's an invisible barrier surrounding it. Basilius is about to reach my hand, his purple eyes full of hope and longing, when a gold barrier surrounds me, and our cries mingle together.