“And if I refuse? Pull your leash?”
“Then I would go alone anyways,” Soren said. “Not preferable, given the promise I made, but to save the mortal realm from Kronos, I will.”
“Promise…” Cion muttered, looking between her and Vane, her sharp features softening a fraction. “Fine—but only because I need to find Ana. She has a lot of explaining to do.”
“That’s it?” one of the riders said from behind Cion. “We came here only to return to war.”
“If we succeed,” Vane said, “there will be no more war, not for long. And if we don’t, you all need to prepare yourselves. There’s no telling what Kronos will do should we fail to end his reign.”
Fear and resolve alike flickered across the riders’ faces, but none of them protested further.
Cion took a short breath. “Soren.”
“Yes, princess?”
Cion’s smile was tight, laced with bitterness. “You were bound to me by your life but…you were always the closest thing I had to a true sister.”
She knelt, and Soren froze as she reached out and unlatched the thin iron anklet, letting it fall to the floor.
“There was no lock?” Soren whispered.
Cion shook her head, her expression sad. “My father always said none of you would ever try. Fear was enough to keep you chained.”
Vane looked livid, and the air rippled with heat, but Soren merely looked at the princess who was on her knees before her. “In another life, perhaps we could have been sisters. But in this one, you were simply my captor.”
Cion’s eyes shone as she stood. “You should go. Take your dragons and end this. If not, we’ll be ready to die.”
The mortal princess is not a complete idiot, it seems.
Soren’s lips twitched.Are you ready to go home, Thessa?
My home is where you are, silly godling. But fine. Let us fly to our deaths.
Vane glanced at Soren and nodded. “It’s time.”
Chapter 33
Cion
Vane and Sorenbecame specks on the horizon, finally disappearing beyond the peaks. Still, Cion stood on the outcropping of rock, watching the empty air. Behind her, the others lingered, waiting for her to make the next call.
Queen.
She swallowed hard, her throat dry and thick with emotion she could not quite place. Her father had not loved her as a child, always as a tool. It was how he had seen most people. If he didn’t have a use for him, they had no place at all in his eyes. Now that he was gone, she didn’t feel sadness or even anger.
She simply felt nothing.
“Princess?”
She turned, finding a girl had stepped forward. She looked even younger than Cion herself, but she wore armor rippling with scales, a single medal on her breast denoting some honor. If Cion looked closely, she could likely tell what the girl had done to receive it, but they didn’t have time for it, nor did the achievement matter anymore.
“You may refer to me as ‘my queen’ or ‘Your Majesty,” Cion said, lifting her chin.
The girl bit her lip. “Apologies, my queen, but I must ask. Will the generals listen to us? We’ve committed treason and run with those who I presume were responsible for the late king’s death. We just want to know if we aid a rebellion or the crown?”
Cion’s mouth curved into a slow, cold smile. “Does the answer matter to you? Will it change what occurs?”
A boy stepped forward too—Jona, one of the riders who had been training Cion and Ilav. “We follow you, my queen, but there are few of us… If you do not control Aren’s army, we want to know.”
