Chapter 15 #2
Firelight blazed in Alora’s vision as she watched.
One by one, the ships burned.
The battle was won.
She looked to her father, and he gave her a nod of acknowledgement. “Well done. You may become a fine strategist yet.”
Warmth coiled in her chest, pride warring with disbelief. She saved Argyle and earned her father’s approval, a thing rarer than any crown.
“Come now daughter.” Laurent tugged on his reins, “Let us finish the last phase of your plan.”
They rode together down the ridge with his men.
Stormwatch’s gates opened as the last mast fell, and the night fell silent. The dragon flew steadily against the smoky sky-stained orange with flame. His demons stood eerily still on the beach, their bright red eyes watching Alora and her father ride past into the keep.
The hooves of their horses clomped on stone as they rode into the courtyard. Laurent looked upon his men standing over the dead.
“Duke Alder?” he asked a soldier.
“The admiral went down with his ship, sire.”
Alora’s heart sank with remorse. Oh, Theia…
Her heart leapt painfully in relief at the sight of Caelum. Thank the Seven, he lived. Tears burned her eyes, unbidden, as she watched him dragging Thalion forward into the courtyard.
The Calveron King was half-burnt and staggering, though fury still blazed in his eyes. His hair was singed away on one side, his cheek a ruin of charred flesh, yet his voice carried like steel when he spoke.
“You have broken the peace, Laurent. You damn yourselves with your pride.”
Laurent sat tall in the saddle, his face unreadable. “Argyle bends to no crown but its own. Where is your son?”
Thalion spat at his feet, lips curling into a snarl. He gave no answer, but the wet shine in his eyes was enough. Eldrik was dead.
“I will not beg you like a dog,” he rasped. “Give me a blade. Let me die as a king.”
Alora turned to her father, certain he would refuse. Thalion was wounded, it would not be a fair fight. But Laurent’s gaze lingered on his enemy with something close to grim respect.
He dismounted, drawing his sword, and nodded once. “So be it.”
A sword was pressed into Thalion’s hand. He staggered, barely able to raise it, yet he came on with a roar torn from his ruined throat.
Laurent did not falter. He moved with the surety of long practice, parrying once, striking twice, and on the third exchange, his blade slid clean through Thalion’s heart.
The Calveron king dropped to his knees, sword slipping from his grasp. With a final breath, he crumpled lifeless, his blood painting the stones. Alora stared at his blank eyes, shaken by the stark reality of death.
The cheers of Argyle’s men rose around her, but the sound rang hollow in her ears.
All quieted as the dragon landed on the path outside the gates, with a gust of wind so strong it rattled the windows of the keep.
Unease passed over their armed forces, some reaching for the hilt of their swords. Laurent motioned for them to stand down. Caelum joined her side as she and her father climbed the stairs to the ramparts, bringing them at eye level with the God of Shadows.
The dragon’s crimson gaze locked on her instantly.
Smoke and embers billowed through the air between them.
Her hair waved around her shoulders, her lips parted in awe as she gazed up at him.
By the Seven, he was terrifying up close.
He appeared so much larger out in the open, twice as large as the keep.
The dragon’s voice curled through her mind. It is done.
“Our deal is complete, oh great Shadow God. You have our thanks.”
The dragon made a sound that startled the soldiers, making them draw their swords. But Rune was only laughing.
He canted its head, tail coiling lazily as his claws tapped into the dirt. You forget, songbird, there was another part of our agreement.
Alora raised her chin. “I did not forget. I came to you for aid, not for a husband. I have decided to stay in Argyle where I belong.”
Oh?
On the balcony above them, the soldiers pushed forward large shapes on wheeled contraptions, covered with tarps.
What is this?
Alora smiled. Confusion shone in his glowing eyes. She figured out how he spied on her with the shadows, so this was a secret done during the brightest part of the day in a room that banished all darkness. He had no idea what she had planned.
“I gave you your freedom,” Alora continued, voice quiet but resolute. “And you granted me mine. Our bargain is fulfilled.”
The soldiers yanked off the tarps. A golden flare burst against the uncovered bronze plates, mirrors, polished to a gleam. Lady Solara stepped forward as her invisibility spell dropped, her palms raised, hair gleaming like spun flames. Sunlight rippled between her fingers, flooding the courtyard.
The dragon bared his teeth in a savage growl, his scales hissing where it touched him.
Caelum shouted a command, and all across the battlements, mirrors were unveiled.
Rune’s voice was low, a growl that shook her bones. You dare? I could smother your entire kingdom in perpetual darkness for the slight—or better yet, in ash.
“You could,” Alora admitted. “You could destroy my home and steal me away by force, but then you would once again incur the wrath of the Heavens.” She drew out a page she’d torn out of a book in the library with faded scripture.
“It took some time to uncover the ancient scriptures left behind by the divine before you. It says here, the gods may only claim a bride if she chooses him, correct?”
His eyes flamed, claws digging into stone. Smoke curled around his jaws, seeping through his nostrils. The stifling heat of his flame pressed against her.
She lifted her chin. “And I have not chosen you.”
Lady Solara cast the beam of sunlight into the sky. It split like a burst of fallen stars over the kingdom, striking the mirrors in high arches and turrets, awakened where they had been strategically placed all throughout Argyle.
The hundreds of mirrors her father had once confiscated.
Now their light reflected from glass to glass, racing across the land until the sky itself was lit. The brightest flare of all was at the highest spire of the castle.
Beacons that shone like suns.
The shadows were driven back, snuffing like smoke. Demons shrieked with pain and fury, fleeing into the night or sinking into the earth.
Rune whirled to her, furious. His body scorched, smoke rising off his scales, though he held there, his eyes boring into hers.
His growl rattled the stones. Clever little bird.
Though she heard more than fury in his voice, but in something darker. Something that made her skin prickle. He was not deterred by her actions.
He was fascinated.
The beacons held, but she knew, with a certainty that chilled her bones, that this was not the end.
Then Rune’s glowing eyes fell on her father next, and she moved closer to Laurent protectively. But the dragon retreated backward where the veil of light didn’t touch.
We all must live with our choices, songbird. I cannot spare you from this one.
Alora stared after him, her body tensing with his vague words.
Rising to his full height, the dragon beat his wings, tossing them all back as he leaped into the sky. His roar shook the skies, and he vanished behind the clouds in a gust of wind.
A brief shocked quiet fell over the keep.
Then soldiers erupted with cheers, beating their weapons against their shields. Alora’s heart shook in her chest as she exhaled a shocked breath of relief.
Her plan… truly had worked.
“Alora of Argyle.” Laurent cupped her cheek. For once, he looked upon her with true affection. “You may have the makings of a queen.”