Chapter 95 Chapter Ninety-Five
Chapter 95 Chapter Ninety-Five
Isla observed Sylvan’s taut shoulders as he strode through the streets of Deveraux with purpose. Their completed bond allowed her to feel the tendrils of his anger and anxiety buzzing beneath her own skin. His fists flexed at his sides, constricting and relaxing over and over, pumping the frustration through his veins with each pulse as if he were preparing his body for a confrontation. For the past week, their focus had been on her: her training, her ancestry, her safety, her memory. He had taken a backseat to her evolution, helping her hone her talents and discover her true nature while he supported and watched with pride. It was easy, she realized, to forget how much power he himself held.
His aura rippled out in the air they passed through. Even though they walked among humans and dragon riders rather than the wolves he commanded, each person subtly bowed their head and looked away in submission or fear at the imposing figure stalking among them. She could hear the commands he sent out via mindlink, though muffled and distorted because she couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything other than the muscles of his arms and back. Sylvan of Eredhal radiated power in every muscle, every aggravated gesture, every resolute breath. He was an alpha wolf in his prime. Prince of the strongest kingdom of their time. A warrior whose strategies they would study for generations to come. The Mate Killer. Hers.
Sylvan’s inner circle of warriors converged on them as they neared the Deveraux Stone Conclave. While Sylvan debriefed them on the knowledge that the council’s messenger had arrived right under their noses, Isla gaped at the intricate stonework at the entrance of the legendary cave scored by ancient dragons.
“Isla,” Sylvan barked back without breaking stride.
Her eyes jerked to where he was moving up the stairs ahead of her. Though his tone was one reserved for a soldier stepping out of line, his extended hand signaled equality. She rushed forward and took his hand, allowing him to pull her to his hip so when they walked into the large entrance chamber, they did so side by side.
A group of men in various states of aging waited for them in a singular line with matching black robes laced in red trim. Each bore a unique dragon symbol on their left breast, indicating which faction of the kingdom they represented. The man at the center, who appeared to be the eldest, sporting a long greying beard that reached his chest, stepped forward and bowed his head out of respect. Sylvan did the same.
“Have you found her?” Sylvan asked without any further pleasantries.
The elder nodded. “She has been escorted to the dungeons, as you requested. She awaits your questioning there.”
“I’ll go there now,” Sylvan said, turning to his left and tugging Isla along with him.
“Not quite yet, Prince Sylvan,” another elder called over their shoulders.
Sylvan halted. Isla looked up to find his eyes turned toward the ceiling and his expression twisted with frustration. “If you will save us the pomp and circumstance, Lord Breckenridge, my future and the future of my mate lie in the words of the Aradian Council Messenger you have locked up beneath our feet. I would rather start asking what her intentions are before…”
“I insist you speak with us first,” Lord Breckenridge said, his words polite, but his tone one of condescension. Sylvan turned and glared across the space. “You are a guest in our kingdom after all,” Breckenridge continued. His polite smile turned to a sinister smirk of challenge. “We are not your devoted subjects, but concerned leaders ourselves. This matter must be handled with the utmost delicacy, no?”
Without further argument, Sylvan started in the direction that would lead them deeper into the conclave. He stomped past the line of elders, refusing to wait for them to lead. They came to a set of heavy double doors which Sylvan shoved open with his free hand. He walked to the center of the room while the elders filed in behind him and fanned out to take their seats set in a semicircular formation around the room.
“What is it you want to ask?” Sylvan urged, wanting the meeting to be over and done with as soon as possible.
He was on edge. He was ready to leave Deveraux and seek out the council. She wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt this need to do so. Perhaps he’d grown tired of idle living. Perhaps the shock of his parent’s death had finally worn off, and he was ready to seek revenge. Perhaps it was that they’d sent the messenger and he’d been so distracted by other events to notice the snake slithering about their feet.
One of the elders with a blue dragon on his robe spoke first. “How can we be sure Teresa is this messenger? You asked us to bring her in and, in the interest of our alliance, we honored your request. However, she is of Deveraux and…”
Cole scoffed. “She may have been born within our borders, but she does not honor any of the pillars of our people, nor does she claim to belong to any kingdom, let alone ours.”
“Whether she waves the flag is of no consequence,” Breckenridge interrupted. “What matters is she is of Deveraux blood, a dragon rider no less. What proof do you have that she was sent by the council?”
“None. Yet,” Sylvan hissed between his teeth.
Breckenridge scoffed. “You lack evidence and yet demanded we haul her to our dungeons? How do you even know she is the messenger and thus a traitor to her people? A vessel for the council rather than Deveraux?”
“The fae queen,” Sylvan answered.
“And she knows because…” Breckenridge asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“She is the fae queen,” Sylvan said slowly as though talking to a child.
“If she is a messenger, then why ask us to lock her away?” a different elder with a silver dragon on his breast asked.
“If she were simply a messenger, why wouldn’t she have delivered her message last night?” Sylvan answered with a question of his own. “She arrived and immediately set about testing my bond with my mate. She admitted to being within the council as a child,” he said, motioning to Isla. He took his hand away from hers in order to gesture into the air. “It is my belief that she was sent here first as a scout and then a messenger. She would first observe to see how many have followed me here, to learn whose loyalty is still on my side and who can be persuaded to leave it. She, most likely, wanted to get an idea of whether you are amenable to my requests, thus telling her how far your alliance will stretch with me. Above that, I believe she is here to eliminate my mate, to rip her from me, to weaken me, us.”
As Sylvan spoke, Isla took a few steps back. The elders’ attention was solely on her mate as he delivered an impactful speech about alliances remaining steadfast, how they could not let a young woman with a pretty face and dragon blood running through her veins persuade them to believe she should be sheltered from his questioning and his wrath.
Isla agreed with that… she also believed she should speak to Teresa before Sylvan, or anyone for that matter. Isla had questions of her own. At the entrance to the Heart Vault, Gregory turned and their eyes met. She gave a slight shake of her head, telling him not to alert the animated Sylvan that she was sneaking away. Shockingly, he didn’t make a sound; instead, he turned his attention back to Sylvan. Isla turned on her heels and headed back in the direction Sylvan originally tried to lead them: toward the dungeons.
The conclave had few, if any, people within its walls. While the elders resided in the catacombs, they had no families or servants living with them. Only apprentices and scholars wandered the halls, meaning it was easy for Isla to navigate through the various tunnels unseen. Getting to the dungeon seemed relatively simple: continue downward. The further into the underbelly of the conclave she ventured, the hotter the tunnels became. Soon, roars of a pained dragon echoed up the stairway. Chains rattled as the dragon fought against its captivity.
At last she reached the bottom of the stairs and looked out on a large expanse of flat rock and rivers of fire. Sweat dripped from her face and trickled down her back. Across the space she could see a red dragon fighting against its restraints. A sudden gust of heated wind blew Isla’s hair forward. Fear, sharp and barbed, worked its way up through her spine, straightening her back and causing a shiver to race across her shoulders. She slowly turned and came face to face with a black dragon with piercing gold eyes.
This dragon was not chained. It was a guard, the only guard needed to protect the inmates of the Deveraux Stone Conclave. It stared into her soul, weighing her intentions and whether it should do its bidding and rid the intruder from its keep. She took a single step back, and the pupils narrowed; she scented fire accelerant as the beast opened its maw. The crack of a spark echoed through its throat. She didn’t think; she reacted out of instinct. Isla raised her hand and touched the tip of the dragon’s nose.
Her tattoos ignited in a flash of glowing blue that radiated through the air around them. Steam rose up from her touch. The dragon flinched back. Its pupils dilated. Isla hushed the dragon as if her voice had the ability to calm the beast. Miraculously, it did. The dragon dropped its head to the ground and slowly lowered the rest of its body while gazing up at her with eyes of amazement. She rested her hand on his temple, and the dragon’s eyes closed completely as more steam rose from her cooling touch.
“Nice trick,” came a mocking voice.
Isla turned her head and spied, for the first time, the row of cells built into the walls surrounding the chamber. Keeping her hand on the dragon for as long as possible, she walked toward the voice. Teresa was tethered by chains that hung from the ceiling and walls, making movement impossible. Her skin was coated in a layer of soot and dirt, indicating she’d been dragged here against her will. A red stain on her lower abdomen seemed to grow with each passing second. In the distance, her dragon roared in defiance, and Isla caught the slight flinch of Teresa’s cheek and the quick glance over Isla’s shoulder in the direction of her dragon. When her eyes returned to Isla, the superiority was firmly back in place.
“What are you doing here, Princess? Here for round two?” Teresa asked.
Isla squatted down on the other side of the iron bars so she was at eye level with the dragon rider. “I’m here so you can tell me what we went through.” Teresa’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Isla gripped the bars with both hands. “I want the answers they’ve taken from me.”