Tempest (21 page)

“
Welcome, Phoenix,”
the trees’ voice called out, and I went back to the window.

We were rolling through the gardens just outside the mage school. The smell of roses and gardenias infiltrated our small space, and I breathed it in. Daegan sneezed.

A few closed buds unfurled as we passed them, and I smiled as they turned toward the carriage. The trees and the flowers. They weren’t mine, not really, but in my heart I belonged to them in many ways, and they belonged to me.

“Hello, trees,” I mumbled as we moved past.

The carriage stopped only long enough for the driver to call up to a castle guard. Words passed between them, and the sound of wood and metal grinding together alerted us to the gate beyond. In moments, we were in motion again.

Inside the carriage, we’d all gone quiet, the excitement brought on by the village lost in our nervousness at meeting the king. We’d made it this far, and we’d lost two comrades in the process. We’d lost our prince. I’d lost my heart. It wasn’t fear that gripped us now; it was desperation.

We had been in the desert almost two weeks before we’d cut through to the coast. It was too short a time to lose so much. It was also an eye opening experience. The Sadeemians were much closer to us than we’d ever thought. By cutting through Rolleen to the Ardus, it was possible to access the country in only a few weeks’ time depending on tempests and other occurrences. And then there were the wyvers. Because of them, Raemon had to know that the Sadeemians were camping in the desert, spying on him the same way he was spying on them. Cadeyrn was right. Our mad king was up to something, and I was getting a peculiar feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Chapter 24

How the prince beat us to the castle I have no idea, but he was outside the carriage when they opened the door, his severe face drawn, his eyes searching the courtyard. Gryphon stood beside him with both Madden and Ryon at his back.

“Has the king been informed of our arrival?” Cadeyrn asked.

Gryphon nodded. “He awaits you in the Hall of Light.”

We stepped down into a clean courtyard. The carriage had paused on a path used for horses and conveyances. The rest of the space was manicured grass and gardens. I was sorely tempted to remove my shoes and dig my toes into the soil, to feel its cool touch against the bottom of my feet. We were far enough from the beach that sand didn’t infiltrate the dirt, but still close enough to feel a cool breeze off of the sea. Seagulls flew overhead.

“Why do wolves dislike trees?” a seagull called out.

“Why?” another asked.

“Because they are full of bark,” the seagull answered.

Oran growled up at the sky, and I snickered. Lochlen grinned.

“Is this amusing?” Cadeyrn asked, his gaze sweeping the wall beyond the castle before meeting mine.

I shook my head. “No, Your Highness, it is not.”

He stared at me, and I fought hard not to smile.

“I think I hate seagulls,” Oran muttered.

My war with the grin was lost.

“Care to share the joke?” the prince asked.

I didn’t flinch beneath his gaze. “It’s the seagulls.” Madden and Ryon exchanged a look, and I blushed. “They tell bad jokes, Your Majesty.”

Cadeyrn looked up at the sky, at the birds that circled and then flew back toward the ocean.

“He worries about assassins,”
the trees said from beyond the wall.
“Tell him all is clear. The flowers see nothing within, and we see nothing here.”

“There is no danger at the moment,” I informed Cadeyrn softly. The prince’s gaze flew to mine, and I gestured at the castle wall. “The trees see nothing.”

“The trees,” Gryphon repeated.

Most of Cadeyrn’s personal guard knew I understood the wolf and the falcon, and they’d seen me yelling for the trees from the trade-cog. And yet, even after witnessing my affinity with nature, it seemed they found my communication with vegetation harder to swallow.

“She would know,” Daegan defended from behind me.

Maeve nodded. Lochlen said nothing. He was as different as I was. Cadeyrn’s people were more likely to rely on humans than a dragon.

I knew when Cadeyrn let down his guard because his shoulders relaxed. And yet, he still watched the wall and yard. He might believe me, but he depended too much on his own instinct.

“Forward,” he ordered.

We marched as a group toward the palace with the prince ahead of us, and his personal guard at our back. Oran stayed close to my legs. The people we’d traveled with across the desert had grown used to him, but the Sadeemians we passed now eyed him with fear and unease.

“It’s just so different,” Maeve mumbled in awe as we moved into the palace.

The walls were white stone and unadorned, the floors a glowing, polished marble that echoed as we walked. I’d seen marble before, but never to this extent. Marble was an expensive material, too costly to use in Medeisia even as close as we were to the mountains. The richest among our nobles utilized it sparingly in their homes. Here, it was everywhere. The entire hall was a reflecting mass of light that broke off in two directions. To the right, an elaborate white marble staircase led up to a second floor. To the left, the hall continued onward, opening up into a massive room. A picture glass window built into a vaulted ceiling threw more light over a large, golden throne. On it sat the king.

Servants in falcon-emblazoned blue surcoats stood along the walls, but I didn’t spare them a glance, my eyes focused on Sadeemia’s sovereign. King Freemont Horan Bernhart VIII was as intimidating as his name. Like Cadeyrn, he was large, his shoulders broad. He had light brown hair and a thin stylish beard. There were white streaks in his hair, but his face was remarkably unlined for a man who had ruled his country for fifty years.

The king’s eyes watched us as we walked, one hand massaging his temple.

“Son,” the king acknowledged.

Cadeyrn paused before the throne, going down on one knee on the marble. Around us, the prince’s personal guard did the same, their hands folded in front of them. Maeve, Daegan, and I followed suit. Lochlen and Oran remained standing.

“Rise,” the king ordered, his piercing gaze on Lochlen. “Tell me, Cadeyrn, who do you bring before me who dares show me such disrespect?”

Lochlen didn’t give Cadeyrn the opportunity to answer. “Lochlen the Gold, Your Majesty. A prince of dragons does not bow to a human ruler.”

Freemont’s hand fell from his forehead and moved to the arm of his throne. He clutched it. I was continually impressed by the Sadeemians’ level of self-control. The only outward sign that Freemont was disturbed by Lochlen’s announcement was the pale color of his knuckles as they wrapped around his armrest.

“A prince of dragons,” the king repeated, his eyes pausing on Oran, Daegan, Maeve, and I before moving to Cadeyrn, “a wolf, and a group of Medeisians. What have you gotten yourself involved in, son?”

Cadeyrn took a step toward the throne dais. “They are Medeisian rebels who have risen against their king. We discovered them traveling through the Ardus, en route to Sadeemia.”

The king leaned forward. “Rebels? Not refugees?”

Cadeyrn inclined his head. “Both. They come seeking an audience with the Sadeemian king.”

“And so they have one,” Freemont said, his eyes burning with curiosity. “Do you speak for them, Cadeyrn?”

Cadeyrn took another step forward. “I do. They have reason to believe their king intended to assassinate Gabriella of Greemallia and blame it on you.”

Cadeyrn was blunt and to the point. The king’s face went utterly still before he stood abruptly, his cheeks turning pink.

“Raemon seeks war?” Freemont asked. He looked at us again, his eyes narrowing “And we are to believe this on the word of discontent rebels?”

“Discontent ...” Daegan began, his voice angry, but I stopped him, a placating hand going to his arm.

“Not now,” I hissed.

Cadeyrn paid us no heed as he gestured at his guards. They bowed before ducking out of the hall.

“They had convincing evidence,” Cadeyrn stated. “It seems Raemon had a missive written to one of our men ordering the death of Gabriella.”

Freemont moved down the dais. “And you have proof of this?”

The end of the hall exploded in chaos.

“I indeed have proof,” Cadeyrn responded. He moved aside and motioned at the large, dark-haired man I’d seen on the wharf in Rolleen. Blayne Dragern. He hung now between two of Cadeyrn’s men, his eyes full of hatred. “I also have the man the missive was written to,” the prince added.

Cadeyrn pulled a piece of parchment from his tunic, unfolding it carefully. Right away, I recognized it. It was the one I’d written, the one I’d watched Raemon seal close with his broken dragon pendant. Cadeyrn must have found it amongst his uncle’s belongings. It was the first time I’d seen it since penning it inside the king’s study in Aireesi, and I stared at it.

“The missive.” Cadeyrn’s voice was hard as he held the document out toward his father, but King Freemont ignored it, his gaze locked on the prisoner.

“Blayne,” the king murmured.

The man’s head lifted, his angular face and high cheekbones eerie compared to his slanted eyes.

“I am no traitor, Your Majesty,” Blayne argued, his tone defiant.

Freemont took the parchment Cadeyrn offered him, staring down at it a moment before his gaze moved back up to his brother-in-law.

“This is not my handwriting. You know my handwriting, Blayne,” Freemont replied.

Blayne met the king’s gaze evenly. “I was coming to warn you myself before I was stopped by your son.”

Freemont’s gaze shifted to Cadeyrn.

The prince’s face remained hard and unrelenting. “My man Gryphon was sent ahead from Rolleen to intercept the Greemallian ship, which even now approaches our shores. He didn’t have to go far. The ship was already beginning to anchor off of Rolleen.”

The king glanced down at the parchment again. “Rolleen?”

“It seems Blayne had sent his own man days ago to intercept the ship and have its destination changed from Majesta to Rolleen,” Cadeyrn responded. “He had every intention of carrying out what was on that missive.”

The king’s gaze moved once more to Blayne. “You? My wife’s brother, a traitor?”

Blayne’s eyes narrowed. “Be careful, Your Majesty. It is not uncommon for second sons to rise up against their fathers. You see who he travels with. Who really wishes you ill? Me or him?”

The king looked down at the parchment yet again, his hand returning to his temple.

“The king of Medeisia cannot write in our tongue. I doubt he can even speak it. Who wrote this?” Freemont demanded.

Blayne laughed, the sound wicked. “Again, I warn you, Your Majesty. Who really wishes you ill will? By diverting the ship, I was merely protecting you. Your son travels not only with a group of Medeisians, but with the same person who wrote the letter you hold now.”

Murmurs rose from the servants lining the hall as men I’d not noticed before stepped from behind the golden throne, their hands on their swords. The king’s guard.

I stood tall even as Blayne’s eyes moved to my figure. “The girl there. She wrote the missive while disguised as a boy named Sax.”

There was a s
woosh
as swords were drawn, and I stiffened as Daegan and Maeve flanked me, their eyes on the king’s guard. None of us had weapons, but the guards did. The light streaming from the window above our heads danced along their blades.

“And you would know this how?” Cadeyrn asked, his voice deadly.

Blayne laughed again. “Because, dear nephew, I have spies of my own.”

There was something else in Blayne’s tone, something neither I nor Cadeyrn missed. It was arrogance and victory. He thought he’d won, thought he’d one-upped the prince, and he was enjoying it.

Hands suddenly gripped me as Maeve and Daegan were pushed aside, swords at their throats. Oran growled as I was shoved to my knees on the floor, but I shushed him with my eyes. Lochlen did nothing, his reptilian gaze taking in the room.

“Let her up,” Cadeyrn ordered.

The king stepped off of the dais, his hard gaze on his son. “Have you turned against me?”

Cadeyrn stared at him. “If you believe that, Father, then you don’t know me at all.” His hand went to his sword before his eyes swept the men holding us captive. “You of all people have seen my power. I could take down every man in this room before they’d have a chance to nick me with their blades. I am quick with a sword, Father. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t need to go to the trouble of bringing you a bunch of ragged refugees. I have enough men loyal to me, I could do it on my own.”

It was then I noticed Gryphon, Madden, and Ryon with their own swords pulled, their eyes on Cadeyrn, and I knew they awaited his order.

Freemont stiffened. “Then explain all of this,” he commanded.