24. Clara
24
CLARA
I love him . Clara thought as she lay in his arms. She fought a moan as she felt his corded muscles holding her firmly against his body.
It was the only logical reason she could come up with. She was practically wrapped around his body the entire time in the Ruins, and with every kiss she craved him more. When they were on the sand, she didn’t want him to stop touching her body. Instead of teasing her neck, she wanted him to kiss her as he did before they fell in the cyclops’s lake. She wanted to continue to re-enact her dreams and fall completely to his mercy. To keep feeling the happiness she only felt with Drakonis.
She had all but abandoned her original plan. She still wanted to protect Elisora’s peace, but now, she needed to protect Drakonis from the endless evils. She wanted to cast Phaedrus out of him and force him to select a new Heir.
Drakonis was noble. He would do anything for his people, but she would not let him sacrifice himself. Sacrifice led to death. It is what happened to Elisora, and Romanus might as well have been dead.
Clara was being selfish, but Drakonis had become an overwhelming addiction. If she must, she would take him to Oceanus. It was an excuse to kiss him again.
Clara clutched onto Drakonis, burying her face in his pectorals. She inhaled his scent and felt his hot thick skin against her forehead. Nero spoke of using him, but she would do anything to keep him away. Even if that meant she would contact her sister. She knew nothing of magick, but she could find a witch, warlock, or gypsy. Her youngest brother Caius knew the oddest people. And she could trust him to keep her secret. Gargoyles were strong, but she was a woman who had finally found someone she loved. But no magick could protect Drakonis from Phaedrus.
Phaedrus… He angered her the most. He was grooming Drakonis to be a replacement slave for Hades. She understood his desire for freedom, but Drakonis deserved none of it.
Her eye lashes fluttered, caressing his chest. She raised her hand and ran her finger down his sternum, and the muscles that she could see. His scales were no longer lifted, nor glowed, but they were beautiful, like raw amethysts. It was interesting. His scales had changed back from the opal color, and his hair was more black than white. Had he stopped an awakening? There were no texts on what the awakening entailed, but would trigger it again? If Clara could figure it out, she could avoid it.
Clara fought giddiness when Drakonis offered to carry her. She was strong enough on her own feet, but she wanted to savor these moments. They were going back to Ouroboros, and their roles would have to return to prince and distrustful oracle.
I need this. My nerves can’t handle anymore.
She couldn’t handle live statues, an undead monster, or another life changing revelation. Just as he drew comfort from her with Gavril’s death, she needed comfort from him after this day.
She craned her neck around his rounded shoulder. The ruins looked less grand than when they entered. The magick felt like it waned. Now that Drakonis had gone through it without harm did he feel different about it?
“Drakonis do you…”
He placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. The endearing sparkle in his eye became cold. His lips thinned and his grip on her hip and thighs was tight. She looked around the woods amongst the trees. Someone was following them. But who? His hands gripped her body, his nails digging into the oversized tunic she wore.
“What are you doing here Valen?”
Clara’s eyes widened. The first dragon she had formally met appeared from the tree line. He looked as pristine, and stoutly, as he did that day. His face still expressed the fake politeness, his back straight, and brow arched. He did not even bow before he spoke.
“Many things are happening right now Your Highness. Prince Kazimir could not help but wonder where you were, but I see you were out.”
His dark eyes met Clara’s and it made a shiver crawl up her spine. Drakonis’s squeeze kept her silent, but she narrowed her eyes in return. She would not fear Valen or Kazimir anymore. Their actions stemmed from selfishness instead of nobility. Without their titles they were nothing. Especially compared to Drakonis.
I am but a human, but they will not have what they desire. Clara thought. Drakonis was the Heir, and it satisfied her that Kazimir would never have what he desired.
“I heard nothing about a formal event today,” Drakonis answered.
“How careless of your staff.” Valen raised his brow. “Lady Oracle, I’m sure this event will entice you. It would be worth a visit considering you have played such an active part in the other festivities. But considering your state of dress…” Clara schooled the emotion on her face. Her state of dress may start rumors, but she regretted nothing.
“Watch your tongue Valen. Remember your place.”
Valen smirked. “I do not have to say anything. With you two showing up in your current states the rumors will take care of everything.”
“Unlike my brother, I do not take enjoyment out of humiliating others,” Drakonis said.
“You humiliate yourself by engaging with a woman of weak blood,” Valen said.
“Are you saying such poisoned words because I succeeded where you, and my brother, failed?”
Clara pinched him as discreetly as possible. She did not want to embarrass him but, unfortunately, Valen was right. If they remained as they were, rumors would paint them in a scandalous light, and it would reach her family. Either her godfather, or jealous brothers, would erode Ouroboros in waves.
Drakonis did not look down at her, but he did smirk. Valen’s smile disappeared. “I would advise you, and the lady, to make it back to Ouroboros as soon as possible per the emperor’s request.” Valen’s tone was clipped. “Be sure you’re decent.” He turned his back. “Oh, and I must say, Your Highness, your new look is quite different.”
The thick gray streaks were a cold reminder of Phaedrus’s plans. When the emperor figured out where they were, would he put the pieces together after seeing the physical changes in Drakonis? Would the other nobles?
“Drakonis?” Her beloved prince looked down at her. “How do you feel?”
He arched his brow. “Annoyed at the moment, princess.”
She shook her head. She did not want him to hide from her. She wanted the true emotions like after Gavril’s final rites. “My apologies. I meant; how do you feel…” She paused. There was no telling who was listening. She looked at his chest where his heart normally was, placing her hand over it. The tunic sleeve was swallowing her, and she felt like a small child. Drakonis’s face became neutral.
“Why do you ask?” He pushed.
Because the being inside of you wishes nothing more to use you, and I wish him gone. She thought.
“I was just concerned about how the ruins affected you.” Damn her not being able to lie. While it was true that she was concerned for his wellbeing, she was more concerned about how his destiny would change him.
His gaze bore into her, and his fingers moved up and down against her skin through the kymu .
“There is a new power I have never felt before. But I am not in pain.”
She remembered when he was crumbled on the floor. He was nearly mad thinking that she was walking through a river of fire. She wanted him to transform and take them to a secluded place like the wisteria or dracora blossom forest.
“And your…dragon?” she whispered.
“He is silent. But that is normal.”
“That is good.” What else could she say? It was good that Phaedrus was not draining him. It was good that he was no longer in pain.
Clara placed her ear near his heart, hearing the rapid beats. He questioned her no longer, but continued his treck, his eyes taking in their surroundings.
But was it good that her, and Gavril’s, suspicions were confirmed? Was it good that he was truly the Heir of Phaedrus? The being that is meant to live on the cusp of life and death; the one who would be used as a tool against the greatest danger their continent had ever seen. She now had her answer, but she hated the knowledge. Hated that it had to be him. How would Kazimir and the emperor react when they knew the truth?
Gavril had said that both brothers had come back different from the Ruins. Had Kazimir ever told anyone of the demons he saw? After experiencing Drakaina, the cyclops, and the golem warriors, there had to be something there that drove him to push Drakonis to his death.
Her stomach clenched. Clara needed to talk to Kazimir. She had been warned not to approach him. Even Drakonis had saved her from his clutches when she first arrived. But she felt that she had no choice. If Kazimir would see the truth and end things peacefully it was possible to ease Drakonis’s atrocious fate. She only hoped that it was a pit of fire she could return from.
The event that Valen described was anything but fun. Drakonis kept to the shadows until they reached the edge of Ouroboros. Their trek to the palace continued after stopping a passerby to get decent cloaks for the two of them, and light sandals for her feet. But the closer that they got to the palace the icier her blood became.
Crude sculptures were mounted on poles every mile they walked. The likeness was of a gargoyle, horns on the top of their head and wings bound behind their backs, all in colors of navy and silver. The symbol of a raven embroidered on each chest, the crest of her brother-in-law. Each of the sculptures burned in flames as, mostly men, danced around them, yelling profanities, and punching their fist in the air.
“Clara, stay with me.” Drakonis took her hand and led her down the side of the streets. He stood to her outer side, attempting to block her from the sight but it was hard not to miss, for in front of them was an equal horror. Chants of massacres and profanities reached her ears. Some threw rocks on the ground and stomped on them, crushing them to dust.
“You never told me of this entertainment,” she said, her voice shaking. Nero’s words filled her mind. If the dragons and gargoyles went to war, then this would be the future. Her sister would be dropped in a world of blood and death once again, and if her husband had died during it, then she would die as well.
What would Clara do if this happened? The thought of abandoning Drakonis to support her sister stung. It was unfathomable to even consider.
“This is not entertainment I condone.” He grabbed her waist walking faster. When she stumbled, he picked her up and held her at his side, his arm banded tightly around her waist. “I will get to the bottom of this Clara. I swear it.”
She could not answer. Everything was red. Her forehead burned as she could see sepia ghosts of the very men cheering, dying in agony on the ground, swords running through them, arching with blood as they were withdrawn. The same soldiers she saw at Zillah were wreaking havoc.
“Drakonis.” Another hooded figure appeared at their side. His large body was familiar as, he too, attempted to shield Clara from the scene.
“What is happening Alastair?” Drakonis’s eyes were flashing as he spoke through gritted teeth.
“Kazimir has begun inciting riots.” The normal joking tone was gone from Alastair. He changed to the man that spoke to her in the gardens. “Things are changing Drakonis. Rumors that Kazimir will become emperor has forced the nobles and lower classes to listen to his every word.”
“Did you get my message to Belisaurius?” Drakonis asked.
“He and Basil have created tunnels. Vladislav and Mikhael have already sent their families through,” Alastair answered.
“It won’t be long until Kazimir and father notice.”
“And even worse. We have visitors.”
Clara did not hear the rest of what Alastair said. The palace was coming into focus. The royal family stood, Kazimir smiling, the emperor blank faced, and the empress with a grim expression. But what caught her eye was the woman that stood in the background. A tiny woman with long gray hair and eyes as white as snow. Diamonds were encrusted on her headpiece that laid neatly against her head. Her silver robes stood out amongst the opulence and bold colors of the balcony. It was the Pythia.
“Clara? Clara!”
Drakonis shook her. She looked at him. She looked at him but said nothing. She couldn’t.
“Did you know the Pythia would show?” Alastair asked.
She shook her head. She had asked Nero to simply investigate her, but she never thought the woman would make an appearance. Was she the one that had been watching her?
White eyes that looked off in the distance now moved along the vast crowd, until landing on her. Clara gulped. The Pythia knew all. She was the one that spoke to the gods. She was another danger to Drakonis. And somehow Clara had to protect him from it.
The palace was eerie in the dark of night. Fires burned in the distance, smoke raising up towards the skies. The halls, normally bustling with activity, were now empty with nothing but floating lit candles leading the way. Her slippers were silent against the ground, but Clara swore that her breath was loud enough for the world to hear. Drakonis would be enraged if he knew what she was attempting, but now was not the time to succumb to her feelings. She had to attempt this to help his fate. It was no longer about the Heir, her sister, or the continent. It was for peace in this growing turbulent land: the land that Drakonis loved dearly.
“Lady Oracle.” Valen appeared from the shadows eyeing her from her head to her toes. His snake like smile disgusted her, but she refused to show weakness. Her eye was pressing against her forehead, but she held it back. She was vulnerable in visions, and she could not be vulnerable right now.
“I wish to see Prince Kazimir,” she said.
“My, it is quite late. Might I ask the reason for your visit as such a late hour?”
Clara said nothing. It was the worst protocol to show up at night and could be seen as scandalous.
“He has wished to see me, has he not?”
“For a long time, but it seems suspicious that you decide to see him when your Pythia finally visits.” Valen approached her, circling her body. His breath was hot against her face as his crimson scales glowed in the darkness. It was like in the stories her father read to her: the ones of lions hunting their prey.
“I have news of the Heir.” His smile disappeared. Valen had seen her and Drakonis exit the Ruins. She may be naive, but she recognized that he was searching for information about why she was there. Kazimir had to be upset when neither she nor Drakonis gave any sign, other than a possible romp.
“One moment.” Valen left her as he entered a room. She stood, goosebumps showing up on her arms. She wore the kymuruh Drakonis gifted her. Even if the fabric were to keep her warm, it was a comfort. As if he was lending her his strength.
Right now, she had to hope in her only bodyguard. He had said if she was in any danger she could call for him. Since he had not returned with any defensive magick, she had to hope that he was near.
Valen exited the room with the door open. “You may enter.”
She neither bowed nor acknowledged. She entered the room, the click of the door sounding like a cell.
The room was grander than hers. It was welcoming and dripping with wealth. A bronzed table sat in the center with cushy red chairs low to the ground. Curtains like the outside of the doors that led to other parts of the suite. Paintings in thick golden frames hung along the wall in variety of scenes, most of violence, and one of Phaedrus. A grand fireplace burned in the room casting shadows along the crimson walls.
“Clara.”
Kazimir entered from a door that had to be in his bedroom. His kimono was wide open, revealing his naked chest and cream batluns hung low on his waist. The reds, yellows, and oranges of the design matched the room perfectly and complimented his amethyst scales that gleamed brighter the closer he approached. The gold necklace that hung on his neck was broad and wide, touching the top of his pectorals. Simple but exquisite against the finery of the kimono. She fell into a curtsey, her head bowed towards the floor.
“Your highness. I apologize for the late hour.”
“Nonsense. How can I decline the invitation of a woman such as yourself, especially when I have tried to treat you so many times.”
“My apologies, your highness. My research has kept me busy.”
“As has my brother.” Clara did not answer. She was neither going to confirm or deny anything he said. Not until he gave her the information, she was desperate to seek. “You have made a lot of people angry, my lady.” Kazimir approached her, running his hands through her hair, caressing the side of her neck. “How surprised I was that I got a personal invitation from the Pythia. She was so concerned that she had not heard from you and thought you dead.”
“My apologies.” She was sorry that the Pythia had contacted him, but not sorry about the lack of reply. “I will handle her so she will not bother you in the future.”
“No need for that. It is a necessary evil for her to remain here since you obviously need some help in tracking the Heir.”
Her calves screamed from holding her curtsy. She could hear Valen’s chuckle in the distance.
“I had to discern myth from fact, my lord. Many things became clear after I went to the Ruins.”
Kazimir’s folded fan touched her chin. He had lifted her face, meeting her eyes with his brown ones. She stood straight.
“That place is full of rubble and forestry. There is nothing there but ghosts of the forgotten and skeletons of those that did not matter.”
His words were hard, but Clara could see it in his eyes. They quaked and were lit with fear. Gavril had said that Kazimir was changed.
“The ghosts were purged the day that I led Lord Gavril’s funeral,” Clara said.
“Your reach merely went a few miles.”
“My magick extended to all of Ouroboros per the lord’s request.”
Kazimir smirked. “Then you must have been disappointed at the lack of liveliness in that shithole,” Kazimir joked.
“I saw many things, your highness; rivers of fire, chantings of the ancestors, even Phaedrus himself.” Her voice was soft. She would prefer to get Kazimir alone. With Valen watching, he was less likely to open to her.
“You must have eaten some bad mushrooms,” he said, releasing her chin. He lifted his hand and tea was placed on the table. He sat cross legged, lifting finger when the tea was to his satisfaction. Clara did not move from her spot, taking in every move that he took. It was what he did not say that she had to catch on to.
“If you heard from Phaedrus, you must tell me what he said. I am anxious to see who he has selected as Heir. While I would not be surprised if it were me.”
“You are confident your highness.”
“Of course. The gods chose me all those years ago. Drakonis has been too stubborn to admit it, but father has recognized it. As have the nobles and our people. The Pythia’s presence merely adds credence. I am the epitome of what a dragon should be. I am of the highest intellect and the purest of all dragons.”
“A fated destiny then.” The words that Phaedrus had uttered to her. It was poison on her tongue. Kazimir lifted his teacup to his lips, pausing with eyes narrowed.
“Fate and destiny mean nothing.”
“All must pay a penance for their achievements. That is what Phaedrus told me,” Clara said.
“He did, did he? And how, pray tell, did this spirit tell you all of this?”
Clara did not answer. She challenged his gaze. Valen had noticed the white in Drakonis’s hair. Both had left the ruins in worse straights than what they went in with. If Kazimir was as clever as he said he was, he would be able to put the pieces together.
The man was full of himself but not daft. Seconds barely hung in the air as his jaw clicked and he placed his teacup back on the table, shaking it and almost breaking the porcelain.
“Leave us,” he commanded. “Everyone.”
“Your highness. I advise against this,” Valen said.
Clara and Kazimir’s eyes remained locked. She wanted to smile at the way Valen’s voice quaked.
“I do not repeat myself Valen. Leave us. Now. There is nothing that this little woman can do to me that I cannot overcome,” Kazimir commanded.
“Your highness…”
Kazimir lifted his hand, fire glowing around it. He shot the fireball from it, not looking at where it hit. There were no other objections. Soon the only sound in the room was the crackling flames in the hearth.
“You are either foolish or lame.”
“I am neither, your highness. I am merely repeating words that I heard while I walked through a river of fire,” Clara answered.
“The only rivers such as those are in the Underworld I am afraid. Or in Lav. Maybe I can enjoy seeing you pull off a feat there. Of course, I will be sure to invite Drakonis,” Kazimir said.
“You wish is my command your highness, but I doubt that my family in Oceanus will allow such an action.”
Kazimir’s chuckle was dark as he stood. “Your influence means nothing to me. If I chose to kill you, or use you for my own pleasure, they can do nothing about it. Now tell me who the Heir is.”
“Drakonis saw things differently than I did,” Clara continued, ignoring the threat. “Lord Gavril said that you both came back different after your visit as boys. Would you tell me what you saw?”
Kazimir laughed. “It was because of his mouth that the old man had to die you know. He had never been much use to me.”
“I am here to find peace, your highness, as did Lord Gavril.”
“What do you know about peace? You, who lived outside of this gods-forsaken land with the ones who threw us away? A woman whose sister fucks the gargoyle king and poisons her family.” Kazimir hovered in front of her, casting a shadow and meeting her nose to nose. He was terrified and falling back on the reality he created. She would need to find a way to touch him. “There has never been peace in this land and there never will.”
“Peace is what Drakonis is trying to…”
“My brother lies with every word he speaks. He is merely aligned with the gargoyles and will sell us out the moment he can,” Kazimir scoffed. “It’s disappointing how you fell for his honeyed words. But you’re a woman, how can you resist?” Kazimir turned and stretched his arms out in front of the grand fireplace. “I, however, will bring upon a golden age. No one will dare cross the dragons. Everyone will tremble in fear at our greatness. Including that pompous gargoyle king.”
“That is not how I have seen things,” Clara challenged.
“Tell me then. What do you see?”
“I have seen the dragons sully themselves to rape and pillaging. I have seen soldiers undermine and mock the very peace that you are speaking of. Prince Kazimir, if you continue with this chaos then you will bring that destiny to life.”
“No one tells me what my destiny is!” His brown eyes were wide and wild. “I am the chosen one! I will be the Crown Prince and the Heir! And all that ever look down upon me will look up once I remove their heads from their necks!”
The louder he got the calmer Clara became.
“What do you know about the Heir, your highness? For the one that Phaedrus will select will be subjected to a greater hell than anyone can imagine.”
“The Heir will gain more power than any dragon in existence.” Kazimir approached her with outstretch arms.
“Who has filled your head with such lies?” The Heir would have power but would also forfeit their freedom for their people. No matter what happened it seems, Phaedrus was right. The world as everyone knew it was going to change.
“You ask me what I saw the Ruins? I saw death, destruction, and…” Kazimir did not finish. He grasped Clara by the shoulders. “You will make me the Heir.”
“I cannot make the Heir. I only am here to find him.”
“You are a child of the Moirai, the Fates. You can make anything happen.” Kazimir said.
“I merely give the messages, guiding events as they should be.” It was why she could never lie. It was the one thing she was fighting so hard against. She could not bring the coming tragedies to this land. “Please, Prince Kazimir. Let me help you.”
“I need no help, especially from one as you.” His hand grasped her chin and her forehead burned. Whatever the prince continued to say she did not hear. Images of two young boys filled her mind. They were fighting in the Ruins, very different than what she and Drakonis had seen. Young Drakonis was good with a sword and called out commands to Young Kazimir. Then as the former ran a ghostly figure wrapped around Kazimir’s shoulders with a wide grin and one eye. A monster that looked half dead. The monster Drakonis had killed.
“He will kill you the first chance he gets.” The monster whispered.
“No, my brother would never do that.” Young Kazimir uttered. He ran in the direction as Drakonis, avoiding falling ruins and a maniacal laugh. The stone floor paled as he ran, with ghostly gray flames starting to rise from the top. Tears were falling from his eyes. “Drakonis! Brother!”
The monster appeared like a genie from a lamp. His tongue sticking out like a snake.
“You can run, youngling, but you cannot hide. There’s a reason your father send you to such a place.”
“No!”
He ran past the monster again, but was soon met with an image of adult him hanging from a noose, his body mutilated beyond repair and adult Drakonis standing near.
“DRAKONIS!” Young Kazimir yelled. The shock pushed him on his butt.
The image morphed again to the two young brothers on the roof of the temple.
“What do you supposed father wanted us to find?” Drakonis asked looking around.
“He wants to figure out who the Heir is.” young Kazimir said.
“Mother says that is just a myth.”
Young Kazimir looked dead in the eyes. Thunder and lightning began to rumble around. As silent as he could be, Kazimir pushed the young Drakonis over the temple’s edge, watching with a tear-stained face as his brother fell to the darkness.
“I cannot die,” he whispered into the night. “No one will tell me my fate.” He collapsed on his knees. “I will not!” He smashed the rock with his bare fists. “I WILL NOT!”
The image morphed again in a world consumed by flames. Kazimir wore the emperor’s crown standing at the dais. Drakonis was bound by guards struggling to get free. She could not hear the voices, but she did see Drakonis open his mouth wide. As he roared a change took hold of him as Phaedrus’s laughter filled the air. He turned into a creature she did not recognize, a massive warrior of long white hair, blue runes, and horns as grand as a gargoyle’s. His scales raised as he transformed. Kazimir ordered an attack and arrows and blades went towards Drakonis.
The air shifted again and Kazimir was held by the throat by a cloaked figure, gasping for air. The dragons around him were forcibly held down by magick. Kazimir screamed and fought but the figure only subdued him with more force.
“You thought you could escape your fate. How foolish of you.”
With an echo of a dark chuckle Clara was back. Kazimir was looking at her with desperation, shaking her. “Tell me what you saw.” She opened her mouth unable to speak. “TELL ME!” Kazimir roared.
Tears glazed her eyes and fell. Instead of words she wrapped her arms around Kazimir’s neck. His body stilled, his breath ragged.
“I’m sorry,” she said in between tears. Her heart broke for little Kazimir; frightened and alone, a terrible monster playing on his insecurities. “Please prince. Let me help you. You have not been betrayed. Drakonis will help you. I will help you. Just don’t…” The image of the cloaked figure was in her mind. His voice was oddly familiar, but she could not place it. “Please don’t go through with this plan.”
Kazimir’s hands shook as grasped her shoulders. She let go as he stepped away. Gone was the confident wild Prince, and standing was the same little boy in the ruins.
“You saw…” he gulped. The fires of the hearth cast shadows on his bent face. His brown locks, always perfect, were falling past his chin in disarray. “I am not the Heir.” He stated.
“No,” Clara whispered. “But that does not mean that your fate is sealed. You only need to stop this plan.”
“It is too late to turn back.” Kazimir stood. His face was blank, his eyes dead. His purple scaled dimmed to almost black. “I will become the most powerful dragon this country has ever seen. Once my brother awakens, I will steal his power from him.”
“It does not work like that,” Clara whispered. She tried to reach towards Kazimir, but he grabbed her wrists.
“Then I will kill Drakonis and show, even the gods, that I am not one to be defeated.” He turned. His back was hunched. Clara had never seen him look so vulnerable. “Leave me.”
“As you wish.” She turned and approached the door. She stopped before her hand touched the handle. “If I may, one more statement, your highness,” Kazimir said nothing. “Whoever that cloaked figure is, do not trust them.”
Her conscious would be clear. Even if it was small, she hoped that he would take her advice to heart before it was too late.
“Are you daft or foolish?”
Clara closed the door to her room. Nero was waiting for her by her balcony window.
“I am doing what I must,” she answered, removing her cloak and folding it over a chair.
“I told you that you have one time that I can save you. What were you thinking going into Kazimir’s chambers without a guard?” Nero’s eyes glowed a deep red. She felt neither fear nor regret. It was all emptiness.
“Why are you here?”
“You were right about the Pythia. There is something she is up to. I have my spies following her.”
A glimmer caught Clara’s eye. She looked towards her bed where a beautiful pink and red scaled dress lay. The dress was meant to fit her figure, even at the hips, with a wide skirt tied at her waist. The sleeves started midway down her forearm and flowed down to her wrist. Laying beside it was a bouquet of the finest roses, jewelry, and stylish heels. She picked up the note and red the neat script.
A dress fit for my princess. I will see you at the ball – D
“There is a ball at the end of their Dawning Festival.” Nero said.
“You read my note.”
“Of course, I did,” Nero said without shame. “Drakonis has done much to help us, and his awakening is soon.” Clara did not question how he knew everything he did. She stared at the note, repeating the words in her head. “I will allow you that night to say goodbye. With the Pythia here it has become too dangerous.”
It was finally time. Her heart broke and tears threatened to spill from her eyes again.
How can I leave him now? Clara thought. It was as if her heart was tearing to pieces.
Nero approached her window again, fading into the shadows. “My queen told me to give you this. If you ever feel that you cannot escape, and I am unable to help you, then use this.” A soft clink sounded as he placed a vial on her dresser. “And do not do foolish things again.”
Clara brought the note to her chest, placing her hands over it in a crisscross fashion. She collapsed to the floor, head in folded arms, on the bed and wept. So long she had dreamed of finding someone to love like in her fairy tales. Now she had found a handsome man that saw her for who she was. Who defended her life and gazed at her with fervor.
If she didn’t go with Nero, then Caius or Romanus would force her away from Ouroboros. There was no way for her to remain here with Drakonis. Elisora nearly took her own life when she was separated from her husband, and Clara now understood.
This ball was going to be the last time she would be with Drakonis.
Clara breathed in the kymurah. Memories of when he found her in the woods during her purification flooded her brain. Phaedrus’s words followed. If Nero took her away then she would do what she could while here, but she would never abandon Drakonis. Even if he was convinced, she would do anything for him. No matter where she was forced to be.