“We’re in the port,” Amael answered dryly. “Docked while you two were busy, apparently. I thought you came in here to yell at him?”
At this, the Captain frowned. “Docked,” he said slowly, disregarding Sol’s initial intent entirely. “And no one’s come to greet us?”
Amael shook his head. “Docked,” he said. “And no one’s come to kill us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SOL
Sunlight danced off the sparkling shore like diamonds lit aflame. Pale sand shifted beneath Sol’s boots as she clambered up the Dryuan beach, her ankles twisting against the grain. Sweat gathered at her brow, her hairline, and already she was desperate for a break, a reprieve from the stifling heat that Amael had tried to warn her about. He’d certainly meant it when he’d told her the sun could burn the flesh from her bones here.
Between the Princess and Amael, Fynn stomped through the sand and cursed them all to the Gods. They had not let him come alone, had disobeyed his every order and followed him from the ship onto the dock. So had their brazen Quartermaster, traipsing over the shore behind Sol and grumbling about the heat.
Fynn’s jaw was set as they reached the outcropping of trees that hugged the coastline. He kept his hand on the pommel of his sword, his other within reach of Sol should he need to pull her from harm’s way. She pretended not to notice the frequent glances he spared her, he himself pretending to still be angry. Inconvenienced, perhaps, but the sigh of relief when Sol and the others had followed him onto the island had been audible.
He’d never wanted to come here alone, not truly.
Turning to Amael, Fynn scowled and said, “Lead the way, asshole.”
The boatswain shoved through the underbrush, hacking at vines and limbs with a curved blade that was half the length of Sol’s arm span. “My village is at the heart of the island,” he explained. “The forest offers protection from the elements, especially during monsoon season. But there are usually scouts in the trees.”
Riel snorted. “Maybe they’re at lunch.”
Fynn slapped the back of her head. “Shut up,” he said. “I only let you come on the condition you kept quiet. If Nero is hiding in these woods, I’ll be damned if we all die because you couldn’t control your mouth.”
Crossing her arms, Riel hissed out a breath. The forest floor trembled beneath their feet, and Riel flashed Sol a wicked smile as she yelped and grabbed Fynn’s arm. “You also let me come because my Magic is stronger here than yours. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“I sometimes forget you’re a Wielder,” Sol commented. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her sleeve. “I’ve never seen you use your Magic.”
“An Earth-Wielder, through and through,” Riel reminded her. There was a sense of pride in her tone. “I can manipulate rock and soil and plant life to my liking. Haven’t you ever wondered why the ship’s garden flourishes in the middle of the sea?”
The Princess swatted away a fly. “I’ve never really noticed.”
“That’s because you’ve been too busy kissing my brother.”
Fynn hit her again, this time in the shoulder and hard enough to leave a bruise. “Don’t start your shit.”
Amael began to saw through the trunk of an old tree that had fallen into the middle of their path. “Hey, Mrs. Earth-Wielder,” he grunted. “If you wouldn’t mind, I could use the help. I’d prefer the foliage stay intact rather than hacking it to bits.”
Tossing her braids over her shoulder, Riel raised her chin and held her hand towards the tree. The bark splintered, bending out neatly from the center and folding back until the rotted-out trunk was split in two.
Sol blinked in wonder at Riel’s Magic. She reached for the tree to investigate, but Fynn took her elbow and pulled her back. “Don’t,” he warned gently. “She’ll snap the bark at you if you get too close.”
The Quartermaster grinned as Sol looked at her. “He’s not wrong.”
Amael pointed onward with his sword. “This way,” he said quietly. He stepped over stones intentionally laid into the ground, marking out a path that was covered with dirt and leaves. Amael swept it all away with his foot.
Shaking Fynn loose, Sol slipped ahead to walk alongside Amael. “Are you all right?” she asked, lightly touching his arm. “I know you didn’t want to come back here.”
“I did want to come back,” he answered. “Eventually. Just not like this. There should be scouts tracking us from the trees and shooting arrows at us for trespassing. I’ve never heard this forest so quiet.”
“Is it truly so strange?” Sol inquired. “The silence?”
“Dragons live on this island, Sol. Dragons that are whipped and beaten and tortured into submission. Do you hear them?”
Sol frowned. “No.”
Amael dropped his voice to a whisper. “Dryu is allied with Dyn,” he told her. Sol’s footsteps became staggering. “During the war against Sonamire, Nero gifted a battalion of our fiercest dragons to King Caidem. In exchange, Caidem opened trade between our people. We’d nearly been wiped from existence after a terrible monsoon and we’d needed the food and supplies.”
“My father once told me about the dragons, and Silas still sees them in Dyn when he visits for trade negotiations.”
“I’m not surprised,” Amael said. “Caidem kept the dragons long after the war was over. He was fond of them, and he uses them as glorified guard dogs.”
Acid burned in Sol’s throat, her stomach threatening to empty its contents there on the forest floor. She gripped Amael’s arm as he helped her step over an uplifted tree root. “You don’t think that—”
“If the dragons were here, Sol, we’d hear them roaring.”
Her nails dug into the corded muscle of his forearm. “Nero sent them all to Dyn.”
Amael dipped his chin. “Our warriors with them, it seems, if they’re not in the trees tracking us. There’s no other place they’d be, and if Caidem truly is willing to go to war over something so trivial as a marriage…”
She was faint, Amael’s words piercing through her chest with brutal efficiency. “Maybe they moved the dragons to a different part of the island.”
“That’s wishful thinking, but no. I’ll show you the pits, if you want. There’s nowhere else here to contain them.”
Contain them, like they were beasts in need of being caged.
Sol drew a deep, shuddering breath of muggy air into her lungs. Her Magic raged, but with a forest between her and the sea, there was little she could do to calm it. “If they were at war,” she said. “Wouldn’t we have heard about it in Arrowbrook?”
“Probably,” Amael conveyed. “But you’ve only been gone a few weeks. They’re likely still rallying their armies. It won’t be long before they march.”
“I don’t understand,” Sol said. “You said it yourself—I’m just a girl. Why would Caidem and Thane go to war over me?”
Amael glanced at her from the corners of his eyes. “You want the truth?”