Chapter 21 #2
Sebastian gripped her, smirking as he pulled her closer and wrapped her in a hug. She laughed, and so did he, and so did the two little girls.
‘One day, Dragonhart, that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.’
Over Seb’s shoulder, she could see Hark walking towards them, Jack and Jaz and Kase in tow.
Hark’s arm snaked around her waist, prying her from Seb’s grip. He laid the softest of kisses on her lips. She had always loved perfect things; this easily made the list. ‘I distinctly remember you dancing to music like this. With ribbons in your hair.’
How could she forget it?
That festival at Vorstrum had been one of the first times she’d truly let Hark see the real her. Had been one of the first times she could remove the cloak of the King’s Assassin. She had danced, and laughed, and got delightfully drunk.
‘I distinctly remember you cracking a smile back then,’ she shot back, collapsing into laughter as he spun her in his arms.
She didn’t think she’d ever seen Hark so happy. It filled her with an emotion she didn’t know how to name.
‘I still smile remembering how lovely you were that evening,’ he purred in her ear. Her cheeks heated, and though she was never one for embarrassment, she hid her face in the crook of his neck.
‘Come and dance with me, Arla,’ Jack said, a wide smile so heartbreakingly beautiful piercing his tired face.
She grinned back, swallowing the wave of worry that Jack still wasn’t better.
He still used that awful cane to walk, and Arla had heard Kase speaking with the guards about adapting his saddle so he could ride the horses for longer without being in pain.
No, she wouldn’t think of that tonight.
She twirled out of Hark’s grip, ducking when he reached for her again. ‘How could I say no to you?’ she teased.
Her cheeks ached from laughing and she thought her heart might burst. She had danced with them all – with some of the mages too, an understanding and more importantly trust blossoming between them.
Huge branches had been cut from the trees in the forest and laid on the ground to provide seating that still hummed with magic as Arla touched her hands to them.
It was where she found herself long after she’d finished dancing, Kase, strangely, at her side as they watched Flambriar’s people through the flames of the bonfire.
‘Do you think you’ll find your answers in Malarye?’ There was an edge to Kase’s voice, something that skittered between intrigue and wariness.
Arla shifted, mulling over the question in her head.
She didn’t know what she would find in Malarye.
She’d only stayed there for a night when Cyrus had taken her to visit the kingdoms on the continent four years ago.
She remembered mountains and strange temples and women who trained with arrows.
She had been impressed back then, jealous even of their prowess with a bow.
And then of course, there were the libraries.
‘I don’t think their princess would have invited me if Malarye didn’t have something I want.’
Kase turned to face her, blue eyes sparkling in the heat of the fire. ‘Be careful, Arla. Malarye will want something in return. I don’t think you should be travelling there alone.’
‘I won’t be travelling alone. I have a dragon, Kase.’
‘That you do. Do get enough rest, Dragonhart. It would be a shame if you fell off my back into the ocean.’
‘Worry about yourself,’ Arla shot back.
Thara huffed a laugh, and her amusement was followed with a lick of warmth down the bond.
‘Never.’
‘Perhaps. But there are some things Thara can’t protect you from.
Malarye has extensive underground tunnels – far more intricate than those in Kastonia.
Thara won’t be able to reach you down there if something happens.
Malarye has never given us a reason to be wary of them, but they can be vicious when provoked. ’
‘What—?’
‘My uncle was from there. I wouldn’t wish the things he did on my worst enemy.’
Arla wanted to ask her more, but storm clouds hovered in Kase’s eyes and Arla wouldn’t force her to tell a story that still caused her so much pain. The gods knew she was familiar with those feelings herself.
‘I’ll be careful,’ she said softly, glad when the shadows hounding Kase’s face relented slightly. The girl’s widening eyes were the only warning before a hand gripped Arla’s shoulder, and it took everything in her not to spin and snap the person’s slender wrist.
When she did turn, she was met with the smiling face of a woman with jet-black hair and eyes the colour of sand.
‘I didn’t have you down as stupid, Cardia,’ Kase drawled from her position beside Arla.
Cardia snatched her hand back from Arla’s shoulder in an instant.
‘I’m sorry, Dragonhart. I didn’t mean to startle you.’ Cardia’s voice was bright, like the sun. She had deep brown skin and wore a beautiful cloak Arla coveted immediately.
She liked her right away.
‘Nice to meet you, Cardia. Sebastian has told me all about you.’
The woman’s eyes turned wary for half a second before she blinked it away. ‘All good things, I hope.’
‘Of course.’ Arla smiled gently, hoping the action would breathe ease into the woman, who looked as if she feared Arla might bite her. ‘You were a friend of his sisters?’
Cardia’s eyes filled with tears and Arla wanted to curse herself for how stupid she was. This woman had lost a friend. Arla had felt the pain of going all these months without contact with Halos; she couldn’t imagine the irreparable damage it would do to her if her friend had died.
‘Lexi was a fierce friend. I hope I can help raise her children to be as strong as their mother.’
Gods, Arla’s own eyes were filling, and she was struggling to swallow. What was wrong with her?
‘It is not a weakness to have empathy for others, Dragonhart. Pity those whose hearts are made of stone.’
Arla took Cardia’s hands in hers, glad they were soft and had not known the roughness of handling a sword. ‘From what I’ve seen of those girls, you’re doing an excellent job.’
Cardia’s smile was enough to rival the stars.
‘Tonight we honour Lexi and the other souls that have gone to the eternal gates. She won’t ever be forgotten.’
A lone tear rolled down Cardia’s cheek, but she smiled through it, bending to kiss Arla’s hands. ‘Thank you, Dragonhart. It means more than you know.’
Arla watched the woman walk away towards the group of mages who tended to the children. Hark was there too, a young boy gripping his hand as he spoke with the adults around him.
‘It should be you,’ Kase muttered quietly. ‘You live and breathe this role better than any of us could have predicted.’
Arla bit down the nasty things she suddenly wanted to say. This was Hark’s kingdom. She had told him she didn’t want to be a queen.
‘Sometimes the best things aren’t the right thing.’
Kase was already answering Hark’s beckoning call, but Arla didn’t miss the word that escaped her lips.
‘Exactly.’
Arla had thought Hark was calling her over to mingle with the people, so she wasn’t prepared when he handed her a lantern made of parchment, a flame flickering inside it. The hundreds of others around her all held similar lanterns.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
Hark smiled, lacing her free hand in his. ‘Tonight is about honouring those who have fallen. A lantern for each of them. It’s an old practice, only kept alive by those who follow the old religions. The Letting of the Lanterns predates even the dragonharts, I’ve heard.’
All around them mages held lanterns, creating a sea of softly glowing flame across the square. They began to walk, a procession for the dead made of brilliant, beautiful light, the people solemn and silent and remembering.
They climbed the hills in silence, stopping only when the mages did.
Arla looked around her, at the people she would risk her life for.
She still couldn’t explain it, that tugging, gnawing sensation in her very blood that these people were her purpose, that the gods had demanded it of her.
There was still so much she couldn’t explain.
And then, as if a veil had been lifted and the souls of the dead themselves lit the sky, lanterns began to float towards the stars.
One by one they were released, a prayer for each soul, a promise that it would never happen again.
Lanterns floated higher, higher, higher, until they were so far away she could only make out the tiniest pinpricks of light.
She thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
‘It has always been known to take the breath of those who witness it. It is a sacred practice, one the gods will be sure to bless.’
Arla didn’t have the words to reply. Not when there was a sea of glowing flames above her, mingling with the stars and the very blackest of nights.
Thara was right, its beauty did take her breath away, and the tears that pricked her eyes reminded her too keenly of the lump in her throat she had been trying to swallow all evening.
Magic hung in the air, a static, alive thing to which she was growing accustomed. The dragonhart brooch burned in solidarity.
She hadn’t dare tell any of them that an ache was growing inside her, that there seemed to be a part of her missing, like a hole that magic might slot comfortably into.
She couldn’t, could she? Not after she had been so disgusted by the thought of it not so long ago.
She hadn’t believed in magic because it had never helped her, never saved her.
‘We didn’t help you either. Yet you have never not cared for us.’
Her heart stuttered in her chest. No, from the moment she had realised the dragons slumbered beneath Castle Grey, she had cared desperately for them, like a calling in her blood that answered the call in theirs. Gods’ magic.
Magic was different. And besides, it was not for her anyway.
I don’t know what order the dragons and the gods and the harts came, but I think you all had magic once…