Chapter 30
A sharp pain stabbed Amos’ arm, like something pinching the flesh from his body. He jerked his arm away, or tried to, but it wouldn’t move. Another stab of pain, only this time on his stomach.
He tried to back away, but no part of his body budged. Something boxed him in. The cotton in his brain cleared, and a foul smell hit him hard. Amos gagged.
Jennifer.
The East Oasis.
Sariah.
Jennifer sneezing.
The cloth over his mouth.
His eyes flew open, seeing only blue skies and a blinding sun. Another stab, but this time at his leg. “Fuck,” he rasped, wincing at the raw scratch of his throat. The vulture pecking at his body jumped at the sound. How long had he been out?
It took Amos longer than it should have to realize they’d locked him in a cage that fit his body like a personalized sarcophagus.
His pants were still on, but his upper body and face were sunburnt. Not that he could see them, but it felt that way. Amos tried to swallow. He’d kill for a glass of water right now. He closed his eyes and connected with Roland.
“Tell me someone is on their way.”
“Amos?” Roland’s desperation and relief hit him hard. “Where are you?”
“I woke up outside in a cage.” He tried to move his arms again. “It fits my body like a fucking glove.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Dehydrated and sunburnt.” He tried to turn his head. “I can’t see my surroundings other than the sky.”
“Everyone is on their way. We’re a day out, maybe less.”
“I’ll let you know when I find out more.”
A sense of relief followed by an inferno of rage blasted down the mate bond. Amos rasped out a laugh. Rainer must have updated Clover on Amos’ predicament.
Some time passed, and Amos tried not to think about the thirst or the blistering sun.
“You’re awake,” a smug voice said. “I was wondering if the last dose was too much.”
Dose of what? Paul neared Amos’ cage and leaned over with a cruel smile. “If only your father could see his golden prince now.”
Golden prince? Amos would have scoffed if he had enough moisture in his mouth. “You can tell him about it yourself,” he croaked instead.
Paul’s face darkened, but his smile stayed. “Even caged like an animal, covered in your own excrement, you’re still an arrogant prick.” That explained the smell.
Amos grinned, his dry lips cracking with the effort. “My mate is going to kill you.”
Paul gestured for someone to join him. “Have you met my mate?”
Only royals had mates, and the only other people who said they had them were children playing make-believe. The man had lost it.
Jennifer stepped into view with a cruel smirk of her own. “Hello, Amos.”
“My mate will kill you too.” Amos wished Clover could have seen the fear flash across Jennifer’s face.
“Clover is too busy fighting off our men,” she said as though reporting on the weather. “Dragon Village has probably burned to ashes by now.” She tilted her head to look at Paul. “Right, darling?”
“That’s right, darling,” Paul crooned.
Amos could only see them out of his peripheral vision, but even from here, he could see through Paul’s doting facade. Why would he pretend to want Jennifer? Just to get at Amos?
“Darling?” Amos mocked, then flew into a coughing fit.
“That’s right.” Jennifer rested her head on Paul’s shoulder. “While you hid me away at the palace, Paul saw me.”
Amos tried not to laugh. He knew why Paul went after Jennifer to begin with, but why did he stay with her?
“Will you invite me to the wedding?” Amos asked. He would have smiled again but his lips throbbed.
“Load him up,” Paul snapped, cutting off Jennifer’s reply. “Take him to the stage in front of the palace.”
“Is your wedding now?” Amos taunted. “I would have dressed better if I’d known.”
Paul’s dead eyes landed on Amos. “It’s your execution.”
Amos sighed dramatically. “Now I really wish I’d have dressed better.”
Paul spat on Amos and walked away, dragging Jennifer with him.
Amos closed his eyes. The others wouldn’t get here in time.
“Roland?”
“Did you find out more?”
“Tell Clover I love her.”
“Amos, what did you find out?”
“Nothing. I can feel her fury, and she knows I like it when she’s mad. Just tell her for me.”
A long pause. “I will. Stay alive until we get there.”
“I’ll do my best.”
A group of men hoisted the cage into the air and rested it on their shoulders.
Amos had to give it to Paul; he knew how to put on a show. Rebels policed the crowd awaiting Amos’ death in their shiny new armor that was too hot for the Desert heat. Paul even built a stand for Amos’ cage so he could see the faces of everyone as he died.
Paul ascended the stairs to the podium, wearing the crown Amos’ father once wore, and raised a hand to quiet the crowd.
He gave a grand introduction that Amos couldn’t be bothered to listen to.
What did it matter? Paul was going to kill him, locked in a cage covered in his own shit.
His only solace was that Clover would paint the streets with Paul’s blood and decorate the gates with his head.
“He doesn’t even bear the mark of the dragon,” Paul bellowed, catching Amos’ attention. Paul gestured to Amos. The fennec fox familiar mark could be seen clearly, even through the iron bars.
Could they get this over with already? Amos’ knees wanted to buckle, but they didn’t have room.
At this point, the only thing unappealing about death was leaving Clover.
Two men grabbed his cage, rattling him back into existence. They fiddled with something near his neck until the top released, pulling it off like a hat. His body stayed bound, but he could now move his head.
“Amos Stratton, you are sentenced to death for treason, by order of the king,” Paul declared. He turned to Amos, and their eyes met one last time.
Amos looked away, refusing to let Paul be the last thing he saw.
He focused on a mountain in the distance and thought, at least I’ll get to see my mother.
An enormous shadow descended upon them, blocking out the unforgiving sun. One look skyward had the crowd running with ear-piercing screams. Amos watched the pandemonium unfold from his iron perch.
“Hold!” Paul screamed at his men. A few tried to valiantly serve their king, but they decided to save themselves when a massive body covered in dark red scales slammed into the ground with a deafening roar. The ground shook and dust swirled in the air, blinding anyone with their eyes open.
Sasha whipped her head toward the stage. Paul’s men ran, leaving only Amos and Paul to face her down. Paul stood tall until she blew a stream of fire at him. He jumped out of the way in time and disappeared with the others.
“Sasha?” Amos didn’t know if she remembered him or not. Ember must have sent her, though he’d never heard of a wild dragon leaving the den.
Sasha didn’t react to his words, but she studied his cage. “I know. They could have at least painted it a pretty color, huh?”
She continued to ignore him. “Thank you.” Sasha sniffed at his cage and recoiled, huffing out smoke. He chuckled. “That kind of hurt my feelings, Sash.”
Amos worried Paul would assemble archers and attack Sasha. If that happened, he’d glamour her so they couldn’t see her until she could leave, but what if an arrow got in her eye first?
“If Paul finds men stupid enough to attack you, you need to leave.”
Sasha poked at the cage stand with her nose. “Are you listening to me? You could get hurt.” She poked it harder, and he teetered a little. “Easy, girl. I don’t have a cage protecting my head anymore.”
Turning her head sideways, Sasha opened her jaw and picked up Amos’ cage with her mouth. He yelped when the world went sideways. The cage slid out of its stand, and Sasha set Amos on the ground, facing the sky.
The pressure off his back and legs felt like a slice of the heavens. He sighed and rolled his head to look at the dragon. “Thank you, again.”
She positioned her body around his and covered him with her wing to block out the sun. He still worried she’d get hurt, but he trusted her to keep them both safe.
Hours later, a crowd had formed around them—far enough away that Sasha wouldn’t burn them to a crisp, but close enough that they could watch Amos lose his dignity.
“We’re in the capital,” Roland said, and Amos had never been happier to hear from his familiar than he was then.
“I’m with Sasha in front of the palace.”
“Sasha?”
“My father’s familiar. I thought Ember sent her?” It was the only explanation as to why a wild dragon was out in the open.
“Ember didn’t send her.” Roland replied. “No one did.”
Amos opened his eyes and looked at the dragon protecting him. Heat built in his chest. “I love you, Sasha.”
The dragon ignored him. Typical.
The Hydra wove themselves into the chaos of the spectacle Paul created. The closer they got to the palace, the more difficult it was to push their way through.
Clover could feel Amos fading. He’d claimed not to be hurt when Roland asked, but she didn’t buy it. Something was depleting his energy at a rapid pace.
People turned to yell at her for pushing them, then yelled at the wrong person, not caring if they were admonishing the offender or an innocent bystander. As long as they were punishing, they felt better.
Rebels held the line between the crowd and Sasha. Clover could see her massive head and wings. She’d known the dragon long enough to know she was getting agitated.
Rainer and Ember were glamoured, flying overhead to watch for incoming attacks.
Clover elbowed past the last line of rebels separating her from Amos. The world dropped out from under her when she saw her husband enclosed in a torture device, blistered and bruised.
His head lifted to look around, and when their eyes met, he tried to smile. Clover ran across the space, forgetting about Sasha.
The dragon bristled and dropped her wing to block Clover from getting to him. She didn’t see Clover as a threat or she would have killed her, but she thought Clover might hurt him.
Clover held out her hands. “I’m not going to hurt him. I need to get him out of that cage and see what kind of help he needs.”
Sasha huffed and slowly moved her wing, never taking her eyes off Clover.
Dropping to her knees, Clover looked over the cage. “Where are the locks?”
“Hey, little viper,” Amos rasped.
His weak words worried her. How long had he been in the sun without food and water?
“I have to roll you over,” she told him. “I’ll go slow so you can turn your face.”
He mumbled something she took as a go ahead and slowly flipped him over. His handsome face pressed into the dirt, and she hated what Paul had reduced him to. She’d gut that fucker like a godsdamned pig.
“There’s no lock,” she whispered. “How the fuck is there no lock?”
Amos tried to look at her, but his head wouldn’t twist more. “Break them. You’re a royal.”
She stared at the cage. Sure, she’d just break iron with her bare hands.
“Do it,” Amos urged.
She rolled the cage back over, studied it. Searching the crowd, she spotted Sariah and waved her over. “Do we need to carry him out?” she asked Clover.
“There are no locks on it.” She flung a hand at the metal. “He told me to break it, but he’s delirious.”
“You can bend the iron easily,” Sariah said with a straight face. “I’ve seen him do it.”
“Where do I start?”
She and Sariah talked jail-break strategy, and by the end, Clover felt confident this would work if she could actually pry the bars apart.
Sariah helped her hold the cage enough to get a good grip. Her hands were going to scar after she ripped them to shreds on this iron, but if she could get him out, she would scar every inch of her body.
It wasn’t fast or easy, and the bars didn’t bend like a wet noodle. Clover’s hands were bleeding by the end, and Amos’s body had been forced through a space too small that left him riddled with bruises and cuts.
But they did it.
She didn’t have time to hold him like she wanted. He needed help.
Sariah wouldn’t be able to carry him through the crowd undetected, even glamoured. “Sasha,” Amos said, reaching out to touch her. She nudged his hand, and the punch of affection down the bond took Clover’s breath away.
“Sasha, can you take them somewhere safe?” she asked the dragon. Sasha nodded once. “Thank you.”
Amos reached for Clover with the arm not around Sariah’s shoulders. “I love you, little viper.”
She kissed the inside of his wrist, not wanting to kiss his blistered cheek. “I love you, too, Your Highness.”
Clover jogged to the side of the stage and hid out of sight, then dropped her glamour that had shielded Amos’ escape. She then glamoured herself invisible and came out of her hiding spot. People couldn’t see her, but they could see the mangled cage Amos had escaped.
The crowd was in an uproar, and just as she’d hoped, Paul climbed the steps to the stage with Jennifer in tow. His guards took up residence near the bottom of the stairs.
Clover took her time climbing the stage. She wanted Paul to really talk himself up about how much better of a king he was than Amos, he didn’t disappoint.
She stood behind him, listening to him to drone on, until she realized he might go on forever.
Clover dropped her glamour and had Paul shoved to his knees and a dagger to his throat in record time.
Amos would be proud, but he didn’t get to see it because Paul tried to kill him, and nearly succeeded.
Jennifer screamed and ran, but Clover didn’t pay her any mind. She wouldn’t get far.
Paul struggled against her hold, and she laughed as she pressed her dagger deeper into his neck. His whimper felt like a reward.
“You were taught that women are property or something you can break and throw away when you’re done,” Clover snarled, ripping Paul’s head back so she could see his eyes. “I was taught to survive men like you.”
Paul flailed, but she held tight and whistled. Rainer dropped his glamour on the Hydra, revealing a female warrior standing behind every rebel soldier. Together, they dragged their blades across the men’s necks, watching as they dropped to the ground.
When Paul’s body went limp, she released his hair, letting him fall forward onto the stage. Around her, the last of his rebels collapsed, their bodies folding into quiet, bloody heaps.
Clover straightened, lifting her gaze to the crowd, making sure her voice held strong. “The age of tyranny is over.”