Verath the Red (Dragonwall Series #3)

Chapter 47 - A Message for Claire

Kastali Dun

Saffra scowled, turning away from the sight over her shoulder. Commander Daxton stood exchanging blows with Bedelth, shirtless and glistening. They dove at each other, fists flying, faces snarling. Despite Bedelth's draconian advantage, Dax was a formidable opponent...for a human.

Her scowl deepened.

Maybe if he'd been more—more than human—the poison would not have left him in shambles. But he wasn't more, was he? The dark thought had frequently nagged her, even before the incident. A human's lifespan against hers, that of a powerful Mage. She would live for hundreds of years.

And what of Marcel's concerns? The potential that the poison had reset his body to a stage before...before what? Kane's interference within the keep, his stretch and influence, was unknown to all of them. What if...?

No. She shook her head, pushing away the thought, and fired another arrow.

But there was was no telling, was there? Who could be trusted and who couldn't? Humans were Kane's vessels of choice. Easily manipulated. How well had she truly known her beloved? Why did Marcel have any reason to suspect him?

It wasn't raining, but it may as well have been. She glanced up at the sky. Dark clouds sat heavy above her, leaving the air thick enough to drink, even despite the chill of autumn.

Maybe she didn't know Dax at all, even if they were meant to be married. Dax had been eager with her all those years ago—perhaps too eager—when he returned from the Gobelin Wars. He had singled her out. It had always made her feel special. Women fawned and preened over him, but she was the one he wanted.

She avoided another glance over her shoulder. Seeing him with Bedelth didn't help her focus. She'd come here for a distraction, not to be distracted. The practice grounds were usually the one place she found peace.

She snorted. Peace. There was no peace. Not in this world.

Taking a deep breath, she nocked another arrow and let it fly, trying to ignore the memories of Dax filling this place. His time spent training her. The way he often found her here in the early hours of dawn. The conversations they exchanged, getting to know one another.

Gods, she'd been so naive to believe in happy endings.

The arrow landed off target. She groaned. Her movements were deft as she repeated her actions over and over. Each time she emptied her quiver, she went to the target and collected her arrows to start again. Twenty. Fifty. One hundred. She lost count. Her arm ached deep in her shoulder. She welcomed the pain, pushing on.

The sun neared the horizon. The sounds died down around her, sharpening her focus. Clashing metal disappeared. Cries of excitement and frustration fell away. The day was coming to an end, and those on the grounds were retreating to the keep or barracks for the evening meal. She didn't dare look over her shoulder again. Dax was there or he wasn't. Either way, she could do nothing about it. So she fired another arrow.

"Still here?" Her arm twitched as Bedelth appeared beside her. The arrow missed its target.

She spared him a brief glance. His tunic clung to his sweaty chest, outlining the rigid muscle that lay beneath. The kind of muscle a human would never obtain.

She sighed, caring little for the sound of frustration. "Have you come to distract me?"

He chuckled. "I thought we had already done plenty of that."

She cringed. Had it been that obvious? She threw him a glare but said nothing. Instead, she nocked another arrow, pulled, and released. This one hit the target's center. "Why are you here, Bedelth?"