Page 31 of The Last Storm
She set the sponge down, nodding slowly. “When he was thirteen.”
My hand covered my mouth.
“On his thirteenth birthday, Rogue… He should’ve been able to shift like his father, but for some reason, he couldn’t.” She flinched, closing her eyes. “I was there that day, watching from a window inside the castle. It was only about six months after Adrastus usurped the throne and things were still unstable with the sudden transition of power. He expected Rogue to show the realm another powerful draig, the first of his kind to also wield the flames. He was to be a demonstration of undeniable strength. The continuation of the Draki line.”
My chest clenched in anticipation of what was coming, desperately not wanting to hear, but feeling like I needed to.
“When he couldn’t, Adrastus exploded in a rage, shifting enough that his claws extended to the length of fingers. He… He sliced him, through him. That scar, you only see the tip of it at his neck,” she uttered, shaking her head, her gaze unfocused. “Adrastus sliced him from his ear down to the opposite hip. From the window, it looked as if he had cleaved him in two. There was so much blood and his screams… It still haunts me to this day.”
The blood iced in my veins, my stomach twisting with nausea. I knew the weight of carrying what she saw, what she heard, as I carried it too, but our scars… They were nothing like the one Rogue carried, visible to the world, to scrutiny. To testimony of his father’s own hatred.
Tears pricked my eyes for the young, thirteen-year-old boy who had to bear that wound and the man still carrying it now.
“He should’ve died, and I’m sure that was Adrastus’ intent, but our healer, Iaso, healed him… barely. It took her weeks, months maybe, and when he finally did recover, Adrastus said nothing. He didn’t care.”
We sat in silence, her words hanging heavy over the air between us, as I was unable to conjure an adequate response.
With a deep breath, she picked up the sponge again, resuming her work, and my thoughts clung to Rogue in a way they hadn’t before.
Chapter Twelve
Rogue
My blood boiled with frustration as I marched through the castle.
She was right. She had easily distracted me and I fell right into her pretty little trap.
The more I dwelled on it, the more it irked me. The damned bond was clouding my judgment around her.
Smoke drifted from my palms. My eyes darted to it, glaring as the smoke rolled off in heavy waves. It had been decades since I’d lost control and this was the third time in a week my magic had seemed to have a mind of its own.
Scoffing, I clenched my fists, jerking them down to my sides, and continued to the library. Once there, I found Alden pouring over a thick tome, laid openly on a stand. Hearing my footsteps, he closed his book, turning to face me with his hands clasped behind his back.
“How are you today, Rogue?”
Alden had been here since my father died, serving as the librarian but also as an advisor. He had served King Vaelor, the one who ruled Ravaryn for two hundred years before my father assassinated him. Therefore, he was extremely well-versed in kingdom politics.
As I took the crown, he returned to Draig Hearth, offering his services. I thought to deny him at first, finding it impossible to believe that a friend of Vaelor would serve under me, but Iaso vouched for him. She believed his heart to be genuine, so I accepted him into my inner circle. Over the years, he had proved to be one of my closest and most trusted allies.
“I’m fine,” I sighed, sitting in a chair. “I sent the correspondence to General Starrin a full day ago. He should have received it by now, correct?”
“I would assume so. Did you list the terms for Ara’s return?” he asked and I eyed him.
“Yes, of course. Lay down arms, convince Adon to stop the attacks by any means necessary, and evacuate the villages that rightly belong to Ravaryn,” I stated, just as I had the day before. He knew the terms.
“And in exchange, you’ll return Ara to him? Safely?”
His use of her first name, so nonchalant, was starting to irritate me. I sat up straighter, turning to face him.
“Alden, you know this. What’s going on?”
He wrung his hands in front of him.
“Alden.”
“You cannot just give her back,” he said, raising his chin and meeting my eyes. “She does not belong in Auryna.”
“What do you mean?”
