Verath the Red (Dragonwall Series #3)

Chapter 18 - Going into Battle

Squall's End

Tamara heard shouting as she fastened her gown about her waist—probably an angry group of Drengr returning from a sweep. It happened from time to time. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Today she wore a shade of deep green velvet, with just enough stretch to make it more comfortable than most other gowns. She preferred old fashioned gowns that clasped in front, rather than those with corsets squeezing the life out of her. Besides, corsets were for women with chests. And without a handmaiden assisting her, dressing was far more challenging.

Her current roommates were already tending to their chores. Sophie and Celia had earlier mornings than she usually did. Neither had been successful during the Touching Ceremony. While she'd found a mate in Byron, they hadn't. Sophie didn't hold it against her. They'd become fast friends. Celia, on the other hand, took every opportunity to shoot her simmering glares. Celia with her beautiful face and perfect figure. Celia, whom everyone was certain would have found a mate. It was for that reason Tamara couldn't wait to move out of their quarters. But not until she bonded with Bryon.

She quickly fixed her loose strands of hair into a tight braid, rushing through the motions. Late already! Perhaps she ought to simply skip breakfast and head straight for Emmy's apartments. In hindsight, sleeping in was a bad idea.

She and Byron had stayed up late, walking the length of the fort's battlements, discussing the possibilities of their future. Their bonding ceremony was two days away, which shouldn't have seemed like much, except each day moved slower than the last. She may as well have been wading through molasses.

Her gown was finished, as of yesterday, and locked away with the rest of her belongings. She wore the key around her neck, even though she knew Byron would never be so conniving as to sneak a peek. She glanced over at the wooden trunk and smiled.

Another cry outside her chamber made her frown. She glanced at the window and her frown deepened. A couple of people rushed past. "You'd think we were under attack," she muttered, finishing with her hair.

The door to her chamber burst open on its hinges, slamming against the wall.

"Good gods!" She clutched her chest and gasped. Sophie sprinted into the room straight for Tamara, grabbing her wrist, dragging her away from the mirror.

Tamara pulled back. "What...? Sophie! Stop it! What are you doing?"

"Gods, Tamara! Don't you know? We're under attack. You've been hiding out in here all this time? Hurry!"

She ripped her hand from Sophie's grasp. "That's impossible. We cannot be."

It was a drill. The fort leaders had feared an attack for weeks and promised drills would become a regular way of life. It didn't mean Sophie needed to drag her from her room. On cue, bells began ringing in the distance.

"Tamara, you must believe me! The attack is real!"

She glanced outside, frowning. "But it cannot be."

"Please, we've got to go!" Sophie managed to drag her into the corridor.

The courtyard beyond was a rush of running bodies. People shouted and ran about. The frenzy was uncoordinated and chaotic. "But I don't understand." She rubbed her wrist. "Byron would be here if we were in danger." She glanced up at the sky. No sight of the Drengr.

"Come." Sophie took her arm this time. In the light, Sophie's face was bloodless. "We've been ordered to shelter below the dining hall. It's the safest place in the fort."

Other fort dwellers were headed the same way.

"No. I can't go below—will not. I'm a Rider, Sophie. I need to find Byron."