Chapter 24 Rhea #2
The tension coils tighter in the room. Tahr's gaze sharpens, boring into Commander Voltguard. His eyes carry the unmistakable weight of his Weaver skill. He's probing, searching, attempting to bend her thoughts.
But then his demeanor shifts. Surprise flickers across his features, brief but unmistakable. The Commander's face remains resolute, betraying nothing. It seems Phoebe's armed her with Strepitus. Relief bubbles up inside me, mingling with admiration for my friend's resourcefulness.
Yet, an uneasy twist curls in my gut. I left my chamber in a hurry and didn't take the draught myself. I still don't know if it's too risky and might cause Tahr to get rid of me.
"Perhaps," I hear myself saying, all eyes turning to me, "we should consider a compromise. The Commander's experience is valuable, as is Heratrix's power." I look directly at Voltguard. "The eggs exist. I've seen them, but as joyous as that news is, they're irrelevant for this campaign."
Tahr's surprise flickers across his face before settling into calculation. He hadn't expected me to speak against him, even slightly.
Darion Stonevein studies me with newfound interest. "The lady speaks sense. We plan with what we have, not what we hope for."
The scales tip away from Tahr's control of the room. His fingers drum once, twice against the table, the only tell of his frustration. I feel a small victory in that simple rhythm, afraid it may not last.
King Craven rises abruptly, cutting through the strategic debate. "Enough tedium. We'll break for refreshments." He waves his hand like he's swatting at invisible flies. "My mind requires stimulation of a different sort."
Servants materialize with trays of wine and delicacies. The tension in the room shifts but doesn't dissipate as the military leaders stand and cluster in small groups, still arguing in hushed tones.
Tahr catches my eye, his glare sharp enough to cut glass.
The message is clear: You're not controlling him properly.
I meet his gaze without flinching. Let him be angry.
Perhaps this temporary break will cool tempers and bring clearer heads.
He should know better than to think that being Heratrix's rider gives him the right to condemn soldiers to death.
Craven's fingers circle my wrist, pulling me toward a window alcove. His touch makes my skin crawl, but I force myself to follow without resistance.
"Everyone's eyes are upon us," he murmurs, preening like a peacock.
"Have you noticed? I'm rather brilliant, you know.
" His smirk widens as he surveys the room.
"When I announced our engagement, I doubled my popularity overnight.
The people love a royal wedding, especially to someone connected to the Goddess, who has already tickled their imagination with daring disappearances and rumors of murder. "
I bite back a scathing reply. His breath smells of wine though the day has barely begun.
"Soon they'll cheer my name in the streets as they should always have." He continues stroking his ego like a beloved pet. "King Craven the Magnificent, who brought back dragons and ended the war. All orchestrated by me."
My patience frays. This man would claim credit for the sunrise if he thought people would believe him. I brush against his mind, feather-light, planting a gentle suggestion.
His eyes glaze slightly. "Yes... the battle plan." He nods, expression going slack and compliant. "It's the most important thing now."
I withdraw from his thoughts, feeling dirty but justified. Every moment I spend playing this game brings us closer to ending this war. No matter the means.
I slip away from Craven's side the moment his attention shifts to a tray of food. Immediately, I search the room. Commander Voltguard stands with Dakar and Prime Emberstone near the war map, their voices low but tense. They fall silent as I approach, faces hardening into masks of distrust.
"Commander," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "Where's High Prime Stormsong?"
Voltguard's brown eyes reveal nothing. "I wouldn't expect you to care about his whereabouts, Lady Wyndward."
"I know he wouldn't miss this. Is he ill?" The words tumble out before I can stop them, betraying my concern.
Dakar snorts, crossing his muscled arms. "Ain't that sweet? Worried 'bout Vaylen while you're playin' house with Lord Fancy-Hair and His Royal Madness? Which bed you warmin' tonight, anyway?"
Heat surges through me, wind stirring around my fingers. "You don't know anything about—"
"We know enough," Prime Emberstone cuts in. "Vaylen disappeared last night. No one's seen him since the ball. I bet you and that man you brought know something about it."
My heart stops. Disappeared? The word echoes hollowly in my chest.
"His quarters are untouched," Voltguard adds, watching me closely. "And Fragor seems to know nothing about his rider."
"I need to—" I begin, but what? What can I possibly do?
I back away from their accusing stares, bumping into a chair. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong. Vaylen wouldn't just vanish. I feel it in my bones, in the spaces between heartbeats.
I slip out of the war room, my legs carrying me only far enough to find shelter behind a massive stone column in the corridor. Pressing my forehead against the cool marble, I gulp for air that suddenly feels too thin.
—Zephyros, Vaylen's missing.
My dragon's presence fills my mind immediately, concern pulsing through our connection. —What do you mean?
In an instant, he picks up the conversation from my mind. —It is not like him, Zephyros agrees. Stormsong is many things, but never irresponsible. He would not abandon his post, especially right now.
The air in my lungs seems to turn to lead. —That hollow feeling last night. Terror grips me. What if he's dead? What if something happened after we…?
Memories of our encounter flood back. His hands on me, my back against the wall, his coldness as he left.
—Calm yourself, little one, Zephyros commands. I will check with that insufferable Fragor. He has to know where his bonded rider is.
—Please, I beg, fingers pressing into stone until my knuckles turn white.
I feel Zephyros withdrawing partially, his consciousness stretching outward to seek Fragor while maintaining our connection. I wait, counting heartbeats, trying to quell the rising panic.
—I cannot find him, but I'll find out what happened to Vaylen, Zephyros promises. Go back before your absence is noticed.
With a shaky exhale, I straighten my spine and smooth my leathers. Whatever is going on with Vaylen, I will discover the truth. And if Tahr had anything to do with it, not even Heratrix herself will save him from my wrath.
I return to the war room where destiny waits to be shaped by blood and dragon fire. Though, without Vaylen here, I couldn't care less about Embernia's damn future right now.