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“Collins,” I say, planting a kiss on Cecilia’s forehead before placing my daughter into his arms. He takes her, rather reluctantly, and she immediately starts screaming.
Then, before the guards can register whether they have the authority to stop me, I climb out of the bunker and run for the training room.
When I arrive, my sword is glinting in the sunlight, begging to be bloodied.
CHAPTER 73
EVANDER
This is it. This is when I die.
I started training too late. Realized too late. Perhaps if I hadn’t spent so many years with my face in a bottle, chasing after females I cared nothing for, perhaps then I would have gotten to live for Ellie. Live for Cecilia.
I just have to pray the Fates won’t punish them for my lack of preparation.
I struggle against the wyvern’s tail as it squeezes the breath out of me, but it’s no use.
The wyvern, its mouth dripping with venom, attacks.
I brace, whether for pain or an instantaneous death, I’m not sure.
But death does not come.
The wyvern’s maw halts just inches from my face. It soon begins writhing, though its tail remains wrapped around me. I struggle to free myself, but its flailing tosses me about, squeezing the air out of my lungs.
Black spots pepper my vision, but not enough that I don’t glimpse what saved me, if just for a moment.
A tangle of vines wraps itself around the wyvern’s neck, crushing its windpipe, wringing tighter the more it struggles.
And across the hall is my father, the King of Dwellen, staring up at the creature with delight burning in his eyes as he slowly kills my would-be murderer.
My father advances, his kingly robes whirling around him as he extends his hand.
Then squeezes.
There’s a sickening crunch as the thorns shear through flesh, separating the wyvern’s head from its body.
The head falls, jaw still agape in shock. It plunges toward me, but the limb of a tree slams into it, volleying it across the room.
The tail securing me loosens, my lungs gasping for breath as I fight my way out of its clutches.
I go to stand, to dust myself off and make myself less of a target for the insults that are surely coming, but before I can, a hand extends toward me.
I glance up at my father, unsure, but he nods and I take his hand. He pulls me to my feet. Where I expect mockery in his face, I find none.
“You fought valiantly,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion. “There aren’t many who would take on a beast of that size on their own. Few who would survive once a creature like that got them into its own territory.”
“Well, I don’t know that I had much of a choice,” I say.
My father frowns. “There is always a choice.”
I figure this is the point when my father will say something akin to, “You surprised me, boy. I would have expected you to run with your tail tucked between your legs,” or, “Had you applied yourself at the Academy you might not have needed to be rescued like a child.”
But he says none of these things. Instead, he studies me and says, “Your brother would have been proud of you.”
My throat tightens, my mouth hanging open, but no words come out.
“Dust yourself off, son.” My father nods toward the courtyard, where shrieks still rise to the sky. “We have a city to protect.”
