City in Ruins Read online

  “Your destiny,” the sea sang. “Swim, little one. Rise up like the ocean. Take us with you on this journey. Call to Liqueet, goddess of the water. Rise! Give us peace!”

  Falling to the deck, I hugged my knees.

  “No,” I hissed. “No more gods!”

  The ocean grew angry, its screams growing, never easing. Boots thudded across the deck.

  “Don’t touch her,” Lochlen’s voice commanded.

  Hands clutched my arms, tight enough to make me aware they were there, loose enough to comfort.

  “I am not your consort,” Cadeyrn replied, his voice firm, “and I am not afraid of the gods.” Pulling me into his embrace, he whispered, “Breathe, Aean Brirg. Remember what I’ve told you before. If you let them consume you rather than controlling them, then you belong to them. If you control them, they belong to you. They want a queen, give them one.”

  The screaming in my head was painful, the sound making it hard to concentrate. The sea was different than the forest. She was moody, calm one moment and then angry the next.

  “Stop!” I demanded, pulling on my magic.

  I drew on Oran, the one connection to the forest I had on the ship, and he answered, his haunting howl reaching for the stars. Calling on Escreet was easier. The marks on my wrists, the ink in my skin, bound me to her. Both powers rose up within me, the magnitude silencing the ocean’s roar.

  “When you are weak, we will make you strong,” the ocean whispered.

  Sagging against Cadeyrn, I peered up at Lochlen. “I hear them,” I told him. “I hear them all.”

  “Keep listening,” Lochlen replied. “The gods aren’t fair. Their immortality makes them ruthless, but they are our gods. When Medeisia rises again, she will be magnificent.”

  Cadeyrn should have released me then, but he didn’t, his hard gaze on the dragon. “How much can one woman take before the gods drive her mad?” he asked.

  Lochlen smiled, the gesture a sad one. “You tell me. How much can one man lose before the gods turn him ruthless?” His gaze swung to mine. “Just because a war is over doesn’t mean it’s been won.”

  I blinked, my heart heavy. “You’re talking about the prophecy, aren’t you?”

  Cadeyrn stood and offered me his hand. “You know things, dragon,” the prince replied.

  My fingers slid into his palm, and he gripped them, his warm touch sending sparks of fire down my spine. My skin tingled. “What are we missing?” I asked.

  Lochlen exhaled, smoke rising in the air above him. “The end of Raemon’s reign should have brought peace to Medeisia and to those involved in the uprising.” He glanced at me, his gaze falling to my wrists. “I’ve been spending most of this journey in the sea. There’s a lot of unrest among the creatures of the ocean. I’ve been hearing things. Ask yourself why the gods marked you, Stone. Why would they feel the need to bully you into compliance?”

  Stepping away from Cadeyrn, I lifted my arms. The tattoos stared at us, a reminder of the gods’ desperation.

  “History can be altered,” Cadeyrn stated. “Somewhere along the way, the prophecy changed.”

  Lochlen’s chin rose. “And with it, the way the war plays out. Medeisia’s future depends on its players. The prophecy doesn’t matter anymore. Your future is in your hands now, and with it, the future of more than one race.”

  My eyes remained on my wrists. “The gods are more than desperate,” I whispered.

  Memories assaulted me, the pain and grief overwhelming. Where had it all gone wrong? Two princes had died; Kye and Prince Arien’s infant son. The king of Sadeemia was in a coma, and Prince Cadeyrn was married to a Henderonian princess. All of this left Medeisia without a definitive ruler. It also left Sadeemia weaker than it had before.

  I tried my best not to think it, but the thought came anyway, and it shattered my heart.

  “The wrong prince died.”

  Chapter 14

  The ache in my chest robbed me of speech, and I stumbled away from the main deck, ducking down the stairs to the middle deck below and the cabin I shared with Maeve. She was sleeping when I entered, and I was careful not to wake her.

  Fumbling through the small pack leaning against my bolted bed, my hand closed around the necklace lying on the bottom, my fingers clutching the silver chain. Keeping my fist closed, I pulled it free and held it against my heart. The Henderonian pendant had been a gift from Prince Cadeyrn, a token to remind me of Kye.

  With necklace in hand, I left the room, the sour smell inside the cabin a reminder of Maeve’s putrid stomach. What might have been different had Kye lived? Where would we be now? How safe would our people be? The dragons, for one, would have rejoiced, their future secure in the hands of a dragon rider. The gods would have been put at ease.

  Questions chased me from deck to deck, my feet carrying me to the quarterdeck.

  A circle of lantern light caught me, a hand catching me by my free wrist.

  “You’re running,” Prince Cadeyrn’s voice accused.

  “Don’t,” I warned.

  Eventually, everyone breaks.

  “You aren’t the only player in this war, Aean Brirg. You aren’t the only person who changed the course of history.”

  Twisting my arm so that the tattoo on my wrist glared up at him, I hissed, “I’m the one they blame.”

  Our eyes locked.

  “Keep asking yourself the questions I know you’re asking in your head,” he said, releasing me. “Keep answering them if you feel you have to, but know this. Pain doesn’t answer questions the same way twice. Pain will tell you a lie, and then keep on filling you with varying untruths until you’re left with agony. It only makes you hate yourself rather than giving you a solution.”

  Cadeyrn’s face was leaner in the dim light. There were lines around his eyes, as if he’d been squinting, his full lips frowning too often. A gust of wind stirred his hair, pulling the mahogany mass around his face. The prince was like the wild animals of Yorbrook, patient but fierce.

  “Do you hate yourself?” I found myself asking.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Cadeyrn answered, “Every day.” He glanced down at my closed fist, the end of the silver chain winking at him. “Quit trying so hard to be strong, Aean Brirg.”

  His words surprised me. I started, my grip tightening on the pendant, my head ducking. “Those words seem wrong coming from you.”

  “Does it?” Cadeyrn asked. He marched past me to the side of the quarterdeck, his fist clenching and unclenching. “I’ve failed you.”

  I froze, stunned. My grief, my fears, and this overwhelming sense that I’d somehow messed up the war vanished with his words.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  He looked at me. “You’ve got to work on your pain, Aean Brirg. If you don’t, it’s going to destroy you. It’s going to turn you into someone no one recognizes. Pain is a monster that turns your heart to rock and devours your soul. Let pain fester long enough and it starts to define you.” His face was all passion, anger, and uncertainty.

  I stepped toward him. “Is that what you’ve done?”

  He stood very still. “I’ve let it define who I’ve become. You, however,” he pointed at my chest, “you’ve turned it into an old friend that embraces you in the night, as if you’re afraid not hugging it close will cause you to lose warmth. Your pain is a fire you sit next to when it’s cold. I don’t know which is worse, the way I deal with pain or the way you do.” He laughed, the sound short and bitter. “You’re so young to have seen so much destruction.” He grabbed my shoulders, his gaze falling to the tattoos on my skin. “You’re so young to be threatened so often with your own death.”

  My heart pounded. I’d seen many sides of Cadeyrn’s personality, but this side was new. I was afraid to move, afraid he’d shut himself off once more.

  “War isn’t fair,” I whispered.

  What started off as anger and grief slowly ebbed out of me, chased away by my wonder, by the need to keep the prince t
alking.

  Cadeyrn closed the distance between us, his fingers coupling with my fist, forcing it open. With my pendant in his hand, he stepped behind me. Carefully moving my messy braid, he fastened it around my neck. The stars winked down at us like Feras’ pile of gemstones, diamonds pressed against black velvet.

  “It was my destiny to die,” Cadeyrn said, his breath fanning my neck as his hands fell away. “He would have made a good king, and you would have been a spectacular queen. Together, you would have brought an age of peace.”

  For the first time, I realized my guilt was nothing compared to Cadeyrn’s. It wasn’t just because of his deceased wife. He blamed himself for my pain, for the loss of people he didn’t rule. His life had always been about fighting. For everyone but himself.

  Turning, I peered up at him. “If you want me to quit trying so hard to be strong, I want you to take a moment and quit fighting.”

  His mouth tightened, his blue eyes navy in the darkness. “I can’t stop.”

  My heart was a well of sadness. “I’m not allowed to show you how.” The words fell from my lips unchecked. I didn’t have the right to say them. I’d spoken out of turn, but I couldn’t take them back, and I didn’t want to.

  Cadeyrn peered down at me, his mouth thoughtful, the fire in his eyes banked like embers flaring after they’d burned low. “Drastona Maree Consta-Mayria,” he murmured. My name sounded foreign on his tongue, fuller. Reverent. “The daughter of so many, and yet she belongs to no one.”

  A deep loneliness settled over me, the truth of his words an invisible cloak more powerful than tattoos, mage powers, and hooded scribe robes.

  The prince’s hand found my cheek, his fingers curling against my skin. The look I saw in his gaze was raw, more open than anything I’d ever seen from him.

  His face lowered, his lips hovering just above mine.

  “Don’t,” I whispered, my gaze finding his. “Because if you asked me to, no matter how wrong I know it is, I wouldn’t be able to say no.”

  It’s a mystery what brings some lives together. Destiny, karma, and the gods’ influence. None of that mattered. Minds often chose different paths from the heart, led by duty and circumstance. The heart, however, spoke for itself. It didn’t seek out what was easy. It loved what was hard.

  Cadeyrn’s finger touched my lips, his head rising. “Your dragon has it right, Aean Brirg. Despite everything dueling inside of you, despite the fact that you’ll never be able to completely give up the pain you hold, you’d make a magnificent ruler. If it was within my power, I’d make you one.”

  Surprising myself and him, I pressed my lips against his finger, kissing it. “No one ever asked me if I wanted to be a queen of anything. I don’t need power, Your Majesty. All I ask for is peace,” my gaze caught his, “and happiness for those I care about.”

  Cadeyrn sighed, his lips brushing against my forehead, lingering there a moment before he stepped back. “You know what else you’d make, Aean Brirg?” he asked, his gaze falling to my waist. “A great mother.”

  My hand flew to my stomach, his words making me yearn for a future that wasn’t mine.

  “I think I would have liked that,” I said.

  Something odd flashed in the prince’s eyes, but before I could question it, it was gone. His hands moved, his feet putting more distance between us.

  “Remember to let go of the pain,” the prince said, and was gone.

  I stumbled to the side of the deck, my hands fisted against my stomach, the pendant heavy around my neck, my gaze on the stars.

  Weirdly, loss had made me closer to the people I’d loved in life, creating this invisible connection that seemed to tie me to the Great Veil, to the beautiful beyond.

  The first tear fell, and with it, an exhaled, “Oh, Aigneis, my heart! It hurts so much.” Maybe, in hindsight, I should have spoken to my mother or Kye, but in that moment, I simply wanted to speak to the only mother I’d ever known. I would have given anything to feel Aigneis’ brush in my hair, to lay back on the bed in my small room in Forticry, the window open so that Ari could perch on the sill. I would have given anything for my broken Henderonian armoire so that I could slide beneath it and write my name next to Kye’s and next to Cadeyrn’s. Two lives, two loves, and two hearts. Such different men, but both scarred.

  A sudden thought struck me, and I felt more tears boiling inside of me, leaving hot tracks down my cheeks when they finally fell. In retrospect, the war with Raemon, although devastating and full of heavy loss, had been too easy. We’d destroyed him, and in the process saved ourselves. However, along the way, something had changed, something had been thrown off course for Medeisia. There were ways to make things right, but they weren’t moral.

  The question was: how much was I willing to risk for my people? How many choices was I willing to make to put my country back on course? How much of my heart was I willing to risk? How many people was I willing to hurt? How much was I willing to ask of the people I fought with? Worse yet, how much of my good name was I willing to lose?

  I’d been dragged into a world of intrigue and politics where nothing was pretty and nothing was right. I kept trying to walk the higher ground in a world that had no higher ground.

  I thought of Lochlen, his image stopping my tears. He was a dragon. He didn’t think the same way humans did. Dragons lived their lives to survive, to save their race from extinction. I needed to look at life the same way a dragon did.

  I needed to be a dragon.

  With that thought, I left the deck, a terrible idea forming in my head, the promise of a broken heart in my future.

  Part II

  Choices

  Chapter 15

  It was easier to think a terrible idea than it was to carry it out. I’d never done anything without a purpose behind it. This was no different, and yet it was. This choice meant doing things I couldn’t take back.

  From my nights with SeeVan, I knew we were making port on the Isle of Marr any day now to restock our supplies before making the final week’s journey to Henderonia. Once we reached Catriona’s country, I’d be out of time. I had one week to make this work. It was a good week to do it, the charts right, but I was hesitant.

  The first person I went to see was Reenah. Cadeyrn trusted her. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, his esteem for her spoke volumes.

  That morning, the rain swept in, the water pounding the ship. It was an easy rain. The waves the shower caused were choppy but not concerning, their gentle slapping against the vessel calming my nerves. I snuck along the decks, not because I was trying to hide, but because what I was about to ask made me want to hide. I’d lain awake the night before thinking about my decision, startling every time my eyes began to close.

  “Are you alright?” Maeve had whispered across from me, her voice weak. It was her feeble words that decided it for me.

  “I’m fine,” I’d answered.

  Oran, who’d been lying across my feet, had peered up at me, his discerning black eyes boring into mine. I’d feigned sleep, but true rest had never come.

  When I arrived at Reenah’s chamber, I was shaking. My fist met the wood, my knock too loud to my paranoid ears.

  The door swung open to reveal the prince’s consort, her eyes a circle of surprise when she caught sight of me.

  “Stone,” she greeted.

  Breathless, I brushed past her. She’d barely gotten the door closed when I started speaking, the words ripped from my throat. She was sitting on her small bed when I finished, her eyes wider than before.

  My shoulders sagged. “You’re judging me,” I accused.

  She sighed. “I’m not in a position to judge anyone, and truth is, you’re right.” She stared at me, at my bright eyes and flushed cheeks, and her brows furrowed. “Do you think I’d say anything? That I’d turn you in?” She stood, her blue eyes catching mine. “You’re not doing anything a person in power wouldn’t do. I just hope you realize what it would mean. If you succeed, you’ll need to be more ca
utious than ever. Your life will be at risk. Mixing with the prince has never been safe.”

  I took a hesitant step forward. “I’m not safe now. I’m already marked to die.” In my confession, I’d told her what I’d discovered about the marks on my wrists.

  She reached for her trunk, pulling a royal blue cloak free of the contents. “Use this,” she insisted. “Your best chance is in the dark a few hours before dawn. The rain today will help. Even if they spot land, we’ll be unable to dock at port until the visibility is better. You won’t have much time.”

  Grabbing the cloak, I hurried to the door. Reenah stopped me. “If you succeed, you’ll need help later. I-I’d stay with you if you like.”

  I gaped at her. “You’d do that?”

  She smiled. “You take a great risk. If you’re willing to make this choice for your people, then I know I’m not wrong to serve you. I’ve overstayed my welcome in the Sadeemian court. It’s impossible being a consort to someone who doesn’t need one. When you’re forced to flee, I’ll flee with you.”

  My gaze softened. “If I succeed.”

  Reenah smiled. “You will. The gods go with you.”

  Tremendous gratitude swept me, and I turned to tug Reenah into an embrace. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  Reenah squeezed me. “I am losing myself at court,” she murmured. “You’d be saving me.”

  With those words, she released me. I stumbled from her chamber, the blue cloak balled up in my hands, Reenah’s words ringing through my ears. “The gods go with you.”

  Did they? Would the gods agree with my choice?

  Tapping two fingers against my heart, I lifted them to my head, and then dropped them to my lips, the gesture a show of respect.

  “Silveet …” I thought, replaying my idea in my head for the courtesy of the goddess. She didn’t speak to me, her silence a gaping hole in my plan.

  It wasn’t until later that afternoon, the rain still coming down in sheets when the goddess appeared. Only it wasn’t Silveet who materialized.