The guards stationed at Draakstan were the only positive report received. The dragons weren't harmed, but not even someone as insane as Vesper would toy with them. She might be evil and delight in wicked deeds, but she doesn't have a death wish.
"We take the two fastest ships," I speak, my voice hoarse. "One heads east to Midori, the second south to Hydra. They have a headstart but we can – "
"I already thought of that," Ronan interrupts. Exhaustion is written across his features, his shoulders drooped. "Upon inspection, Vesper's crew inflicted damage to our warships docked in the harbor. They will need repair, but that will take days if not weeks." He scrapes his palm down his dirty face.
"Then we fly," I toss the idea out. "We take the dragons. We can catch up."
"And if they're prepared for dragons?" Thrane's question catches my ire.
"What do you mean?"
Thrane slides his tired eyes to meet mine. "They are well aware we have dragons and are banking on us acting emotionally instead of strategizing. If we fly out to meet them, I assure you they will have dragon flayers."
"What are dragon flayers?" Ronan asks.
"Iron bolts, akin to arrows, but shot out of cannons. They were used in the Great War to bring dragons down." Thrane's eyes haven't left mine for a second, even though he's answering Ronan's question. "If they take out our dragons, they are almost guaranteed a victory."
"Then we evade their attack," I spit, anger and desperation fueling every word. "We unleash fury on them before they have a chance to get a shot off."
Thrane slams his hand against the armrest of his chair, causing Ronan and I to jump. "If you attack the ships our kin are on, they will perish alongside those you despise. Worse, the Soul Eaters will find new bodies. Aurelia, Nicodemus, and Eris will die. I will not have their blood on my hands because you can't pull yourself together."
I shoot up from my seat fast enough I knock it over. "Fuck you! At least I'm trying to come up with ways to rescue them. You're just sitting there doing what you always do. Dismiss ideas you don't like – "
"It's not that I do not like your ideas," he slowly rises, squaring his shoulders to mine, "but you are not thinking rationally. You are allowing your feelings to impair your judgment and in doing so, it will cost more lives."
"I'm not sure if you fail to act because you are cowardly or because you simply don't care enough," I spit venomously across the table at Thrane.
The room stills, what little air left completely sucked out. The tension between us is so thick I could swim in it. But looking across the room at the Frost Elf and seeing his mask falter,the nonchalance he wears like armor shatter, it fills me with immediate regret. My reckless words will surely haunt me, but it is his response that nearly cleaves my heart in half.
"Not care?" Thrane says so softly I almost miss it. His voice is broken, but his eyes are filled with palpable rage.
"Emotions are high," Ronan stands, extending his hands to diffuse the situation. "I think we should all take a breath – "
"You dare accuse me of not caring?" Thrane interrupts, about to unleash hell and fury my way. "I might not have been in her life as long as you, but I was there first. I failed to protect her in my youth, but when it counted most, I killed a king to keep her safe. And if memory serves me correctly, my actions spared your life as well. So do not speak to me as if I were some stranger plucked from the street, some unrequited admirer. She is my kin. My blood." He slams his hand against his chest for emphasis. "I might not snivel about all day, lamenting about my fears and feelings, but I assure you, I care more deeply than you know." He closes the gap between us, a raging storm stewing in his face. Ronan slides around to meet us – or stop either one of us from throwing punches – but stops when Thrane holds a hand up. His eyes are still pinned on mine. "If you ever get ballsy enough to inform me of my feelings again, save yourself the embarrassment. You'll be wrong regardless."
Ronan snakes his hand up to my shoulder and squeezes. "I know you don't like Thrane's advice, but he's right. We were taken by surprise and suffered countless casualties. If we are to rescue Shaye, Nyx, and Eris, we will have to do so with clear minds and a well-thought-out plan of attack."
"She's gone," I break down, my voice nothing more than a shattered whisper. "My brothers…Eris…" My eyes swell with tears bursting to escape. "I've failed them. I've failed them all."
"Stop!" Ronan shakes me, drawing my watery gaze. "We are going to get them back. If you need to cry, cry. But then get the fuck back up and figure out a way to save them."
The thought of Shaye and Nyx being tortured by Vesper and her Soul Eaters churns my stomach. But the image vanishes when Uncle Soren bursts through the door, dried tears staining his cheeks.
Ronan's hand stills on my shoulder. "What's wrong?"
When Uncle Soren doesn't immediately speak, I know someone else died. My first thought is Finn and my bottom lip quivers at the thought he's gone.
But then my uncle stares at Ronan and says, "It's your mother."
"What about her?" My cousin asks, shakily.
"She… she fought so hard for such a long time, but…" Uncle Soren trails off, but the pain in his voice is evident.
Ronan takes a step toward his father, horror and disbelief streaking across his face. "Mother is… dead?"
Uncle Soren pulls Ronan to him, throwing his arms around his son with a strength only a grieving father would possess. "She is no longer in pain," he whispers.
For a moment, we all stand in silence as my uncle and cousin grieve their loss.
