Page 35 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

The dragons banked then and we both turned our attention back to flying, but I had to swallow another pinch in my throat. This time, of gratitude.

12. Festival of Fury

~ DONAVYN ~

The king hadn’t been exaggerating when he invited me and Kgosi as guests of honor. Not only had he ordered the servants to build wreaths of flowers for the dragons, and arches in the gardens, but he’d erected tall frames to hold torches and lanterns to illuminate their scales. When I accompanied the dragons to the lawn at the hour prior to the Ball, I worried there was so much heat from the flames, the trees might be at risk of going up in bonfires before the end of the night.

Kgosi gave a long-suffering sigh, but I didn’t miss that the moment a carriage of nobles rolled up, he made a great show of swinging his head and growling so that the women nervously hurried past.

That was the king’s game: No visiting noble or merchant would enter the castle without being forced to walk past the dragons, who made a very impressive sight.

And then, when I’d gathered Bren from the modiste downstairs—at the insistence of the queen herself—and brought her up to the ballroom, we were once again ushered past the line of waiting nobles, and announced first.

There’d barely been time to think, or speak, as the day progressed, so I paused at the top of the grand staircase as we were announced, and stared down at Bren, bowing over her hand and displaying her to the glittering crowd below.

Her cheeks warmed—and once again, I felt that flutter within her that had always, until the past few days, heralded the gleam in her eye, and the hum of her body.

But tonight, once again, she caught herself, and a zing of nerves jolted through her in its wake.

I was saddened, and planned to ask Akhane how I could soothe her fear—both, over our intimacies, and her obvious worry that I would grow upset about the lack thereof.

But this wasn’t the time.

I brushed another kiss to her knuckles and smiled at her. “You look stunning, my Love.”

Her lips curled up in a soft smile, and then I led her down the stairs to the glittering crowd—which finally, tonight, included Hanson.

The moment I saw that sleek, black head at the back of the room, something deep in my guts went cold. I had to measure myself for a moment—would that rush of blazing rage return? Would that sense of barely-leashed aggression overtake me?

No.

Thank God, no.

Cold, furious focus? Yes. But I was in control. I just wanted to smack the smirk off Hanson’s face.

I yearned to see Ruin revealed for the criminal fuckwit that he was. But I had rediscovered patience.

Patience to wait for him to be truly seen and punished for the depths of what he was. Patience to trust the Creator not to waste the opportunity on petty retribution, but to unveil true justice for the worst of what this young man had become.

So, I ignored Hanson, who was pretending to ignore us, lounging near the wall with a glass of wine in his hand. But I warned Bren that I’d seen him, and we hurriedly recounted our plan.

‘I’ll wait for him to approach me, as I always have,’ she assured me.

‘Don’t fall for any ploy he might try to remove you from the ballroom or the surrounding halls.’

‘I won’t. But I’m also not going to play games with him. I’ll ask him direct questions and see how he responds.’

‘You know him better than me. Do what you believe is best. Just don’t be impatient.’

‘I won’t—and thank you.’

I frowned at the wall away from her, as I led her towards the gaggle of nobles gathering at the side of the ballroom. ‘For what?’

‘For being patient, too.’

I glanced at her for one, long breath, praying she saw the admiration and trust in my eyes. I was about to tell her, explicitly. But then the Cryer’s voice rose from the top of the staircase behind us and my blood froze in my veins.

“Ruin Galdec, an honored Furyknight of Vosgaarde!”