Chapter 42
They flew for hours with the stars their only guide.
Arla’s legs ached in a way that was unfamiliar to her, and she found herself missing the comforting strides of Vetta.
She hoped the mare was okay, and that Jack and the slaves had managed to make it to their safe place.
She hoped Hark hadn’t given up believing that she would come for him.
Thara was a majestic creature, and the awe that rolled through Arla was like nothing she had ever felt before.
The dragons had revealed themselves to her, and they had given her their aid when no one else would.
She would carry the Dragonhart namesake with pride.
If the gods had chosen her to free the people, they had chosen well.
She was King’s Assassin, and now she had a dragon.
The voice in her head jolted her to attention – it was still such a foreign thing.
‘There will be a plan for this, I hope,’ Thara challenged. ‘I have fought against those who have not been prepared over the centuries, and they have succumbed to their disorganisation. It is not the way of dragons.’
Arla had been waiting for the dragon to question her – had been eager for it, actually. Maybe she sought the reassurance that her plans were well prepared.
Perhaps she was too vain and just wished for the praise.
‘I shall be the judge of whether your mortal plans are worthy of acclaim.’
Warmth spread across Arla’s cheeks. She really would have to get used to someone listening in on her thoughts all the time.
She cleared her throat, flexing her hands around the horns on Thara’s shoulders. ‘I will enter Larkire Palace and request an audience with the king. I will give him no choice but to abdicate after what he’s done. The act of keeping slaves is forbidden amongst our people—’
‘As it should be in every world. An abhorrent practice,’ Thara growled.
‘If he doesn’t comply, he will die.’
This was her promise. Her oath.
The dragon sighed, her body expanding beneath Arla’s thighs. ‘Then you will end up dead if you decide to kill a king, Dragonhart.’
‘Not if you can lure the guards away.’ Arla swallowed.
It was a gamble. She was confident in her ability to take out the soldiers that would guard the King if she needed to, but what of everybody else inside the castle? The barracks full of soldiers? No, she needed a dragon on her side for that.
‘Lure them into the city. Create whatever distraction you must. The people will be tripping over themselves to get a glimpse of you. Make sure the guards are drawn into the chaos, too. Just long enough so that I can kill the king and get Hark out safely, if it comes to it.’
A noise of approval escaped Thara’s throat. ‘That I can do.’
It wasn’t a solid plan, but Arla hoped it wouldn’t come to that, anyway. She would make Elrod see the error of his ways and he would give up his throne in favour of Prince Reuben. She hoped it wouldn’t come to her taking the king’s life.
Silence stretched between them for long minutes before Arla plucked up the courage to ask, ‘You say you’ve fought other battles. What is it like?’
‘Nothing like what you will face here, Dragonhart. Don’t worry about that,’ the dragon said softly through the bond.
‘The wars dragons have fought have always been in the hands of the gods. The last time we fought, before we went to sleep, it was enough to bring the world to ruin. It is a blessing no human from that time is alive today to remember the destruction that followed that wretched war.’
‘What happened?’ Arla asked gently, inhaling cool air as they soared through fluffy clouds.
‘It is a story for another time, but know that not all gods have been good. And neither are those who have served them. The repercussions of a deep hunger for power led to a war that pitched dragons against one god in particular. It left us without the energy to take to the skies. That is why we have slept beneath your palace for so long, Dragonhart.’
Arla couldn’t imagine the scale of something so terrible. She couldn’t imagine what a war between such creatures would feel like or how devastating the consequences would be.
Both she and her dragon were silent for the remainder of their journey.
* * *
Larkire Palace was a bruise on the horizon as Thara carried Arla into Kastonia. They had flown all night, and now a pale dawn was settling on the kingdom. As sure of herself as Arla was, she wouldn’t risk revealing her hand just yet.
They landed in a meadow outside the city.
Thara’s huge, clawed talons sank into the lush grass and her tail beat the earth.
Arla slid down from the dragon’s back and rested a palm against her scaled neck.
All of this felt so natural, as if it was indeed in her blood that she should have an affinity for the creature before her. It shocked Arla beyond words.
‘Be careful, Dragonhart. It has long been known that those who forcefully take magic do not give it up without a fight,’ Thara’s voice warned. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, confronting Elrod, but she had trained for this her whole life.
‘I need you to take Hark somewhere safe once I get him out,’ Arla said. ‘Don’t wait for me.’
Not a question, not a request.
A low rumble sounded from Thara’s throat, setting the hairs on Arla’s neck standing tall.
It would go against Thara’s nature to abandon the one she served, but it was not negotiable.
Hark was to be kept safe. He had shown her the truth, even when she refused to see what was right in front of her, and she would repay him with her life, if she had to.
‘The dragons call for you, not the boy—’
‘I am not asking, Thara.’
The dragon sighed, a puff of smoke releasing from her nostrils. Arla wasn’t sure if it was in resignation or disappointment.
Without looking back, Arla placed one foot in front of the other and set off towards Larkire Palace.
She ignored the cleaving of her heart as she tried to push the thought away of what she would do if Hark …
if Hark … wasn’t safe. She needed him for her own selfish heart, yes, but this mission … this wasn’t about Hark.
This was about vengeance against a king who had broken the unwritten laws of humanity as well as the actual laws in the treaties that had been signed following the war. This was about holding him to account for his actions. This was about justice.
* * *
Kastonia was eerily quiet.
Not a soul walked its streets. Not even the birds sang. Nobody crossed Arla’s path as she approached the gates to the castle. Had this been a different job she might have scaled the side of the palace and slipped in unseen.
As it happened, she was sick of being invisible. She demanded to be seen – to be felt. She rolled her shoulders as she approached the guards standing inside the gates, unconsciously counting and checking her blades.
‘Tell His Majesty that Arla Reinhart is here to see him,’ she said, standing flush against the metal bars, and eyeing the solider who stood on the other side.
She observed the flicker of acknowledgement between the guards; she didn’t miss the shuffle of feet as they realised who she was.
Her reputation had served her well – too well, sometimes – and she was so very glad that she had let people believe in her penchant for stabbing first and asking questions later.
The gates creaked open, and a guard dressed in a highly decorated tunic approached her, his throat bobbing before he slid his own impenetrable mask across his face.
Too late. She’d already seen the fear behind those green eyes.
There were not enough vacant expressions and tight lips in the world to keep that from her.
Good, let them fear me.
It would be easy. And if not easy, simple.
Elrod would listen to her, and if he didn’t renounce his claim to the throne and release all slaves he still had in his possession, she would kill him.
She’d mentally prepared herself to kill him so that if the moment came she wouldn’t flinch or hesitate.
She’d also prepared herself for how fast she’d have to flee in order to outrun the repercussions of killing the King of Kastonia.
This was for the people who deserved better.
This was for her father’s friend who she hoped was safe. This was for Halos’s grandmother.
This was for the people she knew it was her responsibility to protect.
‘Weapons first,’ the guard said, his hand straying to his own blade sheathed at his waist.
‘Absolutely not,’ she hissed back. There was no way in this world she was about to walk into that palace without her weapons. Thara had told her to be prepared; she wouldn’t let her dragon down now.
‘If you don’t hand over your weapons, Miss Reinhart, you won’t be coming in.’
Quicker than blinking, her left hand shot through the bars of the gate to snatch the front of the guard’s tunic, tugging him towards her so his chest pressed hard against the gates.
Her right hand held a thin knife to his neck, the bob of his throat brushing the gleaming silver as he eyed her nervously.
‘If you don’t let me inside I will kill you and every single one of Kastonia’s soldiers before a warning bell can even be rung.’
She watched the fight leave his eyes and released him, shoving him back roughly.
‘Follow me, Miss Reinhart,’ the guard stuttered, trying to keep at least a few feet between them as they walked. Arla enjoyed the shudder that ran through his body.
She hated that she loved this castle.
From the moment she’d first stepped inside she had enjoyed the colour that blessed the halls of Larkire Palace, so unlike Castle Grey. What a shame all she could see now was blood painting its walls.