He’s nearly to the door by the time I finally find my voice again.
“The other night in your room…you said you wouldn’t let me fall into the brutal clutches of Dralsk’s royal family.”
He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “I stand by it.”
“And if you reallydidjust start a war over me, as Lord Faron suggested?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Then I made my choice,” he says as he opens the door, “and I don’t regret it.”
Chapter Thirty
Things change after the night of the Sun Harvest Feast.
My standing within the royal palace, and the city around it, is the most jarring shift. I go from someone most are suspicious of, someone who's tolerated, at best, to someone almost…respected.
Some were won over merely after seeing their king holding my hand so tightly. Others are still telling stories of how Briar and I protected the partygoers from the Dralsk intruders. Those who saw me fight—who caught a glimpse of my dragon eye, or the way I moved with power and speed beyond my own—are whispering the loudest, their stories becoming increasingly embellished with each telling.
Sesca is allowed to remain unchained, and she rarely ventures far from me. Our trainings become less structured, but no less demanding, as I try to experiment and grow our bond in every way I can think of.
There are parts of me that still want to deny her.
To denyus.
How can I, though, when our bond is so obviously real that it's kindling war?
The other dragons that populate Mouren's skies are becoming more erratic, too, which is further proof of what's happening with me and Sesca. Two days after the feast, one of these rogue dragons collides with the Grand Pavilion, attacking its stone wings as if they were real, breaking them off and reducing them to piles of dust and rubble on the ground.
Reave jokes that it at least had the decency to wait until after their party.
Kestrel is not amused.
I'm secretly terrified that it's an omen of worse things to come, even though weeks ago I would have beenecstaticat the thought of dragons destroying any part of the Mouren Palace.
We suspect their behavior is due to Sesca's growing power and influence—that it's as Reave told me when we stood together on the rooftop: Divine dragons affect lesser ones. Even without trying to, her power is drawing them in, disturbing them in ways they can't understand. She isn't strong enough to properly control them yet, so in the meantime, it's just causing chaos.
And yet, the king insists it's important for me to continue working on unlocking her power and fortifying our bond, regardless of the side-effects. He's quick to reprimand anyone who suggests otherwise, or who tries to blame me or my dragon for the troubles his city is being forced to endure.
I'm still not entirely sure about his motives for protecting me.
I only know it's safer, and more strategic, to pretend I'mhappy to be protected. That I’m thrilled to be seen at his side, as if I really could be his potential Flamebound Queen.
But no matter how good I am at pretending, I'm still haunted by the things Lord Faron said.
Traitor, he called me.
I wonder if everyone back home thinks the same thing. If they've received the supplies Reave sent as part of the deal I struck—supplies I know they won't toss aside, because they simply can't afford to—and now they're all gathering at the tavern and gossiping endlessly about how tainted those supplies are.
About how taintedIam.
About how much worse I'm becoming with every moment of connection I allow between myself and the king. Every stolen glance between us. Every shared meal. Every bit of laughter that feels treacherous yet inevitable whenever we're together as of late.
The ever-increasing tensions between Dralsk and Mouren demand most of his focus, so at least I don't have to endure him very often. Though, when I'm not with him, I'm usually thinking about him. Trying to make sense of his feelings, and of that last deep, vulnerable conversation we had on the rooftop.
One thing he said that night has made me lose more sleep than any other:We stole it.
He hasn't bothered to elaborate on what he meant by that, and I'm not sure I would trust any answer he gave me at this point, so I haven't pressed him during our brief moments together.
Besides, I’m determined to find my own answers. Just as I'm determined to work out the bond between Sesca and me for myself. There's power in charting your own path, and Iam hanging on to every ounce of power I can so that no kingdom—Mouren or Dralsk or otherwise—can make an ignorant, unwilling weapon out of me.
