Page 23 of Season Warriors & Wolves

“We both have selfish fathers, Guardian,” she said, parting her skirts to the side and pulling a silver rod out of a leather sheath hidden between them. She held the sceptre piece in her palms, extending them to me. “The difference is that I did it for glory and you are doing it to keep your loved ones safe.”

“It might bring destruction.”

She lifted a brow. “Do you not want it?”

I stepped forward and took it from her, the rod gleaming white at my touch. “What about you?”

“I will remain here until you return it back to the safety of my hands.”

“Your world might need you. Your people might need you. If they only knew you are alive, that a prime Scarlet is still alive, one bearing the surname and blood of a Veranesi, they would not surrender to the guilt of their old king’s fault. Not to my father’s oppression.”

“I have faith that someone good will lead them back to glory—blood of a prime Scarlett or not, blood of the Veranesi line or not. Fire rages, it cannot be oppressed.”

I frowned. “Are you chained here?”

“Willingly.”

“And if you chose to leave?”

“I gave up that right.”

“By word of mouth and not in a curse or craft.”

“To me, it holds the same weight.”

She might be the Scarlet in this room, but my nerves were simmering hotter than the Drayrior volcano up north of this burnt island. “You will get out.”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you hearing what I am saying at all? There is war. After my father takes my kingdom, he will come for this one next. Perhaps he already has. We cannot afford to be gracious and repent for our faults. We cannot afford to be sad. I cannot afford to weep for my friend who was killed! Yet you sit here, doe eyed and unafraid while your people, mine and everyone else is suffering when you could be beside them fighting. Your people surrendered their blessings. They gave up on power that could serve to hold this realm safe. They chose to keep doing so despite what was thrust upon them—famine, war, control, slavery. They had no one to guide them, to tell them that they bear no fault. The fault was not theirs. I made mistakes, too! I let my father live when I had the chance to kill him! And I am going to make sure that I fix my mistakes. Not repent for them. Not surrender my magic just because it can do harm. Fire and lightning are a blessing. A coin gods tossed. We chose which side it lands on.”

“I did what it felt right to do.”

“Well, does it still feel right?” Pure soul, Visha had said. This was deemed pure. Since when did selfishness become a trait of the pure?

The look she had on told me that there was no convincing her otherwise. Fire was also stubborn.

I turned, giving her my back and heading to the dragon. The creature got in its legs and stumbled back when a honed ice blade grew in my hold.

I took the chains binding the creature and froze them, striking my blade on the now fragile chain to break it.

It took me an hour to get all of them down, and by the end, I dropped to the ground, panting. The dragon lowered its nostrils to sniff me before curling its massive body around mine.

Tentatively, I reached my hand to its face again and stood. “Go. Leave! And while you do so, burn every tent, building, ship and soldier holding the wolf crest that you see on your path. Burn every winter born. Burn them all. Then head southeast, follow the moon and the star of the south, under where the Henah blessed rest,” I ordered. “Find the castle by the Moor Sea, with grand gardens and ivory walls. Don’t hurt them. They will not hurt you back.” I pulled my glove off and showed the dragon my left hand marked with our union—two souls made one had the same scent to Dyurin’s creatures. The dragon's eyes drew shut for a moment before it huffed almost in agreement. “Others might want to chain you again, but he will keep you safe. I promise.”

“Jayre cannot leave the cave,” the fire princess said. “He hasn’t seen any humans beside me in five hundred years.”

“What a luck. Isjordians give the warmest welcome,” I said, waving the creature off. “They burn impeccably well; I'll tell you that.”

Nilsa still stood in the corner, brown eyes wide, watching the dragon shuffle in its claws, stretching its sore wings and crawling towards the exit. “This is not how it is supposed to go.”

Supposed? “Well, how was it supposed to go?”

“Goodness prevails.”

“No, evil prevails.” And on que, the sound of outside struggle began sipping inside of the cave, faintly.

She frowned. “Out of all, you should be the last to think so.”