CHAPTER 45
Elena
March 1431
T he next morning, I woke up beside the most gorgeous man in the world. He looked just as stunning asleep, though there was a hint of vulnerability to him. I traced a finger along his arm.
“Good morning, kitten,” he murmured, his eyes still closed.
His words startled me. Vulnerable? Not at all. This man was ready to attack, even in his sleep.
“How’d you sleep?” He finally opened his eyes.
“Good.”
“How’s your neck?”
I’d completely forgotten about my neck. I checked it and suddenly noticed how easy it was to breathe. “I think it’s fine.”
“The bruise is already showing.”
“It is? Should I cover it?” I instinctively put a hand over my neck.
“No.” He gently moved my hand away. “Leave it. Let it remind you of me whenever you see it.”
“What about the closing ceremony?”
“Your uniform will cover most of it. And for the rest, you’ll be with me. I’ll handle the explaining.” He cracked his knuckles.
“Are you gonna beat the crap out of them?” I giggled.
“Only for the first five seconds. After that, it won’t be necessary.” He grinned.
“You’re awful,” I said, playfully slapping his arm.
“From now on, I’ll be awful only to protect you.” He looked into my eyes and kissed me softly. “Ready to claim your prize?”
“What prize?” I bit my lip.
“The winning rider’s prize. Or did you have something else in mind?” He smirked.
“Maybe...”
“I’d love to explore that more, but let’s save it for later. Right now, we need to get dressed for the ceremony.” He slapped my butt.
“Ouch.”
“I can never get enough.” He grinned, helping me out of bed.
Within minutes, we were dressed and headed to the morning feast. Afterward, we flew to the arena where we were met by our team.
We walked together as the crowd roared with excitement. All the houses gathered in the center, opposite the king and queen. Next to each dragon house stood their allies, from Vlad II to King Alfonso of Aragon. Vlad clapped just as loudly as the crowd.
The feeling of a miracle lingered in the air. A human had defeated element-wielding dragon riders—a tale for the bards. But deep down, I knew it was Laszlo who made it all possible.
Several young girls hurried forward to drape flower wreaths around our necks. The Cerulean house seethed with hatred, refusing to acknowledge our presence. The Aurelian couldn’t have cared less about what was happening. She probably couldn’t wait to leave early. The Cimmerian looked around, trying to understand what was going on. Surprisingly, only the Viridians smiled—the last thing I expected from them. Suddenly, Volokh’s words echoed in my mind: “This is just the beginning.” Killian had dismissed it, but I wasn’t so sure. They were planning something. The sly satisfaction on their faces was impossible to miss.
As the trumpets blared, the king began his speech, and we clapped at the appropriate moments.
Even though Killian’s hands were clapping, his eyes were locked on me. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “ I can’t wait for this to be over so I can have you naked again.”
“You know everyone here can hear you,” I said, clapping louder to drown out his words.
“Who gives a damn? You’re mine,” he said with a wicked smile. “Once we’re married, no one will be able to meddle in our business.”
“Who said I’m going to marry you?” I asked.
His eyes widened and turned a stormy gray. “But—”
“Yes, I am yours, and we’re together. But I never said I’m going to marry you—or anyone else, for that matter.”
His eyes darkened further.
Vlad II stepped between us, interrupting the tension. “Despite my many concerns, you’ve outdone yourselves,” he said as Lord Valkorian joined the conversation.
“Soon, you’ll take over the throne you rightfully deserve, Your Majesty. And things will settle as they should,” Lord Valkorian added.
“Sire, sire!” A young squire hurried toward Vlad II.
“Couldn’t this wait?” Vlad II furrowed his brows.
“The spies have returned from Targovi?te. We have bad news, Sire.”
A lump formed in my throat.
“What is it? Speak already,” Vlad II demanded.
“Your brother, Alexander—he’s overthrown Dan II and declared himself ruler of Wallachia.”
“That’s impossible.” Vlad’s face drained of color. “What about Dan? Is he still alive?”
“He fled, Your Majesty. He survived by the skin of his teeth.”
“Now there are three pretenders to the throne,” Vlad II said, staring into the abyss.
“Do not despair, Your Majesty,” Lord Valkorian said. “You have us and the king’s support.”
But his words brought Vlad II no comfort. He knew the fight was far from over, no matter how much support the king promised.
“Esteemed guests,” the Master of Lists announced, holding a wooden box covered in red velvet and a golden Order of the Dragon insignia statue. “It is my honor to present to you the winning rider’s prize and the three Eye of the Dragon stones. Encased in the finest gold by our best royal jewelers, and by royal decree, I grant the House of the Dragon the greatest prize won at the Time Tournament.”
The Master of Lists descended the steps and stood before me. “Congratulations to the winning rider, Elena Costin.” He handed me the statue and paused, waiting for me to speak.
“The only name you need to remember from this tournament is Laszlo Taddeus. He is the reason I hold this statue today.” I raised the golden insignia high. The crowd erupted in cheers, chanting Laszlo’s name. Finally, they heard me. They heard your name, Laszlo. I hope you can see this from heaven.
Next, the Master of Lists approached Lord Valkorian. He turned the box toward us and opened it.
“Are they covered with a cloth?” Lord Valkorian asked .
“Can’t you see their splendor?” the Master of Lists replied, puzzled.
“I would if there was something there.”
The Master of Lists quickly turned the box around, his terrified eyes confirming what we feared. The Eye of the Dragon stones were missing. The crowd grew restless, and the king craned his neck to see what was causing the commotion. The Master of Lists turned the box upside down. Nothing. He called for his attendants, but they were equally clueless.
“There must’ve been a mistake,” he stammered, sweating bullets.
Out of nowhere, the bright spring sky darkened. Crows began circling above us. Gusts of dark winds engulfed the arena, casting an ominous shadow.
“Few things in this world are truly mistakes,” a voice echoed across the arena, its source unknown. “Sometimes, a human’s mistake becomes a witch’s fortune.” The voice cackled menacingly.
The king’s knights rushed to escort him and the queen from the stands. “Why the rush, my Queen? Don’t you recognize your loyal dressmaker’s voice? It couldn’t have been that long.”
“Eleonóra Thornberg?” At the sound of her name, the king and queen quickened their pace, running even faster.
“Not yet,” she shrieked. A lightning bolt struck a man right beside the king, triggering panic and a stampede in the crowd. The knights shielded the queen and king, but everyone else was left to fend for themselves. The entire arena was in chaos, except for the Viridians, who remained eerily calm.
“How can I help you, Eleonóra?” the queen asked, her voice trembling.
“It’s too late for that. I asked only for a fair trial for myself and my daughter. But instead, we were met with cold shoulders and banishment. After twenty years of toiling over your whims, it’s time you answered for your mistakes.”
“How can we appease you, Eleonóra? We’re willing to pay anything you want,” the king pleaded.
“I don’t need your treasures. I want revenge. Congratulations, dragons, the Triade of Covens is once again complete. Your little battle games are over. The real war starts now.”