Kingdom of Fire and Fae, page 10
Faide stared at him, his gaze unyielding. “You are a dragon.”
Draven inclined his head, acknowledging the truth. Lanae opened her mouth to speak, but Draven put his hand out to stop her, his gesture commanding silence.
“Lanae is a superb warrior and a passionate woman. The kind of woman who is fit to be a queen.”
The bold proclamation sent murmurs rippling through the council. Many of the members leaned forward with wide-eyed stares.
Warning bells clamored in Lanae’s head, an uproar of fear and apprehension. “Draven,” she whispered, but he cut a glare at her, silencing her with a look.
“I know the council has Solstice City’s best interest at heart, which is why I have not laid my claim on this realm. But understand this: if you move to punish her for marrying me, then I will have to rethink my position.” His voice was unwavering, the words carrying an unspoken threat.
“And what position is that?” Faide snarled, his anger barely restrained.
“I am the son of Viserion Emberwing.”
The declaration sent a shock wave through the council. A few of the older members recoiled, their eyes wide with disbelief.
Draven’s gaze pinned them with an unwavering intensity. “And as the son of the dragon king, the throne is rightfully mine.”
Lanae held her breath, her heart picking up speed. This was not what she wanted. She had not come here for a showdown that would question the council’s validity.
“From the looks on a couple of your faces, it seems you remember my father. But do you recognize who nearly wiped this city off the map?” Draven’s voice echoed in the tense silence of the council chamber. The air crackled with Draven’s unspoken threat hanging like a storm cloud over their heads.
“Your father,” one of the bolder elderly council members said, their voice wavering but holding a note of defiance.
The chamber seemed to hold its breath, the tension like a live wire cascading across the floor.
Draven’s sarcastic and bitter laugh filled the room, echoing off the wooden walls. It was a sound that cut through the air like a knife, filled with years of pent-up frustration and anger. “No.” His voice dripped with disdain. “Alestain Firetwill cursed my father with the same type of mind control that you witnessed three years ago in our last skirmish with the Firetwills.”
A chill ran through the air.
He continued, his tone laced with bitterness. “And then he stole the Dragon’s Heart and used it to rid this realm of dragons and fae enemies alike.”
The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the unspoken realization of the severity of Alestain’s actions. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows across the council members’ faces, their expressions ranging from shock to disbelief. The air charged with a storm of emotions that brewed beneath the surface as Draven’s revelation sank in.
“You have laid blame on the dragons when it was one of your own who brought this realm to its knees.” Draven’s accusation flung out like a whip. His voice launched through the air with the force of a physical blow. The room vibrated with the intensity of his words, the echoes lingering in the charged atmosphere.
His eyes burned with a fierce, indignant light, and the muscles in his jaw tightened as he spoke. “We are protectors by nature. Not the war-mongering beasts you made us out to be.” The heat of his anger radiated from him, and the council members recoiled, his accusation layering over them like a heavy shroud.
“And now Alestain Firetwill has woken his brother’s army and will come to enact his final revenge on this city.” Draven’s voice resonated through the chamber, each word a harbinger of the impending doom.
The council members exchanged anxious glances, their eyes wide with the news.
He glanced at Lanae, the intensity of his gaze a silent acknowledgment of her bravery. “But not as quickly as we assumed because Lanae destroyed his ability to travel realms before she escaped his prison.”
The council members’ whispers filled the room like the rustling of leaves in a storm. Some leaned forward in their seats, their brows furrowed in contemplation, while others reclined, their expressions a blend of disbelief and grudging respect.
Faide’s mouth popped open, and the anger in his eyes gave way to a flicker of something akin to respect.
The reality of Alestain’s threat sunk in. The soft murmurs of the council became a backdrop to the sense of urgency that now pervaded the chamber, each member grappling with the implications of the news. The enormity of what lay ahead was undeniable.
“We are aware that the mind-controlled have woken. The dungeons are active with them trying to escape, as if the call to action has severed their ability to rationalize.” Faide’s voice echoed through the chamber like a stiff wind. His eyes still blazed with barely contained anger. “And while we were warned of the imposter in our midst yesterday, that still does not lessen Lanae’s betrayal. She went behind our backs after we explicitly denied your union.”
The tension in the room thickened. The council members shifted uneasily in their seats, their expressions carved with disapproval. The soft rustling of robes and the creak of wooden seats added a sense of foreboding to the moment.
The ridiculousness of Faide’s accusation stung like a physical blow. The heavy silence amplified the magnitude of his words and sparked the fight within her. Draven’s presence beside her was a reassuring anchor, his steady breath and the radiant comfort of his proximity grounding her amidst the council’s misplaced judgment.
“My private life has no bearing on my ability to defend this city.” Lanae’s voice echoed off the timber walls, reverberating through the chamber like a clarion call. “I love Draven Emberwing and will defend him just as vehemently as I do this city. I did not require your approval to join my heart to his. It was not a betrayal of my position or of my loyalty to you.”
Her anger at their judgment flared bright, a fierce heat that seemed to radiate from her very being. The intensity of her emotions caused fresh growth to sprout from the ancient walls, delicate vines unfurling and creeping up the wood, their leaves glistening with a vibrant green.
The council members watched in stunned silence, their eyes wide as they witnessed the tangible manifestation of her power. The cavernous space seemed to come alive with the pulsating rhythm of her determination, the recent growth serving as a testament to her power. The flickering torchlight danced across the fresh foliage, casting intricate shadows that mirrored the complex emotions swirling within the chamber.
Faide waved at the ivy vines crawling up the walls, their leaves rustling softly in the otherwise tense silence. “This is why we did not sanction the union. Your offspring will be the death of this city,” he declared, his voice cold and unwavering. His words hung like a dark cloud overshadowing the room.
“Our offspring are none of your concern.” Draven’s statement carried a finality that fell like a bomb, the room recoiling from the impact. The air crackled with the dragon’s silent threat, leaving everyone in the room on edge.
Lanae drew a lungful of oxygen, calming the mounting anger inside her. The cool air grounded her as she prepared to address the council. “We can have a discussion relating to your fears about our relationship later. Right now, we have a more pressing issue. Alestain wants Solstice City to be a monarchy that he leads. He is the threat we need to face. Not Draven.”
Her voice was steady and commanding, each word resonating with conviction. The council members exchanged uneasy glances, their faces etched with combining elements of reluctance and recognition of the truth in her words. The air in the room seemed to grow thicker, the scent of the ancient tree mingling with the subtle aroma of tension and uncertainty.
Faide’s eyes flickered as anger slowly gave way to contemplation. He glanced around the room, noting the pensive expressions of his fellow council members.
One of the elder council members, a fae with silver hair and a wise, contemplative gaze, leaned forward. “Alestain is the immediate threat we must address. His ambitions endanger the very foundation of our city.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the council, the impending threat uniting them in a common cause. The room hummed with the collective resolve of the council, the ancient magic that permeated the Citadel responding to their determination.
Faide let out a heavy sigh, the stiffness in his shoulders visibly easing. “Very well,” he conceded, his voice softer but still authoritative. “For now, we must focus our efforts on defending Solstice City from Alestain’s forces. We will address the matter of your union at a later time.”
Draven’s grip on Lanae’s hand tightened briefly, a silent acknowledgment of the minor victory. The air lightened as the oppressive weight of judgment lifted. The council members nodded in agreement, their expressions shifting from accusation to determination.
“What of your parents?” Faide asked, his voice softened by a hint of empathy, the usual animosity tempered by the seriousness of the situation. His eyes, though still stern, held a flicker of concern.
“They are awake, but they do not recognize Caelum or me.” Lanae’s voice trembled as she spoke, each word a bitter pill that she forced herself to swallow. The burden of her parents’ condition brought forth her sense of helplessness and sorrow. The sting of tears bloomed in the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away, drawing strength from the power within her.
“I don’t know what strategies you and the generals have planned, but I must implore you to curtail the killing if we are attacked.” Her voice steadied, taking on a pleading tone as she addressed the council. “These people fighting with Alestain are not of sound mind. They do not have a will of their own.” The enormity of the statement lingered, the realization of the enemy’s plight adding a layer of complexity to their struggle.
“In order to free them from their prison, we have to eliminate the Firetwill line.” Her words were a somber proclamation, the finality of the solution settling over the council like a shroud.
The council members exchanged glances, their faces reflecting a range of emotions, from reluctance to grim determination. The air was thick with the unspoken understanding that their actions would shape the future of Solstice City. Faide’s gaze softened further, the flicker of concern now a steady flame. The shared burden bound them together in the face of the coming storm.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Calm Before the Storm
CAELUM BLOCKED ANOTHER BLOW from his sparring partner, the clash of wooden swords echoing through the training yard. Sweat trickled down his brow, stinging his eyes as he moved with practiced precision. The musty scent of old leather and iron filled his nostrils, mingling with the slight tang of blood from a scrape on his arm. Each strike reverberated through his bones in a testament to the physical demands of his training.
Yet his mind was miles away, replaying the memory of Jenna’s kiss. He could still feel the softness of her lips and the warmth that spread through him, igniting a fire in his chest. The world had seemed to stop in that moment, the noise of the training room fading into a distant hum. Her scent—fresh like a field of wildflowers—lingered in his memory, a constant distraction from his sparring. His thoughts danced around the way her eyes sparkled with mischief, the way her laughter rang like a melody he couldn’t quite get out of his head.
A sudden, forceful strike brought him back to the present, the impact jarring his arm painfully. He winced, tightening his grip on the sword. His sparring partner’s breathing was heavy, mirroring his own exhaustion. Caelum shook his head, trying to refocus on the fight, but Jenna’s presence was a persistent shadow in his thoughts, making each movement both automatic and surreal.
He yielded after another blow, his muscles aching from the relentless sparring. Dropping his sword to the ground, he trudged toward the cooler, his mouth dry and parched. The anticipation of the crisp, cool water made his steps quicker. As he reached the water trough, he grabbed a metal cup, relishing the coolness against his palm. He poured himself a drink; the water cascaded in a sparkling stream that splashed gently onto the rim.
He took a long, refreshing gulp, the icy liquid soothing his dry throat and revitalizing his senses. Wiping his brow with his arm, he sighed in relief, the brief respite giving him a moment to collect his thoughts.
His gaze wandered to the neighboring fields, where the more senior soldiers practiced with a disciplined grace. Their precise movements and the clash of steel echoed through the air, a symphony of martial prowess. Among them, his eyes homed in on the object of his growing desire—Jenna. She moved with fluid elegance, her every motion exuding confidence and skill. The sunlight caught her hair, creating a halo of golden light around her, making her stand out even more vividly against the backdrop of the training ground.
Caelum’s chest thrummed wildly as he watched her, the memory of their kiss lingering in his mind. His senses were heightened, every detail of the moment etched into his memory—the softness of her lips, the sweet scent of her skin, the warmth that had enveloped him. He couldn’t help but be drawn to her, his thoughts consumed by her presence even as he stood on the sidelines. The desire to be near her, to experience that connection again, was a fire that burned within him, making it hard to focus on anything else.
When Jenna finished sparring, she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and scanned the field. Her eyes quickly found him, a warm glow spreading across her face as she caught sight of Caelum.
The hint of a smile that tilted her lips was enough to send a rush of heat through his soul, melting away the exhaustion of the day.
Before he could savor the moment, a loud commotion erupted at the far end of the yard. Caelum’s heart skipped a beat as Nero bounded toward the training field. Nero’s powerful wings flapped, sending gusts of wind that kicked up clouds of dust. In his sharp talons hung the carcass of a cow, and his fierce golden eyes gleamed with mischief.
The griffin’s arrival was a whirlwind of chaos. Caelum hung his head, swearing under his breath as the griffin circled the sparring field, drizzling soldiers with fresh blood. The coppery scent filled the air, blending with the earthy aroma of disturbed soil and the musty scent of sweat. Nero cawed triumphantly, as if his kill represented a badge of honor. The beast knew the rules. Draven was going to roast him alive.
Soldiers scattered in all directions, trying to avoid the troublemaking creature. The sound of armor clanking and hurried footsteps echoed around the field. At least they weren’t cowering in fear like the prior day when Nero exercised his storm powers, summoning dark clouds and lightning. The environment was charged with the pungent scent of death, and the occasional breeze carried the whiff of fresh blood.
With an air of dominance, Nero came to a halt just a few paces from Jenna. His feathers shimmered in the sunlight, an array of pastel blues, vibrant pinks, and rich purples that were both beautiful and terrifying. He spread his wings wide, casting an enormous shadow over the training ground, as if challenging anyone who dared come near his meal. The sunlight glinted off his sharp beak, highlighting its lethal curve.
Caelum’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his knuckles whitening. He crossed the grounds with determined strides, marching right up to the griffin. His breath quickened with the fury filling him, each exhale a harsh sign of his mounting anger. The closer he got, the more the oppressive heat radiated from the beast.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped, his voice a strained growl.
Nero’s gaze flicked to Caelum with a glint of mischief. He lowered his head, and with a quick, savage motion, took a chunk of meat out of the dead bovine in his talon, gobbling it down. The sound of tearing flesh was sickeningly audible, making Caelum grit his teeth.
Jenna’s hand landed gently on Caelum’s arm, urging him away from the beast. Her touch was soft, a vivid disparity to the roughness of the situation.
He covered her hand with his and squeezed, drawing strength from her presence. “Nero won’t hurt me,” he assured her, his voice steady but tense.
Nero’s head tilted, as if mocking Caelum. The griffin’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, seeming to understand the trouble he was causing.
Caelum put his hands on his waist and stared at the creature, his thoughts racing. The last time Nero grabbed livestock, they had been warned by the council of the consequences if it were to happen again. The memory of that stern reprimand made his pulse pound in his ears, adrenaline sharp on his tongue. “They will demand reparations, Nero.” His low voice was filled with warning.
Nero cawed loudly, a sound that echoed across the field, and then took to the skies with his meal, powerful wings stirring the air into a frenzy. The gusts of wind carried the scent of death and disrupted the peace of the training ground. But the damage had been done, and all the guards would be talking about was the damned griffin and his propensity to pillage their livestock. Caelum watched him go, a mix of frustration and resignation settling over him.
He turned to Jenna, shaking his head with a wry smile. “I’m sorry. He’s in a teen phase.” He shrugged, as if that explained everything.
Jenna burst out laughing, the sound a sweet, musical relief against the tension hanging in the air. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, her laughter sending ripples through the stifling atmosphere. “Griffins are dangerous, Caelum,” she said between chuckles, wiping away a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye.
Caelum lifted a brow, the corners of his mouth twitching in a playful smirk. “Just like dragons?” His voice was light and teasing.
Her laughter bubbled up again, and the sound was contagious. The way her eyes crinkled and her shoulders shook made it impossible not to join in. Caelum chuckled too, the shared moment of humor breaking the tension and lightening his spirits. It was a pleasant distraction from the chaos of the last few days, a gentle prod that even in the midst of trouble, there could still be moments of levity.
