City in Ruins

by R. K. Ryals

  His gaze searched her face. “I’m going to ask you again,” he said. “Did you kill my wife and son?”

  Deep down, we all knew she’d committed the crime, but this was closure for Cadeyrn. He needed to hear the words, as if hearing her confession would close that chapter in his life somehow. Sometimes the hardest things to hear are the things we need to hear the most.

  Queen Isabella’s head lifted, her gaze swinging to the crowd.

  “Did you kill my wife and son?” he repeated.

  Her gaze swung back to his. She was going to die, and she knew it. “Yes,” she spat.

  Cadeyrn exhaled, and even from across the lawn, I could feel the weight of his sigh.

  After the trial, Queen Isabella was left guarded on the lawn, her hands tied to a post on the training field. She stood for a half a day before a verdict was passed down.

  In the end, it was decided that she was to die of Black Root poisoning. It would be a painful and poetic death, the toxic root seeping through her veins for all to see.

  In the end, it was Cadeyrn who gave it to her. And while Arien looked away at the end as frothing bubbles ran out of the sides of the queen’s mouth, her black, bloated body convulsing, Cadeyrn never did.

  He watched, and truth be told, I watched with him.

  I didn’t rejoice in her death, but I was happy to see the end of her reign of terror.

  Chapter 33

  It was the night before my return to Medeisia when Prince Cadeyrn came to me. How I knew he stood on the other side of my door, I’ll never know. But I knew, my palm pressing against the wood before I pulled it open. He’d never even gotten a chance to knock.

  Stepping back, I let him enter.

  Tonight, for the first time in our relationship, we were switching places. Tonight, when his heart was full of chaos, he was coming to me to calm it. There were no words between us. He simply stood before me, his hand lifting to brush the hair from my face, his gaze searching my eyes.

  We were beyond words now. We’d traveled to a place without words.

  As powerful as it was to speak, as powerful as it was to know things, it was just as powerful to listen. It was just as powerful to love.

  I touched his face, the shadowed whiskers on his jaw burning my palm, before letting my fingers sink into his hair.

  I’d gone often to the prince to draw strength from him in the past. Tonight, I wanted to return the favor. I’d learned a lot about my powers over the past two years, and it had strengthened me.

  Grabbing Cadeyrn’s hand, I tugged him toward the window in my room. It was open, as it usually was, the moon shining over the city below, the light glinting off of the ocean in the distance.

  Stepping in front of the prince, I drew his arms around me.

  “Listen,” I whispered.

  Clutching him, I called on my magic, the feel of it rising inside of me, the power almost suffocating. I didn’t stop. I kept pulling until I felt the weight of the forest surrounding us both, the heavy taste of pine and berries on my tongue, the smell of soil and flowers invading my nostrils.

  Beyond the castle, the trees spoke softly.

  “Good evening, Your Majesty,” they called.

  Cadeyrn’s arms tightened around me.

  “Is that—?” he began.

  Smiling, I nodded.

  This world, the world of forests and the creatures in it, was mine. I admit, I was selfish, their love wrapping me in an embrace I never wanted to escape from. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to share it with the prince again, and so I shared it with him now.

  “Listen,” I told him.

  Beyond the castle, the trees murmured, the ocean sang, and creatures whispered. Somewhere over the sea, two seagulls dove in a late night game.

  “What did the dog say to the cat when he didn’t get his way?” the first seagull asked.

  “Dog gone it!” the other seagull answered.

  Behind me, the prince winced. “You’re right,” he said. “They really do tell bad jokes.”

  Together, we listened to the forest, to the ocean, and to the world. Because that’s what the prince needed to find himself. He needed to stop and listen. He needed to be a part of the world.

  Sighing, Cadeyrn held me, his chin falling to my shoulder, the breeze ruffling his hair. His hands fell to my waist, one of his palms splaying across my stomach.

  “You needn’t worry,” I told him.

  My hand fell over his, and I called to the potted plants sitting in my room. From the soil, vines suddenly sprung upward before jumping to the floor. They crawled across the space, inching their way slowly over to our feet. Climbing us, they circled our bodies and built a crown over our hands.

  “He already calls to them,” I said.

  The vines fell away, and Cadeyrn exhaled. “Gabethian,” he breathed. “Because his mother was the woman who triumphed over adversity. Because his mother is the Queen of the Forest.”

  I looked up at him. “Because his father is as strong as steel. Because his father is as calm and as malevolent as the ocean when he needs to be.”

  There were no more words after that.

  Wrong or not, we let our bodies say good-bye for us.

  Chapter 34

  The sun had only just begun to rise, the dew heavy on the ground when Reenah, Oran, and I climbed onto Lochlen’s back. Medeisia, its forests and mountains, were calling to us. For two weeks after Queen Isabella’s death, I’d met with the king’s council, presided over by Arien and Cadeyrn. For two weeks, I was the voice of the dragons and my gods. For two weeks, I begged for change and for Medeisian leadership.

  In the end, I won.

  It was decided that Feras would continue to rule in the place of a human king until my son could come of age. Cadeyrn had recognized the child, signing the necessary paperwork in front of an entire council of men and women proclaiming Gabethian Torrance Bernhart as his heir, the son of a scribe and the son of a future king.

  My stomach was only slightly more round than it had been before, but it didn’t matter. The forest and the gods had shown me what my son was going to look like, and I was proud.

  The night before, I’d said good-bye to a prince. Today, I flew toward my future.

  Climbing onto Lochlen’s back, I offered Reenah my hand and she took it.

  “Don’t let me fall,” she begged.

  I smiled back at her. “Only the wolf has to worry about that.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Oran muttered.

  A few feet away, a green dragon sat on the lawn, Maeve and Daegan on his back. I started to wave at them and paused, my gaze falling to my wrists. The marks, the ones given to me by the gods, were gone.

  Lochlen’s golden head rose, his yellow-green eyes catching mine. “When are you going to start having faith in me?”

  I chuckled. “When I start having faith in myself.”

  He winked. “Then you and I have a lot of nights flying across the moon to learn.”

  With that, he jumped into the air, his wings flapping. Reenah squealed, but I laughed. I laughed, and I laughed, one fist rising into the air.

  Free. We were free.

  Lochlen circled upward before diving over the palace grounds. I saw Cadeyrn below in the practice field, his sword clinking against his opponent.

  Kings, dragons, forests, magic, knowledge, and men.

  Epilogue

  Five years later …

  The scribe school was flowing with scholars, and I nodded at most of them as I made my way across the lawn to the forest. Just within the shelter of the trees, there was a cottage. It wasn’t a large cottage, only three rooms altogether, but it was mine. And while Feras had insisted I stay in the palace—as the mother of a king and a consort of dragons—I’d refused. Gabethian needed the trees. I needed the trees.

  Laughter filtered through the underbrush, and I grinned as I ducked under the tree limbs to find Daegan and Maeve sitting in the clearing just beyond my home. A heavenly scent floated on
the breeze from the cottage, and I knew that was Reenah’s doing. As much as I’d tried to learn how to cook, it had been hopeless. I was much better at foraging, riding a dragon’s back, teaching a roomful of scholars, healing the sick, and shooting a bow. Among other things.

  A little boy with mahogany-colored hair and green eyes stood just outside the back door, a hand on his hip, his narrowed gaze on the man-dragon looming over him. A wooden sword hung from each of their hands.

  “You cheated!” Gabethian cried.

  “I did not!” Lochlen replied, his tone full of mock hurt.

  I cocked a brow.

  Gabethian sulked. “Yes, you are! I can tell!”

  Everyone froze. My gaze met Lochlen’s, and then slid away.

  Gabethian sniffed. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

  Reenah appeared in the back doorway, her body leaning against the opening. “Sweetie, if I tell you something, can you tell me if I’m lying?” she asked.

  Gabethian nodded.

  Reenah smiled. “My father was a woodcutter, and my mother was a baker when I was a little girl. It’s where I learned to cut wood and bake tasty molasses cookies.”

  Gabethian frowned. “Your father was not a woodcutter, and your mother was not a baker. But she did teach you how to make molasses cookies.”

  My gaze met Reenah’s, and she nodded.

  I clapped my hands. “Okay, well enough of that. Lochlen, no more cheating, and anyone who wants to sup with us tonight is welcome. Especially since I didn’t cook.”

  What had started out as protests suddenly turned into “yays”.

  Everyone filed into the cottage except for Gabethian. He’d just had a birthday, and even though he kept telling me he didn’t need naps anymore, I always caught him yawning in the afternoons. Part of it was his obsession with his wooden sword.

  “Mom, I don’t like knowing when other people are lying,” he said suddenly. He tapped the ground with the end of his sword, his lips turned down.

  Sighing, I fell to my knees before him. “I know. And while I don’t know how it feels, I’m going to help you figure it out, okay? And I promise to always be as honest as I can. You didn’t get this from your mother, but—”

  “You got it from your father,” a voice interrupted.

  I froze, my hands clutching my son’s shoulders. I didn’t have to turn around to know who’d spoken.

  “Mom,” Gabethian said, squirming, “there’s a man behind you.”

  I swallowed hard. “I know,” I whispered. “It’s your father.”

  Gabethian quit moving, his wide eyes finding the man behind me.

  “He’s big!” Gabethian hissed.

  I chuckled, the laugh escaping before I could hold it back. “Yes, he is.”

  Squirming free, Gabethian walked up to the man, his green gaze searching. “Do you like to play with swords?” He held up his wooden weapon.

  Standing, I turned to find myself face-to-face with Prince Cadeyrn. He didn’t look any different than the last time I’d seen him. Harder and more traveled, maybe. But mostly he looked the same.

  “Aean Brirg,” he whispered.

  Those words were enough to bring me home. I didn’t know if he’d come to stay or if he’d only come to visit his son, but it was enough. I’d heard rumors that his marriage with Catriona had ended, that her father had agreed to an annulment after she’d come forward about her affair with Gryphon. She was pregnant with her second child, and this one belonged to my brother. As for Sadeemia, King Freemont still lay in a coma, the illness something no mage had been able to figure out, the malady an ongoing study in magery. It left the country under Arien’s rule. Cadeyrn commanded its army, but he’d begun passing down those duties to Madden, his time split between Sadeemia, Henderonia, and New Hope.

  I glanced down at Gabethian. “Run inside,” I told him with a wink, “before Daegan eats all of the cookies. I’ll be along in a minute.”

  Throwing a quick glance at his father’s face, Gabethian scurried away.

  Cadeyrn’s gaze followed him before he peered down at me, his eyes searching my face. “Take me into the forest, Aean Brirg,” he said suddenly.

  I stared. “Why?”

  “Because,” he answered, “I need to find myself.”

  That was the thing about forests. You could walk for days and never find your way out. Or you would walk for hours and discover what you never thought you’d lost.

  Either way, the forest tended to keep the people that came to it.

  We’d had a great adventure, Prince Cadeyrn and me. We’d lost people we loved dearly, and we’d found friendship in grief. I’d look back at that part of my life one day, and I’d tell a room full of scholars about the country I’d saved, about the prince I’d fallen in love with, and about the dragon I rode.

  Maybe I’d even tell them about the prophecy.

  Better yet, maybe I’d write one of my own.

  My story had started with words.

  During it, I’d learned what words really meant and how life was really lived. Life wasn’t perfect. Stories never quite ended the way they were supposed to.

  But let’s be honest. If stories ended the way we thought they should, we’d never keep reading.

  Taking Cadeyrn’s hand, I tugged him into the forest, my family’s laughter chasing us into the trees.

  About the Author

  R.K. Ryals is the author of emotional and gripping young adult and new adult paranormal romance, contemporary romance, and fantasy. With a strong passion for charity and literacy, she works as a full time writer encouraging people to "share the love of reading one book at a time." An avid animal lover and self-proclaimed coffee-holic, R.K. Ryals was born in Jackson, Mississippi and makes her home in the Southern U.S. with her husband, her three daughters, a rescue dog named Oscar the Grouch, a bullmastiff named Keisel, and a coffee pot she honestly couldn't live without. Should she ever become the owner of a fire-breathing dragon (tame of course), her life would be complete. Visit her at www.authorrkryals.com or subscribe to R.K. Ryals' Newsletter

  Other works available:

  The Redemption Series

  Redemption

  Ransom

  Retribution

  Revelation

  The Acropolis Series

  The Acropolis

  The Labyrinth

  Deliverance

  The Thorne Trilogy

  Cursed

  Possessed

  Dancing with the Devil

  The Scribes of Medeisia Series

  Mark of the Mage

  Tempest

  Fist of the Furor

  City in Ruins

  The Singing River

  Retaliation Bridge (Coming soon)

  The Story of Awkward

  An Introvert’s Tale (Coming 2016)

  In the Land of Tea and Ravens

  Hawthorne & Heathcliff