The calm and collected manner I’d spoken to the crowd convinced them. My first speech—the first planned out of two today—started a long march, where many of the dissenters traveled out of the city and to the outskirts. The venture took a good hour, and I walked with them, riding on Aura’s back and surrounded by the princes.
“What if this doesn’t work?” I asked Rylan, clutching at Aura’s furs.
He flew beside me. “Then we have to give it up.”
“Give it up? That doesn’t sound like you.”
Like me, Rylan hated to fail.
“Yeah,” he said, sighing. “I haven’t been feeling like myself these days.”
I wanted to smooth the crinkle over his brow. “Is it because of . . .”
“Your presence makes it all better,” he said, kissing me gently before flapping his wings. He took his rightful position at the front of the crowd.
I slipped off Aura’s back, and there we stood, in front of the derelict ash, with all eyes on me, awaiting my next move. It was thundering louder than I'd ever heard, and somewhere during our march, a drizzle had grown into a shower, and rain poured in buckets from the red skies.
Aereala did say it might not work.
What if it didn't? She couldn't be meaning to play such a cruel trick on me, could she? If this failed, the distrust from the people would grow tenfold, and there would be no way to resolve their anger. I wanted to count on Aereala. I convinced myself I should, if only because I needed her on my side.
Even Queen Dowager Miriel and Anatolia were among the crowd. She had her black wings out behind her back and stood on top of a roof to watch me. The Queen Dowager had been looking at me with increasingly harsher looks since the death of her husband. And now I'd made her lose her husband twice because of the whole incident with Gaean. I couldn't decide whether she was with or against me.
Anatolia clasped her mother's hand. She still looked gullible and innocent, even though she'd lost her father at such a young age. What would this cruel world morph her to become?
Micah held my shoulders and leveled blue, worried eyes at me. "Are you sure you want to do this, Sera?" He stood two heads taller than me, and I wished I could stay surrounded by his strong arms all the time. But hiding was never the answer.
"I already gave the speech to them once, hadn't I?" The audience from the capital was accompanied by that of my fellow townsfolk. Did they recognize me now that I was dressed so differently, and after I had grown so much over the years? Or did they still view me as the cursed girl who no one should trust?
Was the young boy I’d hurt with my curse so long ago among them?
Did it matter anymore?
The podium the guards set up for me looked similar to the one I saw the draerin official stand on that day when he read my name . . . made from wood, elevated slightly off the ground, and embellished by a short flight of steps.
When I climbed up those steps before, I had been filled with excitement and joy. Strange how I felt none of that joy now, even though I had reached the top of ladder the way I had wanted to so many years ago.
There were more important things than status—my life, for one, and then the responsibility that came with being on top. My shoulders hung heavier than usual.
Rylan stood next to the stage and barked orders to his guards. The security around here, both aerial and on land, was tight. Rylan wanted to make sure not a stray spell or arrow would get to me. The princes were paranoid since the attack from the assassin. Gaean and Vancel were still out there, and it was difficult to guess what they planned.
Micah cupped my cheek, drawing my attention away from my racing thoughts. "The speech is one thing. I'm worried about the spell. What if your body is unable to take it? You always look so tired after using the spell, and you just suffered a terrible wound."
"I'll be fine—"
"Hurry up!" a lady official called from the crowd. She threw a rock that barely reached far enough to hit me. "We don't have all day, you dragon cocksuckers!"
"Yeah!" another man shouted. "Stop dragging this thing out! Show us your fucking magic!"
Aura snarled at them, making them think twice about their insults.
The Constanrians huddled together, eager to watch the spectacle, wanting to get their answers. It must have been incredibly humid, which likely added to their foul moods.
Rylan glanced at the crowd and took a deep breath. I thought he might reprimand them, but it was Kael who began, "Watch your mouths! We could have your—
"Have our what?" another elderly male taunted. "There are thousands of us and a handful of you!"
The man was right. Even the numbers from the army looked small in comparison to the mass of Constanrian dissenters.
Kael reached for his dagger, but Rylan clasped his brother's elbow. Rylan shook his head, imploring Kael to not act on his anger. Kael snatched his elbow from Rylan and walked away with an annoyed expression.
Kael came up to me and kissed me so abruptly, I had no time to catch my breath.
"You're in a bad mood," I stated.
Kael ran his hand through his hair. "Oh yeah? How can you tell?"
I reached up with my thumb and placed pressure between his brow. "This usually isn't here. Smile for me?"
"Smile?"
"It'll help calm the nerves. Your smiles always make my day brighter."
Kael drew up the side of his features in a half-smile, half-scowl.
I snorted. "You look ridiculous."
"That's not what I hear from the ladies."
"Because they've never seen you wear that look."
He rolled his eyes. "And yet, you're the one I'm married to."
"That I am. You belong to me, Kael Everborne."
Kael pulled me toward him, until our bodies were flush. "Forever and always.” He picked up a strand of my hair and put it to his lips.
My interaction with Kael riled the crowd even more. They didn't like seeing us dally, not when they waited in a wet, humid atmosphere.
More curse words were thrown our way, and I had no choice but to face an incredibly sour audience.
"Wish me luck," I said. I puffed up my chest and blew out a worried breath.
"You don't need luck," Kael said. "You're the most capable woman I know and you can fight through everything through sheer will, even if it's two godlike assholes you have to deal with."
"Uh huh."
He winked at me and made a kissy face.
I climbed up the podium while my stomach sank with a dread.
The buzzing in my head wouldn't stop. I took out the slip of paper from my pockets. I'd hastily written a speech in preparation for this. The words, now that I looked at them again, sounded trite, bland, and ill-suited for the occasion.
"Well?" a paunchy, bearded peasant in the front shouted. His black, rotten fruit hit the metal of a draerin’s armor. "Are you just going to stand there like an idiot or are you going to show us what you promised?"
I brushed my fingertips across the paper and took my time folding it. Perhaps that was my very last bit of procrastination. And then I had to look up again, to meet the countless eyes. Some were afraid, some were curious.
Most were angry.
I tugged my attention away from the thrumming of my wound, my head, my nerves. I tried to pretend I looked at nothing at all and spoke from what I knew was truth. I had nothing to hide. There was assurance in that. "The goddess had stated that I'm to be her vessel. Many of you must know that already. Rylan Everborne, your king, had placed notices all over the city, and the priests have been spreading the word."
"Lies!" a little girl shouted.
I raised my brows, surprised by the tiny voice using such a venomous tone. "I'm merely stating facts. Believe me, your king is not at ease with this news. I am his wife, after all."
"A blasphemous relationship!" The rest of the audience broke out into a chorus of agreement. I knew I was the target of their harsh words; some of the nasty things the people spoke e
scaped the cacophonic raucous. Harlot. Witch.
A curse.
I waited a couple minutes for them to quiet, so I could finally have my say and give them the explanation they demanded. When they spent too long pointing fingers and acting like children, I summoned another voice amplification spell, using the souls in my satchel that were supposed to be for Aereala's spell.
"Enough!" I shouted.
My voice boomed and thundered over the people, like a stampede of baelbeasts. The force of it was so strong, the people had no choice but to listen to me. For a moment, their expressions were replaced by awe since I spoke with authority and power.
"You chide me for wasting time but you yourself do the same. Far worse, actually. The royals and I have been looking for an answer. We've spent the last year searching for clues, trying to summon the goddess, feeding the common folk by restoring the fields. But all you wish to do is blame those you rely on. You're happy with getting yourselves fat on my work when there is plenty to eat, but as soon as things don't go your way, you turn on us and demand to have our heads on a pike. My sister is kinder and more deserving than any of you, and yet she is rotting in a cell because you have to be appeased, like children. Can't you see how ugly you are? Aereala told me—yes, she spoke to me, and not you terrible folks—that the crops were dying because there were too many of you. Too many dragon-kind. Because you people can't seem to stop rutting and reproducing and filling the world with copies of yourselves, all foolhardy and equally as entitled.”
Satisfaction cascaded through me once the scolding left my lips. It might've been the wrong speech to say because it only earned me more glowering, but it felt good, and I regretted not shouting these words from the rooftops earlier. The slip of paper I had prepared earlier was now scrunched up in a useless ball, held in my fist.
The rioting grew louder, and I was afraid I'd invoked something violent. I wondered if humans could be this shallow, or if it were just dragon-kind. There was a reason why technological advancements plodded on so slowly despite the dragons having so many years to grow as a species. Records stated that dragon-kind were more prone to infighting, and countless wars, both civil and between countries, set them back many years.
The only thing keeping the crowd from pushing past the guards and racing to tear my throat out was that they still needed me. Despite the terrible things they’ve said, they wanted me to restore the fields.
I unclasped the top of my satchel and swung the lid open. Soul beads, glimmering with multicolored magic, rested in it. "Now watch as I give you something you do not deserve."
Aereala's power hummed in me, giving me the same rush I always felt. I had the spell memorized the very first day I used it. It was a short one, made just for me, and I couldn't quite bring a written piece of paper from the spiritual realm to the physical.
I raised my hands. The thunder became louder. Rain poured from the skies once more, the droplets catching flickers of crimson from the clouds above. The people’s clothes were soaked, and I loved watching their ridiculous forms as they shouted over the rainwater coating their faces. I could save them, but that didn't mean I couldn't have a good laugh at their stupid faces while doing so. I embraced the essence of Aereala, which simmered through me and turned my gaze to sky. I saw the princes watching me from the side. In this moment, I felt like a god, because I'd just spoken the words I wanted to for a long time. The anger and hatred lifted from me, leaving me renewed.
“Ad vitalis, restirante amina et grisoras mortarem desturecets.’
Aereala's power burst to life inside of me. The soul beads expelled their magic, which gathered in my fingertips. I cast my hands toward the fields. The power surged toward the ashen crops. Even though I'd done this multiple times, the people never saw me in action before.
My wound began to hurt.
The pain interfered with the magic, and Aereala's power, which bubbled in me, refused to come out whole. It thrashed against the confines of my skin. Aereala’s power needed to mix with the soul magic for the spell to fully work.
The heady rush that filled me just a second ago simmered away, and I was left staring in horror at the catastrophe that befell this event.
The magic misted over the fields. It died right after.
The crops were the same gray. The skies the same red.
I had promised the people too much.
It might not work—why did we not heed Aereala's words more closely?
Always, we were blinded by desperation, and it was difficult to learn from our lessons when more and more hardship fell upon us, putting us in tighter binds.
I glared up at the thunder, which quieted to a whimper when compared to what had been booming before. The rain lightened into a pathetic drizzle. Aereala had forsaken me, and I wanted to thrust my fist to sky and curse out the goddess's name.
Already I could hear the questions being exchanged in the audience. What was that? Was it supposed to happen? Had she been lying?
I shared a glance with Rylan. He had his jaw set in a resolute expression, almost as if he had expected, had planned, for this to happen. He thought I might fail?
There was more magic in the soul beads. I could try again. I readied the magic inside me and spoke the spell words once more. Just a minute ago, they’d left my lungs in a shout of triumph. Now, I repeated them in a careless rush, almost stumbling past some syllables. I sensed the same rush of magic inside me, the same gathering of power, and the same thrumming at my wound.
It just wouldn't work.
Over and over again, I repeated the spell, each one feeling less effective than the last.
The crowd surged forward. I was no longer their hope. The soldiers shifted into their draerin and drerkyn forms in a bid to protect royalty.
From my peripheral vision, I spotted Miriel Everborne gathering her daughter in her arms. The Constanrians went for them, too, even though they weren't involved in what I had done with the princes. Miriel called to her dragon form. Leathery, black wings, lined with spindly edges, spread out from her reptilian torso. She beat her wings that expanded through the skies, fleeing with her daughter before the people could dig their claws into her.
The Constanrians let Miriel go. They cared less for her. They wanted me.
I was failing.
I couldn't fail. Not in this. I summoned every ounce of strength I had in me and prepared to use the spell one last time. Warm liquid soaked my robes. I glanced down seeing red—my wound had re-opened. The white of my robes soaked up the liquid, and the red turned pink because of the rain.
"Sera!" one of the princes called for me. It was difficult to make out who shouted but he sounded distressed. Was it because I couldn't save them? "Sera, stop!"
A pair of strong hands grabbed my shoulders and forced me around, tearing my hazy eyes away from the ashen crops. My vision had gone blurry. I’d been overwhelmed by the need to save the ones I loved. Micah's angled face came into view. His features were tight. I breathed his name out in a whisper. When had I lost so much energy? My eyelids drooped. I needed rest.
"It's okay,” he said. He drew my head down against his chest. It was warm but also slippery because the rainwater dripped off his skin. His sweet scent surrounded me, standing out despite the death around us.
Behind him, I saw a guard pierce a middle-aged man through his gut. The contents of his stomach spilled out onto the floor. He was a handsome man. Fit, muscular. Maybe he had a child or two, or perhaps he had none. But his intestines looked like nothing but a heap of meat on the ground.
The guard was swallowed by the crowd soon after. A drerkyn flanked him and he had no time to defend himself as horns pierced through his throat.
Not all of Rylan’s soldiers were on our side. Many had decided to turn on their king, and the forces against us grew overwhelmingly greater.
Soldiers, all wearing blue uniforms, had divided into two factions.
My ingorias swept across the crowd, like three forces of natures. Even the dr
aerins were no match for them. The draerins were about the same size and could fly, but my canines relied on sheer animalistic instincts and were faster. A horse-sized dragon dived at Aura, and she snapped his neck before giving him time to react.
It was so noisy. The people . . . was it bad to think I’d rather let them die than have Aereala take my body? They were ridiculously difficult to want to sacrifice anything for. I just wanted them to burn in hell—if hell even existed, anyway. Was my soul going to go there for such thoughts?
I shivered. Why did this have to happen? “I . . . I couldn’t . . .”
Micah shushed me, constantly repeating it was all right, I didn’t have to worry, and he and his brothers had everything sorted.
I sank into Micah’s weight and my feet lifted off the stage beneath me.
Chapter Thirty
More than a year ago, my world crashed down around me when I lost my position at the council. I thought I had to go home and meet Ashryn Cadriel, my mother, or live a quiet life alone. I’d wanted fame. I’d wanted glory. If the same problems plagued me now, I would consider it a relief.
Micah surged through the winds with his white wings spread behind him. He carried me through the battle in his human form. I glanced up at his jaw with my blurry eyes. Was I crying or was my vision obscured from tiredness? I held his arm as tightly as I could.
“W-where are the others?” I asked. My stomach hurt just as much as it did in the cell.
Answering my question, Gaius swept into view beside me. A scratch sliced past his cheek and blood clumped in his short, black hair.
I searched around. “Kael and Rylan? Frederick?”
It was utter chaos. Dragons fought their own kind, and below, an army wearing Rylan’s colors clashed against the common folk. The peasants didn’t bear the same polished equipment the soldiers had, but they made up for it with tenacity and numbers. Fires burned through the landscape, lighting the streets of Aere Grove with an orange glow. The baker’s shop was up in flames, and the fighting charred the local school black. I recalled being disallowed to attend after my curse was revealed.
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