30. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Vyran and Calyr are certain. Only Kasan hesitates. The hunters are too close. We must act soon.

~Inni the Destroyer, A History of Magic and Dragons

"Flames," Cole says to the dressmaker's wife, who looks over me, a tape measure in her hands. We're back in the same shop that Cole had dragged me to after our little fiasco in the market. Except that this time, the dressmaker and his wife are not leaving. The dressmaker's business isn't what I'd expected. I'd thought we'd walk into a shop filled with dresses and gowns, and we'd pick one out. Like picking out a good loaf of bread.

I was wrong. So wrong, in fact, that Cole nearly broke into that unending laughter like when I'd made a joke about Lee and Darian carrying us to Draenyth.

I'm standing on a small platform and the dressmaker is looking at me like I'm a broken thing that needs fixing. I don't think I've ever felt quite as judged as I do right now. Cole, the dressmaker, and his wife are staring at me, and all I'm wearing is my undertunic.

"She doesn't smell like flames…" Lorcan, the male dressmaker, says, a brow raised. "She doesn't smell like anything, to be frighteningly honest, Lord Cole."

He's holding a needle in his teeth while his wife, Fiona, runs a tape measure over my body. She's not exactly nice about it, either. Now I understand why Cole said that seamstresses terrify him. Her hands move with deftness, but whenever I try to shift, she gives me this look that reminds me of Vesta when I'd done something incredibly stupid.

So I stand silently as the three of them decide what to do with me. I don't get any choices, and I don't offer any opinions, but that's probably for the best. I don't think I've ever even seen a dress that would be appropriate for the table of the King of the Fae.

"Flames," Cole repeats. "She's my betrothed, and I would like her dressed in flames."

Lorcan's brow arches even higher. "I am yours to command, Lord Cole, but may I offer a suggestion?"

Cole gives a nearly imperceptible nod without looking away from me. "Why not blend the other Great Houses into the dress? Why not show a little bit of earth, steel, and shadow? She is obviously not completely from the House of Flames, so if you dress her in your colors, she will be a possession, not an individual."

Cole's eyes roam over my body before he says, "That's true. I don't want my father to think that I'm claiming her like a toy. She's… important to me, so letting her have something beyond myself in her dress is probably the right decision."

Lorcan nods his head emphatically. His hand moves to the thin white beard that looks like an icicle hanging from his chin, which matches the coldness I see in his eyes. "That's what I assumed, Lord Cole. As soon as Fiona is done measuring, we'll get to work spinning it. I assume you have the spellstones?"

Cole pulls a small velvet purse from his belt and hands it to Lorcan. "That should be more than enough."

"Yes, Lord. Without a doubt." The older High Fae doesn't even look, but I can see him judging what's inside the pouch by its weight.

Fiona stands up and says, "Come back in an hour, and we'll make sure that it fits."

Just like that, we're done. I wonder what spellstones are. Even more, I wonder how anyone could create clothing in an hour that would be wearable to the King of the Fae's dinner table. One more instance of me being completely unprepared for the world I'm in. But when I step off the platform, and Cole takes my arm in his, I feel calm again.

He looks down at me, a softness in those eyes that rivals the seriousness he's had so many times before. "Let's get you dressed, and then I'll give you a tour of my favorite parts of the city while we wait."

A tour of the city? How romantic. And how very unlike Cole. What's going on with him? What am I not understanding? He seems so different. The way he looks at me… the way his body moves to be close to me…

I don't know, but never in my life have I been happier to have someone next to me. Maybe this betrothal ritual did something more than I thought.

The cobblestones that pave the city's roads would have been dug up and sold in Blackgrove. Smooth like river stones, bits of gold and crystal glitter from between the dark onyx. Bright green grass springs up alongside the cobblestones, uniformly cut everywhere, as if by magic. Which, in all reality, it might be.

There are shops everywhere, but unlike the market, no one is outside shouting to get our attention. The buildings aren't made of red marble, but they all host shades of red somewhere. "Is this the House of Flame's area or something? Why does everyone have red on their buildings?"

Cole nods as we walk. "This section of Draenyth depends on the House of Flame's patronage. Most of the shops this close to the Keep are wholly dependent on our house, and especially my father's court, to stay in business. Lorcan and Fiona have depended on my spellstones for five hundred years, and they've grown very wealthy because of them."

I frown as he picks two fruits from a tree and hands one to me. I've never seen this kind of fruit before. It's soft like a pear but shaped like an apple. The skin seems thinner than even a pear and as soon as I rub my finger across it, the skin pulls away, revealing delicate white flesh. "Dalen fruit," he says. "It's grown solely within the House of Flame's quadrant of Draenyth. Nowhere else in the world."

I take a bite, and Cole does too. It's subtle. Initially, it feels like an under-ripe fruit—as if there's not enough sugar in it. As I chew, the flavor rolls over my tongue, bathing it in an odd taste. It's like a pear, but tangier. All of it is so subtle, as if a very juicy potato had a faint fruity flavor.

"This is strange…" I say.

"Yes, but do you enjoy it?"

I don't know. "Maybe?" I take another bite, and that strangely subtle, tangy pear flavor fills my mouth. It's starchy, and the sweetness grows, but the tang washes all of that away. I take another bite, and I almost make a face. "This is the strangest fruit ever."

Cole grins and shrugs. "It's Fae fruit. Of course it's strange."

As if that made any sense at all. "Come on," he says. "Let me show you the city how it should be seen. From the sky." I don't say anything as he pulls me back toward the Keep of Flames, and I struggle to keep up. For the first time, Cole's pace isn't slow and steady. It's excited and antsy and almost erratic.

As soon as we're inside the walls, he drags me up the stairs to the top of the ramparts where guards in vibrant red uniforms patrol, their eyes ever looking toward the skies rather than the ground. They're watching for warriors from the House of Steel on magical wings. I expect them to all wear armor like Cole's, with all the little curled pieces of steel riveted to it, but theirs are just simple red gambesons. Not a touch of steel on any of it.

I don't even have a chance to look around as Cole rushes past the guards, all of whom seem unperturbed by the prince wandering along the ramparts. Then we get to a guardhouse at one of the corners, and Cole gives me a grin. "Ready to fly?" he asks.

There's a sparkle in his eyes that just feels so out of place, and I have to remind myself that he's acting here. He's pretending to be betrothed to someone he utterly respects and wants to show off for. Someone he trusts . This isn't real.

But when I nod, he puts his hands at my waist, and I can't help the pure excitement that flows through me. His hands are radiating heat, but it's controlled. Then he jumps, that vise-like grip holding me in places in front of him as pixie wings carry us to the top of the guard tower. Seconds pass while we're in the air, completely alone, with the wind as the only sound around us.

My hands tighten around his wrists, but I know that of all the fears I could have about Cole, the fear of him dropping me is not one of them. That grip on my waist won't fail any sooner than his sword would fail in combat. I can feel all the emotions rolling through him, and none of them are doubt. None of them get close to fear or nervousness. It's pure excitement and pride because he can feel my emotions too, and I'm not afraid either.

"I'm glad you've started to trust me," he whispers.

That comment after our conversation only an hour ago? "I've trusted your physical abilities for a long time."

He smirks as he lands on the edge of the guardhouse roof. The roof slopes down from a point at the center, the same glossy marble that everything's made of shining in the sunlight. The edge of the roof has been scored and scraped, almost like someone wanted to keep it from being slippery when wet.

"Watch your footing," Cole says softly. "Falling from here would be… unpleasant."

Cole turns around and lifts his feet as his pixie wings slowly lower him to a seated position on the edge of the roof, his legs hanging over it.

The wind whips around us because of how high up we are, and the thought of hanging my legs over the edge makes my stomach twist. There's nothing between us and the ground almost a hundred feet down. No, I don't think I'll just hang my feet over the ledge. Cole may feel comfortable with that, but he has wings.

I sit cross-legged, but I inch my way closer to him. Something inside me wants the security of being close to Cole. "Why'd you take me here?" I ask.

"Because it's one of the safest places in the city. No one can get here without being seen, at least not since the House of Shadows was forced into hiding. We could have gone to a few different safe houses, but that'd be forcing you into a cramped space in a city you don't know with a man you don't trust."

He says that last bit with more than a little venom. "More than anything, I like the view." It's almost like an afterthought, but the view is something spectacular.

His feet dangle like a child sitting in a chair that's hundreds of feet too tall for him, but the tone is anything but childish. Where he'd been excited and proud moments ago, it's like everything's faded from him, and he's no different from when we were traveling. Focused, calm, and anything but emotional. If I didn't know better, I'd expect there to be a fire in front of him to stare at with the way he's talking.

"I knew that being in Draenyth wouldn't be fun, Cole. I'm not afraid of being uncomfortable."

He just nods and continues to kick his feet, ignoring what I said. "The city's pretty when the sun's low like this." I turn to look at the cityscape before us. I… hadn't known how large Draenyth was. When we'd approached, the walls had looked like they spread out forever, but it's hard to understand the true breadth of anything when you're on the ground inside it.

Now I can see everything. This really is the best way to see the city. Following the curve of Skycrest, the city surrounds the mountain. The city is built in a full circle around it. Now I understand. The Great Houses each control a quarter of the city. Like a gradient that changes from the deep reds and oranges close to the Keep of Flames to dark browns and greens in the Keep at the edge of my visibility.

It's hard to believe that there's anything as beautiful as Draenyth from this viewpoint. Down on the ground there's a mix of artistry and dirtiness, but from our bird's-eye view, you can't see the slave markets or the anger in some of the Immortals' eyes. You don't see the hunger or the distrust. From Cole's castle on high, there's nothing about this city that's anything but wondrous.

"It is," I agree with him. "But Cole, I saw it from the ground."

Cole shrugs. "It wasn't meant to be like what it is now. The dragons and the first High Fae didn't make Draenyth to be like this. That's the kings' fault. That's what happens when no one can force them to care about anything other than themselves."

He frowns, but instead of anger, he just feels low. His shoulders slump, and he tries to put on a smile, but it cracks. "Things will get better. I have to believe that. My father and King Gethin from the House of Steel won't always rule. Eventually, a House of Shadow King or Queen will be found. The House of Earth can't be wiped out completely. Someone will step in. Eventually."

The words he's saying sound hopeful, but there's so little hope in his eyes. I say nothing. Instead, we watch as the sun slowly falls. Something feels different while we're sitting quietly above the city I've been so terrified of for so long. The two of us have sat next to a fire as the sun fell nearly every night for months now, and it's never felt quite like this.

He's just as quiet as normal, but there's a heavier feel to it all. Like he knows something's coming, and he doesn't want it to come. There's only one thing I can imagine would make him feel like that. His father.

"We could always try to figure out a different plan," I say softly. "You could just hide me and sneak me in to see Calyr, and then you wouldn't have to deal with your father's anger."

Cole chuckles and shakes his head, that gorgeous black hair flowing softly in the wind around us. "No. Maeve, getting to Calyr is going to be far more difficult than you expect. Only the kings are allowed to visit him now. He's guarded night and day by both Houses' troops. Unless I wanted to go to war with both my father and the House of Steel, we're going to have to find a good time, and that won't happen overnight. This is really the only safe answer."

I do something that I don't think he expects. I reach out and put my hand on his arm. My fingertips touch his bare skin, and the emotions roll through me. Strength and confidence. None of the despair I'd heard in his voice.

"Wha…"

"I have to control my emotions, Maeve. All of them. No highs. No lows. You need to understand that, too. One day, you'll need to use those shadows that threaten to leave your fingers constantly. One day, you'll need to fight with them, and if you don't have a tight leash on them, you may not have the control or focus to win a battle. That means you die, Maeve. That means other people die. The people you care the most about die. Leash your damn emotions and don't let them take control."

He flexes his hand, and a flash of happiness bursts through at the same time that flames flicker to life in his palm. I look from the flames to his eyes and see the despair still lingering there. "You have to be happy even when you're breaking if you're going to fight," I whisper.

He doesn't respond, but I feel the undercurrent of emotions that rises to the surface when the fire goes out. Fear. The fear he's felt for so long. Not for himself. No, it's for Darian and Lee and who knows how many other people.

Only cold, unwavering control is acceptable to the Prince of Flames because anything else means that the ones he calls his weaknesses will die. The ones he cares about more than himself are why he holds that leash over his emotions.

"Come on," he says as he stands up. "Lorcan and Fiona are probably ready for us. Then you get to meet my father, and we make our betrothal public knowledge."

That's all he says. Nothing about what's going to happen when his father realizes that he's betrothed to a Wyrdling with no power. Nothing about the pain that he's going to endure.

For the world he's trying to build.

For his friends.

For me.

I don't have words for him. Instead, I just smile and nod, and when he wraps his hands around me, I do my best to leash the emotions inside me. The fear and anger and compassion. I tie them together with steel chains and push them to the back of my mind. Tonight, I need to become just as cold as Cole is.