Page 23 of Fated Flames: Volume Two
Their features grow more discernible as we near, and I lift a brow at their attire, or lack thereof. “Do they ever wear shirts?” Even in the oncoming chill of night, their torsos are bare.
Soren snorts. “No.”
His hand tightens on mine as we near, but his voice is light as he addresses them. “Are you gentlemen lost?”
The lips of all three wyverns curl with disdain.
“You know why we’ve come,” the one in the center says. Closer now, I see he isn’t simply large—he’senormous. Scars track down his long face, and his nose appears to have been broken more than once.
All marks of a vicious fighter.
Soren casts a look toward the dimming horizon. “Hm. Surely not a challenge, Seltzen. It’s past sundown.”
“The sun was still visible when the challenge was made.” The wyvern juts his chin toward Rally. “Your wingmate was too slow in delivering it.”
A low growl emanates from my right. To my surprise, the sound issued from Ty, who has appeared alongside his brother and the other guards.
“A pity,” Soren says, “but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait till morning. I’ll have a tent prepared for you and your wingmates.” With that, he begins to turn us around.
“I didn’t come all this way to be denied,” Seltzen says.
Soren continues on, ignoring him.
“Are you afraid, Dragon King?” the wyvern snarls at our backs.
This time, Soren doesn’t even seem to hear him. He glances over at me with bright-eyed eagerness. “I’m thinking of sending for cake before bed. How do you feel about dates? We’ll have everything drizzled with chocolate, of course.”
I blink at him as Seltzen continues his tirade, a strange desperation creeping into his voice.
“Wyrm,” he cries. “Fight me, or I’ll—”
I sling around, bringing Soren with me.
“Is it water you’re after?”
The wyvern stares at me like someone would if a rock started speaking to them. “What?”
Truthfully, “What?” is what I think to myself. What am I doing? It’s been a long day. Perhaps my reason has been dulled by fatigue.
That or Soren’s lips…
“Water,” I repeat, drawing myself back to the present. “Are the wyverns in need of water?”
If the throne is all he’s after, why the distress? Tirenth is in a drought; I can’t imagine the wyverns’ territory isn’t as well.
The wyverns shift uncertainly, their avoidance an answer in of itself.
“I’ve only come here to challenge the King of Tirenth,” Seltzen says in a poor imitation of disinterest.
“If it’s water you need,” I say, “I will come draw for the wyverns as well.”
One of their group audibly gasps, as does one of ours. Soren is silent, but I don’t dare look at his expression. Seltzen eyes me with open suspicion.
“Why?”
My eyes flick to the crowd beyond. We’re too far for me to mark faces, but I know they’re all watching, every one of them at the mercy of rain and wells and springs that never bring enough.
“Because water is life,” I say.
