I’d only caught a glimpse of this Lyrae Antares, Commander of the Dreadwatch, who lacked all humility and didn’t take shit from anybody. With her long legs tossed up on the table and that smirk on her face, I couldn’t stop staring.
Or wanting.
“Then give us a good reason for leaving them here.” Tristan hadn’t said much so far, content to lean against the back wall and listen, but Zephryn was right; they deserved an explanation, even if it was the bullshit one we’d cooked up between ourselves.
Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons, sort of logic.
Tap into their apparent need to placate queen and country.
Not something that had ever moved me, but each to their own.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she flicked up a finger. “Because Kaden Rooke is the only one who can truly keep the relics safe, since he has now bonded to them. Because the Triune is all he has left. And because we have no right to decide what’s best, not when they are, by blood and lineage…his.”
“You swore an oath, commander,” Zephryn’s voice was as hard as his face. “And as long as I’ve known you, Lyrae, you have never once broken your word.”
Normally, I expected her reply would be flippant, but today…
“We can trust him, Zeph,” Lyrae added, a pleading note in her voice I didn’t remember ever hearing before. “He lost his mother while he was prisoner, his father was killed by Gravelock. The Butcher tortured him, and he could have sold us out to save his own skin…but he didn’t.”
She paused, then added, quieter, “He didn’t because Kaden Rooke is a good male. We can trust him with the Triune, Zeph. We can trust him as an ally. The Triune is his birthright; we don’t have the authority to take them away.”
“That’s not up to me,” the dragon shifter finally said. “This will be a group decision, made by an official court vote, and that means…” He looked directly at Lyrae, and I resisted shoving her behind me, “you, at the very least, are coming back to Tempeste with Tristan and me.”
“I want to come too.” Ariel bounced up and down on the soles of her bare feet. “I’ve been cooped up in a tower for fifty fucking years and I want to see the city again. Then Iwant to go back to Blackcastle and to Southwell, after we burn Evernight to the ground, and don’t even tell me that’s not happening, because if any of you do,” she pointed her finger in all our faces, one by one, “I will absolutely make you regret saving me.”
“Ah, look,” Lyrae muttered. “My sister’s back.”
“And in perfect form,” Varian added with a grin.
“Did you know,” Varian said casually, spinning a small knife around on the table in front of him, “the Rookes have been around even longer than the Centaria bloodline? Which is your queen’s bloodline, I believe. If you really want to get into a pissing contest about royal blood, that might be a slippery slope.”
“See?” Lyrae muttered. “No authority.”
“Point taken.” Zephryn crossed his impressive arms over his chest, temper glimmering in his dark eyes as he measured us up.
“But we’re leaving today. Lyrae’s still coming back to explain the situation, and we are still voting.” His eyes drifted over to a still-silent Rooke. “But that’s not to say my vote can’t change, based on new information I might hear in the meantime.”
“This was a group decision and we’re all coming to Tempeste,” I said, pushing to my feet, hand on Lyrae’s shoulder. There was no fucking way I’d let her face the consequences alone. “And while we can still, technically, leave today…”
I scratched the back of my neck. “There’s something we have to do first.” I held out my hand before Zephryn could argue. “This won’t take long, but it is important. I might haveaccidentallymentioned to Ariel we could burn down Evernight. And she could watch.”
My gaze shifted over to Rooke. “And Imayhave mentioned you’d be delighted to help.”
Varian rolled his eyes. “Oh gods, now you’ve done it.” He turned to the big dragon shifter. “Word of advice: there will be no leaving until we get this done, so you might as well just come along and watch.”
56
LYRAE
My sister, dressed in one of Rooke’s mother’s fanciest ballgowns, stood taller than a queen as she watched her former prison burn, the wind pulling her hair into a silver banner, her eyes as cold as death.
We’d spent an hour debating who had the honor of razing Evernight to the ground—Zephryn’s dragonfire or Rooke’s new power.
Ariel cast the tiebreaking vote, and she, of course, chose both.
Only when the place was in smoking ruins did we head back to Frostveil Keep to regroup for our journey north, Ariel and Ryland carried by Varian, while, with a touch of his fingers, Rooke instantly transported both of us back.
I estimated we had at least ten minutes before Var could make the return trip and half an hour before Zeph and Tristan dove out of those clouds and alighted on the ramparts.
