Obrann had declared war. And Ronan had answered.
He had written a response for Aero to send back to the king, never telling me the words, but I knew enough.Elva and I were not for sale.
The reply should have come within half a day. It never did. Ronan knew what that meant. As did Aero. And by the dreadful look on Aelora’s face when I passed her in his office just now, so did she. Her eyes were bloodshot, hair tangled as though her own fingers had waged war on it. The regard she leveled at me told me all I needed to know.
But it wasn’t her choice to make. It wasn’t mine either.
I had tried to give myself up. To surrender to the twist of fate. But Ronan refused.
So, war was coming. One way or another.
Sylen led me through the corridors, my steps padding across the charred floor. Pillared dragons lay in perfect symmetry along a balcony as we passed them, stone wings flared, their stares cast outward, guarding the sea.
Two doors waited for us as we slipped back inside the palace walls. The one on my left stood slightly ajar, silhouettes leaking through its seam, voices murmuring low and urgent within.
Sylen rapped her knuckles against the door on my right, so soft it barely stirred the mirrored surface. “Ms. Willa, I have Ms. Vale.”
Faint steps rustled beyond before a click sounded, and the door crept open where a small hand braced against its frame. Willa’s face peeked through the gap, washed in a porcelain tone, framed by a halo of white curls that tumbled in ringlets.
Her eyes bore into me, silvered and devastatingly innocent, fringed by lashes like spun ivory and brows fine as frost. Freckles spattered across her cheeks in constellations, sparkling dimly as though starlight had chosen her skin as its canvas.
She looked impossibly young and pure. And so easy to break.
Sylen bowed to us both before retreating, her footsteps vanishing down the corridor. Willa said nothing, only opened the door wider, a silent invitation.
Her chamber was smaller than mine, tucked a few stories higher, where the sea’s intimidation dulled to a distant murmur instead of a roar. Still, a chill ran down my spine, reaching over my arms until my skin pebbled.
It was frigid in here.
A flameless fireplace sat pushed into the stoned wall. No scorch marks. No lingering smoke. The walls were lined with mosaic tiles, soft beiges and tender blues stitched up toward a painted ceiling.
I wrapped my arms around myself, rubbing for friction, for heat, for anything to chase that cold. Willa only watched, blinking slow, like the world moved at her pace.
“So...” I finally spoke. “I’m Verena.”
Her head tilted one way, then the other, observing me like I was the strange thing here. The anomaly. “I know who you are.” It came out airy, a whisper spun into shape.
“Right.” Of course she did. She had summoned me. I cleared my throat, eyes drifting around the room, desperate for a clue, a reason I was here. I leaned in, playful on the surface, sharp underneath. “Is there something you think I can help you with, or was this just…curiosity?” I winked, letting the grin pull wide.
Her lips perked up, her white satin gown flowing out with each step forward. “Come.”
Slipping past me, she moved toward the sea-lit balcony where two cushioned chairs sat side by side, thrones facing the restless horizon.
I followed to where the Sapphire Sea churned far below, its rage rising to meet the fire in the sky. Salt and flame, colliding until they became one devastating exhale.
A kaleidoscope of dragons wheeled overhead, wings and firestorm, sparking the air to life. Their screams carried joy, celebration that their prince had returned.
The stone railing glided beneath my fingertips as I took in every detail of each cyclone of scales, searching for the shadow of one in onyx, knowing I would not find him.
Willa drifted barefoot across the narrow balcony, hands clasped behind her back, eyes locked on the line where sea met sky. “Thank you,” she said. “For having the dragons save me.”
A crimson dragon plunged over the cliff’s side, wings banking hard, body plummeting toward the rocks below. At the last moment it leveled out, sea spray exploding beneath its claws.
I reached across the bond. Blocked.
“That was their choice,” I said, eyes still following the dragon’s flight. “Wise as it was.”
Wind battered the cliffside, dragging strands of hair across my cheeks. I kept it down anyway. For once, I wanted to feel like someone else, someone who could afford to dress in moonspun fabric and slippers. Someone who would let her hair run untamed and not pay for it.
