Fist of the Furor (21 page)

Chapter 31

It took a full week to lay all of the bodies in Aireesi to rest. Dragons brought more dead from the mountains; children, mothers, and frail men and women who’d fallen victim to the pendant’s power. Raemon was dead, our country left without a leader. The dragons, too, had lost warriors to the fight.

As a descendant of King Hedron, Cadeyrn was the heir to the Medeisian throne by right of blood. He accepted the crown, but only until a council could be formed and a new king coroneted. Rebels began trickling in from the mountains, many of them returning home for the first time in years. Families reunited, others grieved. It was a light and dark time for Medeisia.

Lochlen returned the dragon pendant to Feras, and though its presence caused some unrest among the dracon, they accepted the new breeding terms set by the rex.

We were a country in ruin, the village of Aireesi practically destroyed. It stank of refuse and old blood. With nowhere to go, I’d taken residence at the palace under Cadeyrn’s protection. I had two choices: return to Sadeemia and live in my father’s house, or remain in Medeisia. I couldn’t leave the forest. I couldn’t leave its whispering words and comforting arms. This was my world, even as desolate as it was now.

The New Hope dignitary and mercenaries
Raemon
had hired were gone. They had escaped on
wyvers
, their destination unknown. All of the scribes and mages forced to work under
Raemon
had been released, while noblemen serving under the king had been imprisoned for questioning. After meeting with a tribunal put together by Cadeyrn, Garod was reinstated as ambassador of Sadeemia. The pendant had played a crucial role in controlling the minds of a lot of the unmarked citizenry; it was a lot to consider. Due to her crimes, Taran was arrested for treason, and Mareth was allowed to return to Forticry with her father. She was a broken, ruined woman.

Three weeks after unseating Raemon, Cadeyrn had laid to rest hundreds of victims, had begun organizing a council, and had presided over dozens of trials. His father, King Freemont, had fallen into a coma. The healers were confident, but the longer he remained unconscious, the worse it appeared. Arien was now the reigning king in Sadeemia.

While Cadeyrn put Medeisia to rights, I stayed mostly to the woods, spending my days walking amongst the trees and returning to the palace at night. The castle walls were full of too many ghosts, too many hateful memories I couldn’t forget.

It was the fourth week after the rebellion that Cadeyrn found me. I was sitting on the ramparts wearing the tunic made of dragon hide Lochlen had given me. My hair had finally reached my shoulders, and I’d wrestled it back behind my head with a ribbon. Most of it slipped free, waving wildly around my face in the breeze. I was still healing from the rebellion, my neck fading from black to green. The scratch on my cheek was a light pink shade that would whiten over time.

The sun was rising over the horizon when the prince joined me on the ledge. Pink and violet chased each other across the sky, playing hide and seek with the rising ball of orange. White clouds dotted the atmosphere. It promised to be a sunny day, a welcome respite from the frigid, grey weeks we’d suffered.

“You’ve been hiding in the trees,” Cadeyrn murmured.

I glanced at him. “The forest is a healing place, Your Majesty.”

Cadeyrn caught my hand. The marks on my wrist were gone. Every rebel who’d survived the attack was mark free, their lives full of possibility. They’d never be the same, but they had a chance at freedom. Only a scar marred my flesh now. It wasn’t until later I’d discovered Cadeyrn had bound me by blood to the dragons. Sometimes, I felt the pendant’s strength running through my veins, and it scared me.

“I think you’ve earned the right to call me Cadeyrn,” the prince said.

I should have pulled my hand away, but I didn’t.

His gaze searched mine before he suddenly stood, bringing me with him.

A soft smile played on his lips. “You don’t smell like her,” he murmured. “You don’t look like her, you don’t taste like her, and you don’t speak like her. You remind me of the sun when it’s rising. Other times, you remind me of a wounded animal, too afraid to be touched.” He gestured at the village below. “You’ll never be the same, Aean Brirg. There will be no more war moments. No reason will ever seem reason enough to fight again. War does that. It strips you bare, and still manages to keep stealing from you.”

I gazed up at him. “Then why do you keep doing it?”

His head lowered. “That moment when you saved hundreds of rebels at the cost of your own life. That moment when Lochlen asked me to drive a sword into his heart to save you and the dragons.
Those
moments are why I keep doing it.”

I touched his cheek, my palm catching on stubble. “You remind me of the Archives.”

He chuckled. “I remind you of books?”

For the first time in weeks, I felt myself smile. “When I stand inside an Archive, I feel like I’m with an old friend. There is wisdom there, the smell of leather and ink. It’s comfortable and full of love. But it can also be terrifying.” My gaze met his. “Find the right book, and there’s always the danger of being lost.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the sound of the wind loud in our ears. The sun chose that moment to break free, scattered rays thrown over our faces. Above us, a falcon called.

“Aean Brirg,” Cadeyrn whispered.

Little bird.

His lips were warm when they met mine, gently insistent. His hands slid into my hair, pulling my ribbon free before running his fingers down the strands. Our tongues danced. His fingers traveled the planes of my face, skirting the scar on my cheek before cupping my bruised neck. His lips suddenly brushed my collar bone, as if his kiss alone was enough to rid me of the pain.

My hands gripped the front of his shirt, my fingers digging into the fabric.

He’d left his tunic unlaced, and I traced the top of his tattoo before leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his chest. It should have been awkward, this strange dance of kisses. It was like being a child again, having hurts healed simply by kissing them away.
 

His lips pressed against my forehead. “Aean Brirg.”

There was pain behind the words, and I realized in that moment why this kiss felt so different. He was saying good-bye.

Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulled me into him. His body pressed against mine, his lips tasting my lips. This kiss tasted like the wind, beautiful but fleeting.

“Birds,” he whispered suddenly against my ear, “are often magnificent survivors.”

He pulled away then, his gaze searching mine, and I knew before he even said a word that this had to be enough for both of us. Cadeyrn had become a comfort to me. He’d been a war torn man marred by tragedy who’d still managed to help a grieving young woman. He’d fought with the rebels, offering us a large part of himself despite the fact that we’d never been meant to survive. But he wasn’t mine.

My fingers tightened in his shirt.

His hand closed over mine. “Gabriella has been sent back to Greemallia, and the marriage has been annulled.” His fingers tightened. “Catriona is pregnant.”

My eyes fell closed. It didn’t surprise me really. I’d been the one to suggest the union, and yet the pain that lanced through my heart was stronger than I’d ever expected it to be. Cadeyrn was the second prince of a very large nation. With New Hope threatening to attack both his country and mine, he needed his alliance with Henderonia more than ever.

It took everything I had to let go, but I was an Aean Brirg and birds are often magnificent survivors.

I walked away from him then, my hands finding the rampart’s edge. He didn’t come to me. We were from two different worlds, two people plagued by the nightmares of war and politics.

“I’d like to make a request,” I said suddenly.

Cadeyrn didn’t answer me, but I knew he listened.

“I’d like to become an official scribe.” I glanced over my shoulder. “This country was once ruled by scribes, their knowledge a powerful tool to its success before the first Dracon War. There are inscriptions on the ruins here in the city. Trees with the word ‘knowledge’ embedded in their leaves.” I turned to face the prince. “I’d like to be a part of that.” I gestured at the village. “A school maybe? An Archives, a place where people can go to gain knowledge. Medeisia has a long way to go.”

Cadeyrn smiled. “Aean Brirg, a scribe of Medeisia.” He nodded. “You’ll have your school, you’ll sit on the king’s council, and you will have your license.”

I returned his smile. “You make a great king.”

His gaze went to the sky before he turned away. “You make a better scribe.” He paused at the top of the stairs leading down from the ramparts. “She’s not you,” he said suddenly.

And with that, he was gone.

I faced the horizon, the smile on my face growing. I wasn’t the phoenix. I was just a girl. And yet, I was more. It was often the smaller characters, the people behind the hero who helped win the war. It wasn’t always about being a savior. Sometimes, it was about being the hero of your own story. True greatness often comes when we allow ourselves to be great. I’d learned a great deal about myself recently. I’d learned that sometimes being a hero is fighting when you’re afraid, never giving up in the face of adversity, and to live even when life doesn’t seem worth living. Life wasn’t about what I’d lost; it was about what I still had to gain.

Below me in the forest, a wolf howled. A
kek,kek
filtered down from the sky, and I caught a hint of gold on the horizon. Lochlen.

I patted my chest, and then lifted my hands to the clouds. I didn’t have to worry whether or not Lochlen saw it, his answering stream of fire was answer enough. Dragons could fly free now in Medeisia. We were a country in ruins, a country vulnerable to attack, but I was going to be a part of changing that. Why?
Because I was Aean Brirg, a dragon rider, and a scribe of Medeisia.

COMING in FALL 2014

City in Ruins: The Scribes of
Medeisia
Book 4

BONUS

An exclusive synopsis sneak peek at a new fantasy series by R.K.
Ryals
coming 2015

The Spices of
Guarda
Series Book 1

Secrets of the Hearth

“In spice there is death, reason, and life.”

Seventeen year-old Lavender Golding lives in the chaotic spice markets of
Guarda
, her fingers forever stained from her work in the Duke of Caraway’s kitchens. As an indentured servant paying off her noble father’s debt, she wants nothing more than to be free, to go in search of a family secret her mother entrusted her with as a child. For there is one thing Lavender has always been good at … spice.

In the dense jungle nation of
Yorbrook
, a sickness grows. It is driving its people mad. It eats away at the flesh until there is nothing left of the victim but a pile of ash.
Yorbrook’s
king has become desperate, his family placed in hiding. There is talk of a cure in the mountains of
Guarda
. For the plague that racks
Yorbrook
is no ordinary plague.

Arawn
is a jungle mercenary knighted by the king and sent across the Raging Sea to
Guarda
. The plague ravages
Yorbrook
, but will the cure be worth the fight? For in the mountains of
Guarda
lies a sleeping monster …