Chapter 48 Vaylen
Vaylen
The wind whips around us as Zephyros soars toward Emberton.
I adjust the sling across my chest where Aurelia nestles, her tiny body warm against mine.
I glance down at her. She hasn't slept more than a few minutes since we found her.
Instead, her black gaze follows everything with absolute fascination.
"She should be sleeping," Rhealyn says, her brow furrowed as she reaches to touch Aurelia's chubby cheek. "Babies sleep most of the day, don't they?"
Aurelia responds with a delighted giggle, kicking her legs against my chest and reaching for a passing wisp of cloud. Her black eyes sparkle with an awareness no ordinary infant could possess.
"I don't think we should apply normal expectations to her," I say, smiling as tiny fingers grab hold of my thumb with surprising strength.
Rhealyn's face softens slightly, but worry still creases her forehead. "What if she never sleeps? What if she needs something we don't understand?"
"Then we'll figure it out. Together."
Aurelia coos, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if she understands exactly what lies ahead for all of us. Perhaps she does.
After the battle two days ago, we flew to Fort Ashmire, where the Sky Order survivors spent the night in shock, unable to celebrate the seeming victory. I guess we all have a lot to process before we can understand what we lost and won during the century-old conflict.
Then yesterday, with little to no rest, we spent the day in discussions with the Council of Primes, Commander Voltguard, and other key players. Contrary to my desires, they have decided to place me on the throne and name me rightful King of Embernia.
I don't like it, and I argued fiercely against it, but the alternative seems unthinkable even to me. Craven can't remain. Though the Screechclaw threat is no more, the troubles that now face the realm are still challenging and need someone who will make tackling them a priority.
"I can't think of anyone less suited to rebuilding the kingdom than Craven Stonefall," the Commander said as we all sat around the meeting table.
Everyone in the room agreed, while all I could do was exchange worried glances with Rhealyn.
"I trust you with my life, Vaylen. I wouldn't trust Craven with cleaning my dragon's shite," Dakar added, which only elicited more eager nods.
"Colorful as always." Rhealyn shook her head.
A few more beats of Zephyros's powerful wings put us over the capital, the shadows of our squadron passing over the tiny structures in our path.
The city sprawls below, unaware of how drastically their world has changed.
Among others, our companions are Commander Voltguard, Dakar, Cliffbecker, Phoebe, Nate, and Adelaide—all people we trust.
"They're watching us," Rhealyn says, nodding toward the crowds gathering in streets and courtyards.
"Looking for their goddess, I imagine," I reply.
The irony isn't lost on me. They may search the skies for Heratrix while I carry her essence pressed against my chest. Instinctively, my hand tightens around Aurelia's small form.
The thought of more people learning what she truly is sends a protective rage surging through me.
All those who know have been sworn to secrecy.
I would tear apart anyone who sought to use her or harm her.
The intensity of this feeling startles me.
I've never been a father, yet here I am, ready to kill for this child who isn't mine by blood but is somehow mine all the same.
A group of trusted Skyriders flanks us as we approach. The mission is clear: remove Craven from power with minimal disruption. A bloodless coup, they called it in our strategy session. As if such things exist.
"Still can't believe it?" Rhealyn asks, reading my thoughts as she often does now.
"That I'm supposedly royalty? No. The blood of kings flowing through the veins of an orphan from Onyx Crossing. It feels like a cruel joke."
"Ready or not," Dakar calls from my left, "time to claim your throne, Your Majesty."
Castle Stonefall looms ahead, its spires piercing the clouds. Somewhere inside, a paranoid king waits, unaware his thousand-year dynasty ends today.
Zephyros drops gracefully into the courtyard, followed by the rest of our formation. The sudden silence after flight rings in my ears as I adjust Aurelia in her sling, keeping her partially hidden beneath my cloak. The baby seems to understand the need for discretion and remains unusually still.
Royal guards snap to attention, their faces a mixture of confusion and apprehension. A captain approaches, his hand resting conspicuously on his sword hilt, eyes flicking between our faces before settling on the Commander.
"Where is Lord Flarebane?" he asks, scanning our group. "His Majesty expected him to lead the returning forces."
Commander Voltguard steps forward, her spine rigid. "I have an urgent battle report for the King. Stand aside, Captain."
The man plants himself more firmly, shoulders squaring. "With respect, Commander, I have explicit orders from King Craven himself. Only Lord Flarebane is to be admitted to the royal presence should anyone return from the front."
"I am your superior officer," Voltguard's voice cuts like steel. "And I'm ordering you to get out of my way."
The captain doesn't flinch.
The Commander looks sideways at Rhealyn, who steps forward with quiet determination. I can see the reluctance in her eyes. Using her Weaver abilities still troubles her—I wonder if that'll ever change—but we agreed that we'd do whatever necessary to reach Craven without bloodshed.
"Surely His Majesty would agree to see his betrothed," Rhealyn says, her voice silky but firm. Her eyes lock with the man's. "You have no intention of obstructing the future queen of Embernia, do you, Captain?"
His face drains of color and his gaze turns slightly unfocused. I can almost see visions of demotion and lost opportunities for advancement running through his mind.
"Of course not, my lady," he stammers, bowing deeply. "Your Skyriders will remain here."
"Please forgive my hesitation. I'll escort you personally."
We follow the captain through winding corridors of Castle Stonefall.
Something about Aurelia's warm weight against my chest feels both comforting and terrifying.
I can't protect her and fight if needed.
With reluctance, I motion to Phoebe, transferring the precious bundle to her arms. Rhealyn's eyes meet mine with understanding.
Neither of us could bear leaving Aurelia behind.
She's safer with us than anywhere else. The protective instinct runs too deep now.
The throne room doors crash open under the force of our combined purpose.
What greets us stops me in my tracks. King Craven sprawls on his throne, chin resting on one hand, a goblet of wine in the other.
Before him, five young men pose and turn like prizes at auction, their muscled torsos glistening with oil, lower bodies barely concealed by translucent silk that clings to their forms. One flexes his arms while another bends at the waist. The King's gaze lingers appreciatively.
My stomach turns. The realm teeters on the brink of transformation while its ruler indulges in flesh-parades.
Craven's head snaps up at our entrance, wine sloshing over his fingers. Recognition flashes across his face, followed by panic.
"Out! Everyone out!" he bellows, waving frantically at the young men. They scatter like startled birds, bare feet silent as they vanish through a curtained doorway behind the throne. The guards lining the walls shift uncomfortably but remain at attention.
Craven straightens, wiping wine-sticky fingers on his velvet robes. His expression transitions from shock to annoyance to an oily, ingratiating smile that never reaches his eyes.
"Commander Voltguard. High Prime Stormsong." His gaze skitters to Rhealyn, softening with disturbing intensity. "My beloved."
He leans forward, theatrical concern painting his features. "Where is Lord Flarebane? Has the battle finished already? Such a quick victory. This is most excellent news!" His voice rings false, each word calculated to mask his discomfort.
The Commander nods at me. I straighten, despite the disgust churning in my gut. This moment will mark me as usurper in history's pages. Few will know the truth of my lineage, and I have no proof to offer beyond the word of a now-absent goddess and those who heard her decree.
"Craven Stonefall," I say, my voice carrying to every corner of the throne room, "your reign ends today."
He laughs, a nervous titter that dies quickly when no one joins him. "What absurdity is this?"
"The Stonefall line seized power illegitimately a thousand years ago from the king the Goddess appointed. Your ancestors have maintained an unnecessary war to control this realm through fear."
Honor dictates I should despise this necessity, this coup we've engineered, and part of me does.
Yet, I gave my word to the Council of Primes, to the Commander, to my friends.
Moreover, when I think of Aurelia nestled in Phoebe's arms behind me, I find resolve.
For her, for all the children who will come after, Embernia must become something better.
"Guards," Craven squeaks, "seize these traitors!"
The royal guards don't move. Instead, they exchange heavy glances with each other, eyes sliding nervously between their king and us.
The math isn't hard. They're just guards with basic elemental abilities, unenhanced by dragon connections, facing the Commander of the Sky Order, the High Prime, and several battle-hardened Skyriders fresh from victory.
Their odds are abysmal, and they know it.
Craven's face contorts with panic as he realizes his protectors aren't rushing to defend him. He jabs a trembling finger at the nearest guard, a young man whose throat bobs with a deep swallow.