Epilogue
Vorik climbed to the top of the cliff above the headquarters cave to where Jhiton gazed out across the sea, the salty breeze stirring his cloak and short black hair.
Their quasi victory hadn’t delighted the general enough to change his usually pensive expression to one of ebullience—not that Jhiton had ever in his life experienced ebullience—but he didn’t look as forbidding as he sometimes did.
Still, Vorik couldn’t resist teasing him.
“You look like the villain from one of the Vengeful Dragon legends.”
Jhiton slanted him a sidelong look.
“It’s the cloak,” Vorik explained. “Remember how the Wrathful Rider wore one? And it always flapped dramatically and villainously as he and his marauding dragon attacked stormer and gardener alike, ravishing women and pillaging food stores.”
“How does a cloak flap villainously?” The wind kicked up, lifting his hem so that it snapped.
“Precisely like that,” Vorik said.
“It’s my cloak of office for the leadership of the Sixteen Talons.”
“I know, but as the commanding officer and general, perhaps you could suggest a uniform change. A crown? Nobody finds crowns villainous, even though plenty of the Garden Kingdom monarchs were of dubious morality. And those rulers from kingdoms that pre-dated the Gods War and the fall of so many civilizations? They were always doing nefarious things, at least in the legends.”
“Speaking of kingdoms and rulers,” Jhiton said, ignoring the rest of Vorik’s chatter, “our spies say it’s all but assured that Syla Moonmark will be crowned queen. It seems you were correct about her.”
“Oh? The last I spoke with her, it sounded like a lot of other people were vying for that position. There were, in fact, assassins after her when she departed on her quest.”
“Yes, I heard about how you delayed the mission I assigned you to detour hours across the ocean to help her.” There was that sidelong look again.
“That was Agrevlari’s fault. He’d composed a ballad for Wreylith and wanted to croon it at her.”
“Dragons.” Jhiton shook his head.
“Ever whimsical. It’s good that we caught up with Syla though. We needed her moon-mark to get into the storm god’s laboratory, just as the scroll promised.” Vorik looked in the direction of Castle Island, though it lay far too many miles across the sea for even keen eyes to see.
He wished he could speak with Syla, though she wouldn’t want to see him again, not after he and Wise had taken the components.
Still, he couldn’t help that his feelings for her remained and likely would for a long time.
He was curious about how she’d gotten her people to agree to crown her. Would Jhiton know?
“I figured she could find a way to take the crown if she was determined to do so,” Vorik said, “but I don’t think she fully believed she was the right person for the job. Did our spies say how she wrested control?”
“She flew into the harbor and right up to the castle on a red dragon who apparently breathed fire to incinerate snipers, then arranged the delivery of an ancient tool of the gods capable of slaying dragons.”
Vorik laughed. “How’d she get that thing there?”
“It was delivered by dragons.”
“They delivered a weapon capable of slaying their kind?”
“Apparently.”
“Impressive.” Vorik couldn’t help but smile.
His brother’s expression was more sour. Since he’d seen that weapon in action, he would think twice about ordering another attack on the Kingdom capital.
“Wait, the Castle Island barrier is still up, isn’t it?” Vorik asked. “You said Wreylith flew through it with Syla?”
“According to multiple spies who witnessed it, yes.”
“That could only happen if… They’re not bonded now, are they?”
Jhiton looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You tell me.”
“I didn’t see anything like that happen. Not while I was there. And with Wreylith being a wild dragon to the core, I’m surprised. I couldn’t believe she was even carrying Syla about. From what I gathered, there was a promise of livestock. A lot of livestock.”
Jhiton clasped his hands behind his back and gazed out to sea again. “Originally, I underestimated the princess. I won’t do so again.”
“No, she’s got a lot of determination.”
“And power.”
Vorik remembered Syla, wreathed in magical silver moonlight as she used the weapons platform. He also remembered that she could kill a man by touching him.
“She does,” Vorik said.
“I’m fortunate that she didn’t succeed in killing me.” Jhiton gripped Vorik’s shoulder to acknowledge the role he’d played in keeping that from happening.
Glad his brother was aware of that, Vorik nodded. “You are fortunate. She thinks you’re loathsome.”
“Really,” Jhiton said dryly. “We’ve never even spoken.”
“She’s seen your villainous cloak.” Vorik smiled, making it a joke, but it saddened him that Syla felt so strongly that Jhiton should be killed.
He understood perfectly—as he’d acknowledged before, the general had been behind the invasion and assassinations of her family members—but Vorik wished things could be different.
He liked her, damn it. Maybe he even loved her.
Uncharacteristic tears moistened his eyes. He blinked them away, not wanting his brother to see him be anything but strong, physically and emotionally.
When Jhiton glanced over, Vorik looked seaward and hurried to lightly say, “Does her trying to kill you again change your mind about inviting her to the tribe? If I can convince her to do so, may she come live with us?”
“Queens don’t leave their kingdoms to live with nomadic dragon riders.”
“No, probably not.” Vorik almost wished that Syla hadn’t been able to establish leadership over her people, that she’d been forced into exile and walked into his arms. But that wouldn’t have been best for her or her kingdom, and he couldn’t truly wish that she were an exile, possibly with assassins trailing after her.
He wanted her but he also wanted the best for her, and he knew he was not that.
“I wouldn’t rescind my invitation, though, no,” Jhiton said. “You and she would have strong children who would be a boon to our people.”
“Which is more important than her trying to kill you.”
“I might get a little vexed if she kept trying.”
“She’ll probably be too busy as queen to think about assassinating you or even leaving her castle for a while.”
“I don’t know about that. She’s going to try to get the components back, I’m certain.
” Jhiton waved toward their headquarters, as if he expected Syla to skulk in during the night to do so.
“It’s possible she’ll send someone else—it would be much safer for her if she did—but…
she’s the one with a dragon at her beck and call. ”
Vorik thought about pointing out that Wreylith, even if she had bonded with Syla, wouldn’t be at anyone’s beck and call, but Jhiton patted him on the shoulder again and headed down toward the cave. Before he descended, he looked back and said, “I suspect you’ll see her again.”
Even though Syla would come as an enemy if she came, Vorik couldn’t help but hope his brother was right.
THE END