The Reckless Reign (Book 3, The Culled Crown Series)

Chapter 48

Reubinon Palace, Pellarmus.
Sail for Erydia in one day.

I started going on runs every morning, not to strengthen my body necessarily—although I wanted to do that too—but to get my ability back under control. Since Jaxon was Erydian and was already acquainted with me, he got the pleasure of trying to keep up with me as I ran the mist-kissed, gray streets. I let hm set the pace most mornings, not caring how fast we went just so long as I was able to focus on conjuring and manipulating flame.

I dipped my ability into every fire we passed—every forge, every bakers oven, each candle lit window. By the second day, I'd become so accustomed to doing it, that I hardly had to think. Each run was just the pounding of my feet against pavement and the steady inhale-exhale of my lungs.

On each run, Jaxon would slow us to a stop at our usual bench. I had to admit, the overlook was much prettier at dawn—when the sun was just rising and the waves below had eased far out, revealing patches of sand and rock that were usually hidden from sight. We never talked about that first night and how dark things had been. How close to the edge of that cliff I'd come.

Instead, when we did talk, it was strategy and questions about my abilities and the Culling. He'd come to Pellarmus when Britta did and had been a part of the guard who had left the palace with her. So, he'd seen some of the competition and was pretty familiar with how it worked. Even though that was a part of my life I didn't like to dwell on, I didn't mind discussing it with him. In Pellarmus, so far from Erydia and the arena, I felt freer. Talking about my experiences didn't hold the same threat here that they did when I was back home.

The day before our voyage we awoke to news that one of the major cities in Pellarmus had been attacked. Caine had sent a fleet of ships to ransack Ortyga Palace, a secondary home Darragh kept and used during the winter months. The Erydian forces had expected the royals to be there. According to the report, fifty six people were killed in a bombing that took place in one of the markets. They'd lost ships and homes and the palace there had been burned to the ground.

Darragh had been furious. The city had been cast into mourning. Haniver had been told to ready their troops.

I think Darragh might have left that day if he'd thought he could manage it—but the ships weren't ready and the last of the weapons still needed to be loaded. I'd spent the morning with Anna, watching her paint as Britta and Darragh stood on the balcony of the palace—where they'd stood only days earlier—and addressed their frightened country. I think they'd hoped to keep the war in Erydia. But to have blood spilt on their own soil, it was different.

They were now a broken people. And as I'd learned myself, grief came in waves of sorrow and anger. But more than anything, grief pushed people to action. By the time we gathered for dinner that night, military enlistment had risen enough that Darragh had brought in more ships. The Pellarmi were a peaceful people, but they were also a warrior nation and they trained for times like this. The fact that more people hadn't been killed in Caine's attack was due to their preparedness.

Gazda and the surrounding Erydian cities would not have that preparation.

The attack here had been bad, but it hadn't been a slaughter.

"It very well could have been," Darragh said over dinner. "We were lucky. Most of forces in that area hadn't yet migrated here to join our fleets. Our soldiers were gathering to leave and were able to already be in place to defend the city. The palace was left undefended, but it was empty and, as far as I'm concerned, it can be replaced. The lives lost, however, cannot be."

Britta only nodded.

She'd been quiet about it, even during the broadcast, she'd had little to say. Those who were angry about the attack came in two groups—one half rallying to make a move against their Erydian enemy and the other believing Britta had brought this upon their people. I wasn't sure if it was the guilt or our impending departure that kept her silent.