Chapter 16
Hark arrived in the courtyard looking as regal as Arla had ever seen him.
He’d arrived in full dress uniform, as befitted a king.
There was an air of authority that attached itself to him, and Arla bit down on the kernel of hope that bloomed in her chest. He had it in him.
He’d had it all along. He could be a king if he wanted – he was capable of it.
‘Are we ready?’ Arla asked, twisting the pommel of her blade in her hand. Today they had a kingdom to address.
‘Let’s go, Dragonhart,’ Jack said, and as a group – as a court – they began the descent down the mountain, finally arranging themselves in the cobbled square that lay at the heart of Flambriar.
A calloused hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her backwards, away from the others, and she turned into a cloud of whiskey and leather.
Hark’s eyes were searching, curious, as if he were trying to find a secret that had been buried beneath her skin. ‘I wanted to make sure you were all right before we do this,’ he said softly.
Gods, she hadn’t realised how much she’d needed him until now. Her lips parted, her tongue thick in her mouth. ‘I just need this to go okay. I need them to trust us.’
Hark threaded his fingers with hers, and the quiet confidence he exuded was both new and old. This was the Hark she had fallen in love with – the man who had orchestrated the sabotaging of his father’s camp on the border. She trusted this man, was devoted to him.
‘It’s okay to be nervous, but it’s going to be fine,’ he said, not an ounce of hesitation or uncertainty in his tone. ‘And even if it’s not, we will have each other, and that is the only thing that matters.’
She might have cried had she not been afraid of having puffy eyes when she addressed the people. But he was right; they had each other, and even if the world and the fates and the gods were against them, she could do it as long as he was beside her.
‘Okay,’ she said softly.
Hark nodded, a charming smile spreading across his lips. ‘Okay.’
It didn’t take long for the people to gather.
Murmurs spread through the crowd, eyes settling on the court that had gathered as one, with Hark at the forefront.
Arla could see the apprehension in the way his throat bobbed and the way his fingers flexed at his side.
And then, when silence settled like a blanket over the people, Arla watched him swallow that nervousness, roll back his shoulders, and step forwards to address his kingdom.
‘I will start by offering you all an apology.’ Hark’s voice echoed through the square, every bit a commander.
A king. ‘I have been absent since my return to Flambriar, and I understand the concern.’ A ripple spread through the crowd.
Every man, woman, and child kept their eyes fixed on him, awe and wonder and … loyalty shining brightly in their eyes.
‘You have spoken to your dragonhart of worries about Kastonia and its king. I am here to tell you that your fears are unwarranted.’ A shudder ran its fingers down Arla’s spine.
Your dragonhart. As if it were the most natural statement in the world. Not a single mage had balked at Hark’s words, and he hadn’t faltered either.
The world seemed to grow before Hark, lying down at his feet as he stepped into his role. For the first time she could see it happening, could see the confidence he bled when speaking with his people.
‘I know you are worried. I know you see me and my court up in those mountains, but I would be failing you if I didn’t track what the other kingdoms are doing.
We are new, but we are strong, and nothing Elrod, or Kastonia, or any kingdom beyond can do will harm you here.
I know you might think it is easy for me to say, but I hope you will believe your dragonhart, and the one who serves the gods. ’
Arla’s breath snatched in her throat, her fingers trembling gently against the hilt of the sword. She could do this. She’d addressed people more times than she could count, back in Hadalyn – had reworked Castle Grey’s entire staff around her. This should be easy.
She couldn’t help the wave of nausea that rose in her throat.
‘Steady yourself.’ Thara’s voice was an anchor, drawing her back to herself.
To her place as the protector of these people.
She knew Thara had landed behind her before she felt the dragon’s breath at the base of her neck or heard the worried shouts of the mages.
She stepped forwards as Hark inched back, so that Arla stood before the people, her dragon at her side as they stared at her with expressions she couldn’t read.
Rolling her shoulders back she said, ‘Unlike Stappen, I will not apologise for my actions or the decisions that have led me to stand before you today. Many of you don’t trust me – perhaps you hate me?
’ Thara rumbled low in her throat. ‘But I am the last dragonhart, and the gods tasked me with protecting you, so although I did not know it before, I know it now. And you have my oath that I will lay my life before yours to keep you safe. It doesn’t answer your fears, no, but I am not the one to do that.
If you won’t believe me, believe the dragon that stands beside me.
A creature of the gods, a blessing of the fates. ’
Hark’s fingers brushed hers, a bolstering, a reassurance that he was right here with her. She hoped it would be enough. That the sceptical looks on their faces would change.
‘You do your dragonhart an injustice by failing to believe her. I hope you will extend more courtesy to me.’
Arla was just as shocked as those around her when she understood that it wasn’t just her hearing Thara’s voice in her head.
The fear was written on their faces. She thought she saw a woman faint, and there was a distinct cry from someone a little further back.
The children looked at their parents with round eyes and tilted heads, the most innocent of Flambriar’s people spared the presence of such a creature in their minds.
She could have sworn Thara sent something resembling a laugh down the bond, and when the crowd didn’t react, Arla was certain the dragon kept their bond separate from the one with which she spoke to the people.
‘Show off.’
Warmth heated Arla’s neck before Thara addressed Flambriar again.
‘You fear that which you do not know. You are content to worry yourselves over courses that have yet to come to light. Hear me, when I say this, and from now on you will listen to the one who is blessed with guarding you. Elrod of Kastonia does not have the power to harm you with the blood of those who fell before. You fear your own magic without having truly used it. There will be worse things than fear of magic, blessed ones. Remember, you are descendants of gods, and I have yet to meet a god who has ever bowed before a king.’
There was a pause. A deafening silence. Hark’s hand brushing hers.
And then … and then, one by one, the people of Flambriar dropped to their knees and bowed before Thara, and Hark, and Arla. They were willing to try to trust the court.
Arla felt Hark tense for the briefest of seconds, and before he could let a single doubt blossom in his mind, she threaded her fingers through his.
‘Together?’ he whispered.
‘Together.’
She raised their hands high, her throat tightening as the people began to cheer, and clap, and in that moment she knew they could do it. Hark might lack the confidence to rule, but she never had, and together they would do it. Together they would keep a kingdom.