Lib Novel Page 31
“So far it has,” Meridian mutters.
The half-hearted reassurance isn’t enough. I grip Meridian’s shoulder, leaning down so I can speak in his ear. “Tell me your people aren’t going to do anything while Serylla is near this spot.”
“I’m sure they won’t,” he says. “They’ll notice what’s going on… they’ll wait.” He swallows hard. “But if the King of Vohrain steps up there, they might see it as our chance to—you know.”
He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. If Rahzien mounts the platform and stands over the spot where the rebels planted their explosives, they will blow him up without hesitation, along with anyone nearby.
A carriage halts beside the platform. Vohrainian guards swarm around it, brandishing pikes, holding back the crowd.
Hinarax nudges my arm. “More on the rooftops,” he says out of the side of his mouth.
Sure enough, helmeted figures draped in smoky blue cloaks perch among the chimneys and gables of the buildings around the square, guns in their hands. They’re covering the area, watching for threats, ready to eliminate them.
The carriage door opens.
Rahzien exits first, his broad figure unfolding from the darkness within the carriage. He looks different than when I met him on the clifftop. He has trimmed his hair and beard very short, which fascinates me. It’s as if the change of his hairstyle represents a change in how he wants to be perceived.
He wears a shining breastplate, and a lightweight cloak billows around him like sinister smoke. The effect is admittedly impressive.
Rahzien turns back to the carriage and snaps his fingers imperiously.
From the gloom within, Serylla emerges.
She’s thinner and paler than when I last saw her, clad in a black garment so sheer that every curve of her body is visible. Her hair is elaborately braided, and her face has been painted—her eyes, lips and cheeks tinted to exaggerate their color and shape. As if her natural beauty isn’t breathtaking enough.
My throat swells tight as rage burns through my brain. Heat boils inside me—the fire of my dragon side, demanding to be unleashed. My mind races through scenario after scenario, but there are too many unknown factors here, too many dangers, and I can’t concoct a plan that would ensure Serylla’s survival. Either the rebels will set off the explosion and she’ll die on that platform, or she’ll die in the air, pelted with gunfire as I try to carry her away.
I must wait, and trust that the rebels will postpone their plan. I hope Rahzien only intends to humiliate Serylla, not kill her. If he threatens her life, I will transform instantly and do my best to protect her, no matter what happens to me.
Hinarax stands with his shoulder pressed against mine, letting me know with his body that he is here. He is with me. He’s a decent warrior—not as good as Varex, but loyal and zealous. If necessary, he’ll fight until we’re both killed.
I’ve spent my life yielding to impulse, making choices in the heat of the moment. Swearing a bone-oath to my father, allying with Vohrain, concocting the plan to capture the women, snatching Serylla as she fell from the wall.
This time, I will be ready to act. But until the moment arrives, until I have no other choice, I will do something infinitely harder. I will wait. I will stand here, in this disguise, pretending to be human, while the King of Vohrain draws my Princess onto the platform with him.
At his direction, she kneels, facing the crowd, while Rahzien takes his place behind her.
He places one hand on Serylla’s golden head, almost fondly, and my hatred for him doubles.
“Citizens of Elekstan,” he calls out. “Behold—your beloved princess has returned.”
10
I’m on my knees with the King of Vohrain at my back, his hand heavy on the top of my head. Throughout the square stand my people, a variegated painting of countless whispering colors. So many faces, in shades from deepest black and golden tan to icy white. Eyes, green and brown and blue, trained on me.
Since I was a child, I have loved this city, these people. I’ve found friends in every town I’ve toured throughout my life, but the Capital holds my heart. It’s huge, and yet I recognize at least three dozen faces to which I could put a name.
With their eyes and their expressions, my people sing me a voiceless melody of sorrow, sympathy, and vengeful anger. They are a silent symphony, heartstrings pulled tight, vibrating, on the verge of breaking after everything they’ve been through. My soul draws strength from them, as it did from Parma, from the woman in the hallway, from the stable hands in the courtyard.
I still can’t forget the face of the girl I killed on the island, the one who tried to drown me. I’m sure there are people like her throughout Elekstan, whose rage is focused on me now that my mother is gone. But in this moment, all I sense from the crowd is sympathy.
“The dragons stole women from this city,” Rahzien declares. “Some of you lost wives, daughters, sisters, friends, all of whom have been brutally raped and devoured by their dragon captors.”
Someone in the crowd begins to wail, a heartbroken, keening sound.
“Because of this travesty, the dragons are no longer our allies,” Rahzien continues. “I have taken measures to ensure that they will never again be a threat to you or any other humans. The only captive I was able to save from the dragons was your princess. However, she is not blameless. She and her mother refused to surrender to my forces, and their obstinance resulted in countless deaths. Rest assured, she will be punished for her part in this bloody, unnecessary war. I am teaching her the error of her ways. Teaching her to submit. To know when she’s been beaten.”
He’s so cruelly skilled at this, at twisting the truth and transforming it into something ugly and hopeless. I only hope my people have the wisdom to see through his lies.