Keepers of the Flames (In the Eye of the Dragon Book 3)

by N M Zoltack

  The other speaker was Horatia, but Vivian barely recognized that fact, too intent on the words coming forth from the female warrior’s mouth.

  “What happened to the princess?” Aurelia asked.

  “Some say she lives yet, spirited away. No one knows for certain, but rumors suggest that she has been living on one of the islands, most likely Xalac.”

  “Whether or not the Li princess lives does not matter. You’re right. Without an army, she has nothing. Antonius Gallus will soon be king of all of Vincana Proper, all of Dragoona, and none will ever be able to reclaim the throne away from him. Marcellus is a fierce warrior and a fine young man. When he is king, all will love and respect him, and Dragoona will know peace as she never has before.”

  Vivian scowled. The dragons, three beings supposedly beyond corruption, had not been able to coerce humans into lasting peace. How could one man attempt to do that which the dragons themselves failed despite their great might?

  Then again, how could one woman in Rosalynne try to do the same?

  Maybe Dragoona was not to ever know harmony. Perhaps war and fighting and bloodshed were her only future until one day when the war destroyed the land itself.

  28

  Prince Marcellus Gallus

  The day had come, the hour near. The ships were ready, and the male warriors were finalizing the preparations they needed for war.

  “Father, My King, are you certain you do not wish to lead the legionaries yourself?” Marcellus inquired. The two were alone in the forum, and the prince leaned against one of the grand columns.

  “No, my son. You go. You have already set foot on Tenoch soil. I trust in you. You will not only avenge your fallen friend but also claim every inch of Tenoch for Vincana Proper. From there, we can conquer the islands and force them under our rule. The pathetic guards Tenoch would send to the islands, to our continent, are an insult. Without a proper contingency of both soldiers and civilians, how can they dare to even call their kingdom Tenoch Proper? They never truly ruled over all of Dragoona, and we will soon, through your blade and the blades of your legionaries and Valkyries, dissuade them of that ridiculous and preposterous notion.”

  “Certainly, My King,” Marcellus murmured.

  His teeth were on edge, and he attempted to breathe out his anger and frustration. How incompetent both queens had turned out to be. Neither one of them had been able to locate Rufus Vitus’s murderer, and he would never forgive either of them for it.

  “Go and see to your preparations,” his father said. “You are to leave at dawn.”

  “I will be ready.”

  “Will you wish for a feast in your honor before you go?”

  Marcellus barked a laugh. “I have done nothing to earn one yet.”

  “Is that a no?”

  “No,” Marcellus said flatly.

  “Very well. The feast upon your return will more than make up for the lack of one now.”

  Marcellus nodded his head deeply to his father and marched out of the forum. His toga hugged him as he strolled along the sand in his sandals, and it wasn’t long before he came to the area where the females were training.

  Both Horatia Ramagi and Aurelia Lupus were barking orders and instructions to the various females in their small groups, fighting and training hard. As he watched, Horatia managed to disarm a female without even drawing her own weapon. Impressive.

  Aurelia, however, was yelling at a female so loudly and viciously that her face was entirely red. Marcellus watched as the dark-haired, dark blue-eyed female did not cower. If anything, she adjusted her stance and lunged and parried a blow that had just gotten past her defenses a moment ago. A quick study this one was, and in short order, she ended up disarming her opponent, a blond with light blue eyes.

  Marcellus found himself walking toward them and overheard Aurelia say, “Your arrogance will get you killed. You’re too undisciplined yet.”

  And Aurelia whipped out a blade and proceeded to attack the girl with such savagery that Marcellus thought should only be saved for the battlefield against their sworn enemy.

  To her credit, the dark-haired girl—young lady truly as she was only a few years younger than himself—managed to hold her own for about a minute before Aurelia sent her blade flying into the distance, but the young lady merely backed away, producing a small knife from within her clothes.

  Aurelia was unfazed and, after a few parried blows, disarmed the female again.

  Marcellus clapped. “Altogether not that bad,” he said, speaking more to Aurelia than the young lady.

  Aurelia grunted. “She’s still too raw yet. I don’t understand how or why.”

  “She lasted longer than I did against you the first time we sparred.”

  "Did she?" Aurelia smirked. "I was not about to go lightly on you because of who your father is."

  “As you shouldn’t.”

  “Can you best her now?” the dark-haired young lady asked. She appeared more winded than she sounded, her conditioning impressive.

  “You should show your prince more respect,” Aurelia snapped.

  The young lady pursed her lips. “Can you best her now, My Prince?” she asked.

  Was she mocking him? Or was she being serious? Her dark blue eyes peered at him. Ever since his people had named him prince, many found it impossible to look at Marcellus’s face, even those who normally had previously, but she did not suffer from this affliction. After a moment, he deduced she was serious.

  “It depends on the day,” he answered.

  Aurelia sighed and rolled her eyes. “Run off, Cateline. Perhaps I’ll train you in the morning.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?” Cateline asked.

  “Yes,” Marcellus asked, crossing his arms. “Why not? She seems capable enough.”

  “Could she bring down Tenoch soldiers, their guards? Yes. Maybe even a few of their knights, but she cannot reliable best our own warriors. How can we send her if she is not primed and ready?”

  “I never said to send her. I said to train her so that she would one day be ready to be sent,” Marcellus said mildly.

  “Is it too late to be sent with the first wave?” Cateline asked, sounding more breathless than she had previously.

  Marcellus felt for her. She longed to fight for her kingdom even after being told that she was not ready yet and could end up sacrificing herself.

  As Rufus had, although his battlefield had actually been a dance floor.

  This conversation was between the trainer and the trainee, and Marcellus moved to continue on. He wished to speak with Horatia, to see if she had chosen all of her Valkyries yet.

  But Aurelia waved her hand toward Marcellus. “Since the prince is here, you can ask him since you seem to think yourself worthy enough to address him without permission.”

  “None need permission to speak to me,” Marcellus said firmly. He might be a prince, but he did not, in truth, feel all that different. Perhaps once he had a throne and a crown, that might change.

  “Well then?” Cateline asked eagerly. “May I go?”

  He appraised her critically and then withdrew his sword.

  Her eyes widened, and she grinned. She was smiling! At the notion of fighting him for the right to fight for him. He liked this one.

  Cateline dashed over and retrieved her blade from where Aurelia had cast it aside earlier. He only allowed her time to crouch into position before he leapt forward for a blow. She parried easily and did not counter, instead moving about in a circle, watching him.

  The young lady was searching for weaknesses. Marcellus smirked and placed his left hand behind his back. A few more blows were blocked, and then he began to fight with a slight more edge.

  Her nervousness came out then, and she attacked, taking the offense. She was eager, far too eager, and he could have disarmed her several times over. Still, he allowed the fight to continue, aware that a crowd had gathered to witness the duel. Cateline did not seem to notice, or perhaps she did as she renewed her frant
ic energy, hacking st him, using brute force more than skill to the point that he had no choice but to end the fight. Instead of disarming her, he maneuvered his sword past her defenses, the tip of his blade beneath her chin.

  She set her jaw, glaring at him, and he grimaced. As much heart as she had shown, he could not send her. He would hate for her to die for him, even though he knew that many who would board the ships would never return to Vincana under the power of their legs.

  “One day, you will be a Valkyrie. Of that, I am certain. Remain here. Train more. Prove me right.” He sheathed his sword.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please, My… My Prince.”

  Marcellus just walked away.

  He found Horatia within the crowd. The fiercely strong woman introduced Marcellus to her Valkyries. She insisted that they all eat together, but Marcellus did not consume much, even though the meat and poultry dishes all smelled divine and appealing. How could he enjoy this food when not everyone present would survive the coming battles?

  Likewise, that night Marcellus could hardly sleep, and even before the sun had risen, his ship was cast off.

  It was time to sail to war.

  He was ready.

  29

  Sir Edmund Hill

  Dutifully, Edmund marched along the coastline of the Ember Sea that separated the continents of Tenoch and Vincana. Even with the lens to help him see farther away than the naked eye could allow, Edmund saw no signs of ships, just as he hadn’t for the past two weeks he had been assigned this duty.

  The work itself was not tiresome, but it was weary just the same. The constant reminder that war was coming set Edmund’s teeth on edge. The waters were calm, though, serene, but soon enough, ships would be cutting through the waves, intent on annihilation, devastation, and obliteration. The Vincanans prided themselves on their skill with blades. They were the fiercest warriors in all of Dragoona, and they knew it.

  But Edmund was a knight, and so he was not worried. Tenoch would fight back and succeed. Of that he had no doubt.

  No, his doubts centered very much on himself. His thoughts constantly turned to Tatum even though he knew they shouldn't. Had she and Dudley been able to secure a building for their inn yet? Would Tatum be able to stay on at her shop as an alchemist, or would she have to give that up?

  It would be a simple enough matter to ask either Dudley or Tatum these questions, but Edmund had been avoiding them. He could not bring himself to see the happy couple.

  Soft footsteps on the sand behind him had Edmund whirled around. His hand fell to his hilt out of habit more than from fear for his own life, and he scowled when he saw who was approaching.

  Tatum.

  Other guards were posted several sand dunes away on the beach. Everyone was searching the waters for signs of the enemy. Considering Jurian, who did not care for the alchemist because of his prejudice, was the closest to Edmund's position, the knight hoped Jurian did not glance this way and spy Tatum.

  “Why are you here?” Edmund asked gruffly once Tatum halted a few steps away.

  “Am I not allowed to see how my brother is doing?” she asked softly. “I hardly saw you after the wedding. It is almost as if you are avoiding me.”

  “I am not,” he muttered.

  Tatum blinked a few times, and her shoulders slumped. “Edmund…”

  He turned his back to her, face the water directly. He should have been a privateer. He never should have met her. He never should have taken that trek to the swamp with Tatum. She had met his brother first, and they had fallen in love.

  But what if she had met Edmund first?

  These thoughts tortured Edmund late at night, when he should be resting. As such, he hardly ever was in bed. He trained instead, hardening his body, preparing for war.

  As frightening as some found the prospect of war, Edmund almost relished in it. Atlan especially but all of Tenoch was what he loved and would eagerly die to defend… only perhaps not quite so eagerly as before he had met a certain female alchemist.

  Was Jurian right about her all along? Was this the way of all female alchemists, sowing seeds of dissension and distrust wherever they go? But even if he to cut ties with his brother, that would not have lasting effects on the kingdom, and that was all that mattered.

  Edmund was willing to die for Tenoch, but what of Tenoch Proper? Was it possible that the united islands and continents could be combined once more after this rebellion was squashed? Or would the landscape change such that Tenoch Proper would soon refer only to the islands and Tenoch continent with Vincana alone as a separate sovereign nation? Would the islands attempt to rise up should Vincana gain its freedom? The islands had such little populous, however. Unless they were to unite with Vincana against Tenoch, they would not hope to be free from Tenoch, but then they would have a new master in Vincana despite the leagues of Vast Waters between the lands.

  “You are tortured,” she murmured. “I can sense it, especially late at night.”

  Edmund bristled. “You should not be able to sense me,” he snapped. “Pay heed to your husband an no other.”

  “My husband is not the only person in the world I care about,” she said, her tone becoming sharp as well. “Nor you. Your parents are lovely, my clients…”

  “What of the queen?”

  “Queens?” Tatum corrected gently.

  Edmund flushed. He should be far more careful with his tongue. Yes, the younger queen had been the one to knight him when she had yet been a princess, and so his allegiance swayed more toward her than the queen the king had married shortly before his death.

  “Queen Rosalynne’s birthright—” he started.

  “She must marry and come of age, and with the coming war…”

  “She will survive to have her crown,” Edmund said through gritted teeth.

  “You will see to that personally? You would if you could. I can tell.”

  “Do not sense me,” he spat out. “Do not attempt to know more about me than you should.”

  “Edmund—”

  “You should go.”

  The sand shifted as she began to walk, but instead of away, she moved to stand before him. He stubbornly stared above her head at the peaceful, gently crashing waves.

  “What have I done to offend you?” she murmured.

  The confusion in her tone caused his heart to ache, and he met her gaze. Her blue eyes did not appear as steely as they normally did, and he hated himself for being the source of her pain.

  But then her eyes brightened, and she sidestepped him and climbed the dune. He watched as she found the basket he had made for her. Edmund hadn't the heart to destroy it and so had started to use it to carry a midday meal to the beach so that he might not have to stop his patrol until nightfall. Then, another guard would take up his position to guard the waters and watch for any sign of the enemy approaching.

  “What a lovely basket,” Tatum exclaimed.

  Pride swelled Edmund’s chest, and his long strides brought him to her side. “I made it for you. I intended to give it to you on your wedding day.”

  “I love it.” She beamed.

  Seeing her happiness, knowing he was the cause, angered him, perhaps irrationally. “You are just pretending to like it,” he said. “See? It is misshapen, and a ribbon for the handle? It’s ridiculous—”

  “You cannot tell me what I appreciate and love and what I do not,” she said firmly. “Why do you doubt my word?”

  Edmund scowled and turned aside. It would be far better to push her aside, yes? Until he could truly be her brother and not feel for her as a brother most certainly shouldn’t, Edmund needed distance. That she had come to see him, although her intentions were noble, only served to amplify his pain. Each smile, each word she spoke, only reminded him of what he could not have with her and might never share with another.

  “I need you…” He hesitated.

  As much as he needed her to respect boundaries, he found himself unable to ask her to do just that. He was we
ak, vulnerable, especially when she was near.

  “So much anger,” she murmured. “No fear for your own life. War is coming, of that I am certain, but you do not fear death. No, you are afraid of something else. Edmund, I wish you would talk to me.”

  His tongue felt thick in his mouth, and he shook his head, unable to speak.

  Tatum sighed and then offered him a timid smile. “Dudley loved the present I gave him, and for that, I have you to thank. I cannot express my gratitude enough.”

  She lifted onto her toes and kissed his cheek. Then, she walked away.

  Edmund told himself not to look, not to watch her leave, but he did. He ignored his duty, ignored the waters, and stared at Tatum’s backside until he could no longer see her. He wasn’t at all surprised to hear that they had a connection, but it frightened him. A knight and a female alchemist… that could surely cause disaster for the realm. What if her distracting him caused Tenoch to lose the war?

  The knight glanced over his shoulder at the Ember Sea and then stared off into the distance where Tatum had departed from his side.

  All his life, Edmund had wished to be a strong, noble knight. He had worked hard for that goal and accomplished his quest. Now, his mission should be tethered to his knighthood, to his code, yet all he could think of was a brunette with blue eyes who had captured his heart… and his brother’s.

  30

  Rase Ainsley

  The Mean Bear, surprisingly, was one of the cleanest taverns Rase had ever set foot in. The air was filled with the scent of food and not unwashed bodies nor smoke. Granted, he had to walk past a cloud of filth in order to walk inside as those villagers who smoked were gathered out the doors. Still, that kept the air inside clean as all the windows were shut.

  Rase glanced all around and smiled. The persons inside this tavern seemed to have a great deal of coins. Their clothes were not made from linen and cotton, as the peasants always wore. No, he spiked silk and velvet, and the dyed colors were so very bright and vibrant, not at all faded or worn. The longer one's clothes could sit in the dye, the longer and brighter the color became. Rase had learned about that from wandering the marketplace years ago. For the anniversary of Leanne's naming day, a young Rase had attempted to re-dye one of her favorite dresses that had faded from its original blue. Unfortunately, the berries he had chosen to smash and crate the dye from merely stained the dress in weird blotches. Thankfully, he had been able to wash the stains out in a pond, but that only made the dress even more faded. To this day, he did not think Leanne suspected what he had tried.