Chapter 45
Her heart felt like it might slip between her ribs and disappear into the mountains beneath her. Not that it would have been a problem before – it would have found its way to Hark.
Now she thought it might just shrivel up and die.
She tried not to think too much of it as Thara carried her out of Flambriar Valley. If she thought too hard about Hark and what had happened between them, she might fall victim to the gaping cavern in her chest.
Her heart hadn’t escaped. He’d fucking broken it.
So instead she clung to the thought of Halos – of her being alive and well.
She hoped she hadn’t sent Arla that wooden horse because she was in trouble.
Arla’s fingers drifted over to the brooch on her nightgown – a stupid flimsy thing; she should have taken the time to get dressed – and something in her chest eased slightly at the wave of warmth that licked her fingers.
It felt too similar to Thara’s magic in the bond, confirming to her everything Jaz had said.
‘Did you know the symbol would grant me magic?’ Arla called out to her dragon.
Flambriar was disappearing beneath them now, and soon it would be lost to the mountains.
Thara had confirmed she’d known that the dragonharts had once had magic and that Arla herself could access the dragon’s.
She hadn’t said anything about the dragonhart symbol, though.
Thara growled softly, the vibration through her body trembling Arla’s bones.
‘I did. But you know as well as I the things the fates forbid me to tell you of.’
‘Would they kill you? If you told me?’ The pain they’d inflicted on Thara before…
Thara was quiet for a moment, though the bond churned restlessly between them.
‘In more ways than you could conjure in that wild mind of yours.’
Wild.
Hark had called her that. Her king, too, had said the same. She’d liked it before – had enjoyed knowing people looked at her like she was untameable. Like she was too loud and noticeable. Too much for a girl.
Now she wondered if wild was just another word for failure.
‘Do you think of Elin as wild?’ Thara hummed.
‘No,’ Arla replied down the bond, still marvelling at the way it was possible to communicate with her dragon without having to speak a single word out loud, no matter how many times she did it. ‘I think of Elin as alive.’
‘She won’t be for long if what is unfolding beneath us has any say, Dragonhart.’
It was the wariness in Thara’s tone that had Arla peering over the side of the dragon to the mountain range below before she could untangle the words Thara had uttered.
Her stomach dropped, a rushing, heady panic consuming her as Arla watched a grey mare, almost camouflaged in the rough terrain of the mountain, carry a young girl at a breakneck gallop across ground that was surely going to kill them both.
Elin had come after her.
‘Land. Now!’ Arla called out, already cursing everyone in Claret Hall for their fucking inability to keep hold of the child. Elin would die if Vetta slipped on this ground.
As if she’d heard the words, Arla’s horse whinnied, the sound carrying on the wind to where Thara was descending. There was determination on Elin’s face. Even from such a distance, Arla could see the steadfastness in the girl’s features. It would be a battle to get her to turn back.
When they were close enough to the ground that she didn’t risk shattering her ankles, Arla launched herself from Thara’s back, landing on the loose earth of the mountain.
They’d made it to flat ground, at least, almost half a mile of it before the mountains began to descend and danger of death really was likely.
Arla stormed towards where Elin had stopped the horse, Vetta’s coat slick with sweat, her sides heaving with the strain of the gallop. Arla’s heart swelled for the little horse; she knew she would have kept galloping all night had Elin commanded it.
Speaking of, how had the girl managed to bond with the mare so well as to ride her?
‘Do you know how much trouble you’re in?’ Arla snapped as she reached the pair of them.
Elin squared her shoulders, a mask of defiance sliding over the young girl’s face. ‘You forgot your bow. You can’t save your friend without it.’
Sure enough, Arla’s bow was fastened to Elin’s back, the smooth wood gleaming in the morning sun.
‘That’s beside the point,’ Arla said, though she couldn’t summon the anger in her voice that had been there moments before. ‘You could have died out here. One slipped hoof from Vetta and you’re both down. No one would have found you, Elin. Gods, does anyone even know you left?’
Elin raised a brow, and for a fleeting moment, Arla was looking at a reflection of herself. She’d been just as careless of authority at that age, too.
‘No, they don’t know I’m out here. But you know Vetta won’t slip. She’s your horse, Arla. I don’t think even a dragon could stop her.’
Thara huffed, a sound that was too similar to laughter for Arla’s liking. It still softened her voice even further, the worry at seeing the girl out here alone dissipating for every second she stood in the girl’s confidence.
‘Well, you’ve delivered my bow. Now you need to go back.’
Challenge lit Elin’s eyes, those soft brown eyes dazzled for a second.
Oh gods, they really didn’t have time for this argument.
‘I want to help. Please let me come with you.’
For a heartbeat she considered it. But that beat passed, and Arla knew there was no way she could put this child in danger, no matter how much Elin wanted to prove herself. Arla made sure to soften her voice as she spoke to the girl, placing her hands on top of where Elin’s rested around the reins.
‘If you want to help me, you will make sure my kingdom doesn’t fall apart whilst I’m gone.’
It was the first time she’d admitted it – that Flambriar belonged to her. But truly, who was there to deny it? Those people were given magic by the very gods she was blessed by. There was no one better to lead Flambriar than Arla Dragonhart, no matter what Hark had to say about it.
Elin looked too small against the might of the mountains, her tiny face half hidden beneath the fur hood of the cloak she wore.
‘I know you didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. I don’t want everyone to go to war, either.’
Elin knew too much. Hadn’t been kept shielded from the fears of war like Arla had wished for her.
‘Neither were you.’
Arla snorted. ‘And look how I turned out.’
‘Elin, you must go back. Keep them all in line, until I’m home.’
Her voice was too tiny. ‘Will you come back?’
There was a sadness in the girl’s eyes. A tale of loss and grief, a hope that she wouldn’t have to lose someone else she cared about. Arla squeezed her hands a little tighter.
‘I promise you I will come home. I’ll bring Halos and her children, too – Vivi will like that, won’t she?’
Elin didn’t look convinced. ‘You’ll get hurt,’ she whispered.
Arla winked. ‘No one hurts me.’
Elin’s shoulders sagged and Arla knew then she’d won this fight. The child couldn’t come with her, and she knew it.
‘Go back. I promise I’ll be all right.’
The fight left those beautiful brown eyes, the strength Arla knew the girl carried tucked away safely.
‘Okay.’
Vetta nudged Arla gently, a promise, perhaps, that she would carry her rider as safely as she had always carried Arla. She raised a hand and patted the horse gently.
‘Go, quick. Before the others realise you’ve gone.’
A small smile was all Elin offered her before the child kicked the mare into a gallop. Arla had to swallow around the lump in her throat as she watched the navy-blue cloak ride away from her. Gods, she needed to get a grip.
‘Do not regret having a heart. Pity those who do not.’
Arla was silent as she remounted her dragon and they launched into the sky.
She was airborne for less than two minutes before a blood-curdling scream tore through the mountains.
If Arla’s heart had ever stuttered before, it was nothing compared to the way it tripped and tumbled in her chest. Every nerve ending came alive, a sharpness narrowing her senses.
Elin.
Without a second of communication between them, Thara was banking left and twisting in the sky, Arla’s legs gripping the sides of the dragon’s body like it was second nature now.
Elin was in trouble.
Thara’s wings beat beneath her with a ferocity as Arla’s eyes scanned the landscape, searching for that gods-damned blue cloak.
All she could see were fucking mountains.
‘Can you see anything?’
A pulse of concern through the bond before Thara replied, ‘Not yet. But I can feel it.’
A thick oily thing settled in the pit of Arla’s belly. If Thara was able to feel something, there was no doubt there was magic involved – dark magic, if Arla had to guess.
Thara soared higher, the mountain range stretching out below them like spilled ink. All Arla could think of was that damned blue cloak. Gods, if anything had happened to Elin, she’d never forgive herself for turning the child back alone—
‘There!’ Thara growled, an ancient, dark sound filled with a thousand promises that set the hairs on Arla’s arms upright.
But sure enough, her dragon was right. There, on a flat piece of land between two peaks, a child clung to the neck of a grey horse as over two dozen black-uniformed soldiers surrounded her.
Bile rose in Arla’s throat before she settled her mind back into that calm, unfeeling space. They would all die, then. Every one of them for daring to stop a child. She wouldn’t let them touch a hair on Elin’s head.
‘Take us lower,’ she said to her dragon, already nocking an arrow into the bow Elin had brought her. This would all be Arla’s fault if the girl was hurt.
Thara obeyed, silently drifting lower through the clouds.
They hadn’t been spotted yet, Elrod’s warriors not clever enough to look up and see their death descending.
Arla ground her teeth as the soldiers inched closer to Elin, her unease visible even from this height.
Vetta stood like an ox, perhaps aware that her owner was on the way to rescue them.
It was a blessing, really. Arla imagined if Elin tried to escape now, they’d cut her head from her shoulders.
‘Closer,’ Arla instructed through the bond, her fingers itching to let the arrow fly. ‘I want to be sure I kill them.’
Thara growled. ‘I will burn them all to ash!’
‘No,’ Arla objected, the panic thick in her throat. ‘You might hurt Elin.’
She had no idea how accurate dragon fire was, but judging by the pulses of fury flowing through the bond, she doubted her dragon would keep a check on her flames.
It was as a soldier stepped forwards to grab the reins out of Elin’s hands that Arla finally let that arrow fly.
It planted firmly between his eyes.
And then hell erupted.
There was shouting and cursing and two dozen swords drawn as Arla picked another two soldiers off with arrows. Elin watched, her eyes wide with panic, as soldiers swarmed her.
Arla couldn’t protect her from up here. She’d have to be on the ground, swinging a blade she didn’t have.
‘When has that ever stopped you?’
She threw herself from her dragon’s back, landing harshly and ignoring the bite of pain that came with it. Every set of Kastonian eyes turned to face her.
There was a half-second where she thought they might turn and run.
She should have known better.
Instead, Elrod’s soldiers squared their shoulders and spread to contain Arla within the circle they currently held Elin in. Arla let them. Didn’t try and fight as they forced her closer to Elin.
That was good. She wanted the girl close to her.
‘Are we going to stand here all day, or do you need a moment to consider how quickly you’d like me to hand your carcasses back to your king?’ she drawled, delighting in the way each of them bristled at her voice.
It purchased her a reaction, at least. One lone soldier stepped forwards, his hair shaved close to his skull, eyes like wicked needles piercing her soul.
‘He’ll pay us handsomely for you, assassin,’ he sneered.
Arla slid one of her knives from the bandolier at her waist, twirling it between her fingers with a look of disinterest. She was close to Elin now, could reach out and touch the girl’s leg where she sat stock-still atop Vetta. The mare huffed quietly.
‘Surprisingly, I’m not for sale,’ Arla said, ‘so unless you wish to deliver your own heads to His Majesty’s feet, I suggest you let the girl go and you turn back to Kastonia.’
The soldiers face remained cold. ‘Or what, bitch?’
Arla levelled him with her own cool stare.
‘Was I not clear? You will lose your heads.’
As if in confirmation, Thara growled from where she prowled at the edge of the circle of soldiers.
‘Don’t attack them,’ Arla said through the bond. ‘Let me get Elin clear first.’
Just one slip of a bolt from the solid crossbows the soldiers carried, and Elin would die. Arla couldn’t sanction that.
The soldier who had stepped forwards laughed then – a hacking, awful sound. Arla watched Elin tense beside her.
‘You’re in no position to make demands.’
She ignored the voice in her head that was telling her he was right.
‘Never.’
But she couldn’t hope to fight her way out of this. Not with so many soldiers and no sword. Not with a child to protect.
But maybe she could create a gap long enough for Elin to escape. Long enough for Vetta to carry her home to Flambriar and warn the court.
So Arla didn’t hesitate when she threw the knife.