From the Ashes_A Dragons & Phoenixes Novel Page 7

  I kept my head down and tried to keep moving forward, the line of guards just feet away now. Almost there. I just needed to keep moving.

  "Where do you think you're going?" a man sneered next to me.

  And shoved me!

  I spread my elbows out to stay upright, shoving them between people and using them to steady me. But then someone else shoved me, and I stumbled again. I stayed upright with focused determination, knowing nothing I said was going to make an impact in this environment. Knowing that if I fell, the chances of being trampled to death were good.

  I needed to get out of here.

  I couldn't fight off this many people.

  Groupthink was in full swing. They might decide to tear me apart and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

  My heart pounded as I took in the angry faces, the image of the people in the front and the guards in the background seared into my brain. Sound faded away as the crowd continued to take its anger out on me. I was pushed away from the line of guards even as I struggled to resist.

  Then someone tripped me, the move harsh and deliberate, and I felt my feet slipping from underneath me.

  Was this it?

  Was I going to die at the hands of the very people I was trying so hard to help?

  I braced to hit the ground, but I hit something not quite as hard instead. Something that wasn't the ground. What?

  Hard arms wrapped around me, steadying me against a firm chest. I didn't fight it as I looked up.

  Straight into Sven's furious face.

  Chapter Ten

  Sven managed to do what I couldn't, pushing his way through the crowd with grim determination, with me in tow. He did it so quickly that people around us didn't even realized the king they were protesting against was literally right next to them until he was out of their reach.

  It was a dangerous move and I wondered how he'd been able to get past his own guards to do it. Igna would never have let him do it had Sven been within reach. The guards pushed into the crowd when we were near the edge and surrounded us, bringing us back past their line.

  Igna showed up, his face tense. He really hadn't liked Sven's rush into the crowd. I could see his right eye twitching in response, but he didn't address it.

  "We have to get you inside, to safety," he barked out, ordering the guards to push forward. "Having you out here will only rile the crowd up more."

  "No," Sven returned firmly.

  Igna's eyes shot back to his, the shock on his face clear.

  "My king, it isn't safe for you to be here until the crowd calms."

  Sven shook his head, resolute in his decision.

  "I need to be here to calm the crowd," he countered. "I've been waiting inside long enough. Leaving them out here alone has only added fuel to the fire. Take Adara inside while I take care of this."

  Igna continued to argue with Sven as the other guards now attempted to herd me into the palace. I refused to budge as well, shaking my head.

  "If he's out here, I'm out here too," I said, shaking off their hands.

  The guards looked at each other, and I could tell what they were thinking—that we were idiots that were going to get ourselves killed. And maybe they were right. I couldn't say this was the smartest thing I'd ever done, or the safest. But sometimes safety had to be secondary.

  I could understand what Sven was saying. There were not enough guards to hold back this many people indefinitely. Especially not if they decided to change forms and fly at the palace, which none of them had yet. That told me that they still weren't fully in a destructive mindset quite yet. That could change at any moment.

  If it did, if Sven had to evacuate the palace so early in his rule, that would be a difficult occurrence to come back from. Not only would he appear weak, it would leave a power vacuum that some enterprising soul could take advantage of, which would cause a whole new set of problems.

  I could extrapolate all of that, and I knew he was right.

  But when I watched Sven climb onto a decorative bench to get some height to address the crowd, it still sent a chill down my spine.

  Yes, he was strong and imposing as he stood there, his back straight, his face composed, his feet braced shoulder width apart.

  But he was still just a man.

  One man.

  Still mortal and vulnerable to attack.

  I had the urge to tell him to go inside, to opt for safety, but I suppressed it. He wouldn't appreciate it. Just as I wouldn't have. And then it was too late to ferry him back inside.

  Slowly, the crowd took note that the blond man directly in front of them was actually the king. The king they had come here to protest against. When I looked out at the surprised faces, I surmised they hadn't expected such a full-frontal response. I hadn't either. The knowledge of the king's presence rippled through the crowd, a hush falling over it as word traveled from person to person.

  Sven surveyed the crowd—his subjects—waiting for the quiet to descend.

  And I knew I wasn't the only one who would always remember the impressive figure he cut standing alone in front of the palace, facing the masses of people.

  He looked fearless.

  And sometimes appearance was everything.

  "I understand your frustrations," he began when he judged it quiet enough, his voice carrying effortlessly. "They are mine as well, I assure you. I also appreciate your decision to come here to air your grievances."

  He paused just long enough to give someone an opening they jumped right into.

  "You don't care about us!" The voice was male, but tough to single out in so many people. Multiple voices lent their agreement to the sentiment however. It didn't really matter who said it. I was sure he spoke for many in the group with him.

  "You are wrong," Sven responded, not sounding defensive or angry. Which was more than I could have said for myself in the same position. "The only reason I have ended up your king is because I care. Because I heard our collective voices—mine included—and was tired of feeling helpless. Because I could not hear of all the injustices occurring and do nothing." I looked out at the crowd, saw the angry, harsh faces turn conflicted. Not all of them. But many of them. "I want to hear everyone's voices. Everyone's grievances. It is why I stand before you now." That was a point difficult to argue against. He could have easily hidden inside or left, hoping that the crowd would disperse on its own. He could have even done what Emberich would have, using violence against his own subjects. The previous regime had not been one that would have tolerated any kind of political dissent, let alone one so public. Emberich wouldn't have even allowed the crowd to gather. "If any of you have anything you would like to draw to my attention, please, speak up."

  He scanned the crowd expectantly, patiently.

  Taking out my tablet, I walked over to his side, ready to take notes. Sven glanced down at me and saw the tablet in my hands. He smiled.

  "I appreciate the optimism," he muttered under his breath as he turned his attention back to the crowd. I understood his trepidation. This could still go in either direction.

  I could feel the people wavering. But I also knew they were longing to be given a voice. We'd all been suppressed for so long. Forced to take what was handed to us and not ask questions. Not hold anyone accountable. Would they take this opportunity? Or would they devolve into unproductive violence, frustrated and ready for any kind of action to help ease it?

  Then the first voice spoke up.

  "Why are some cities being rebuilt first?" a woman's voice called out, her tone accusatory.

  But it was a question. Not an attack.

  Sven zeroed in on her. She was closer to the front, easier to see.

  "If cities are being rebuilt, it is not with aid from us. Not yet," Sven explained. "They are using their own resources. But we hope to start helping with rebuilding soon, now that the necessities are taken care of."

  And then it was as if the floodgates had opened. Question after question poured out of the crowd, with S
ven fielding them expertly. I took notes as he answered calmly, with empathy, his intelligence shining through clearly with each word.

  I could feel the energy shift. Away from anger and resentment, where it had been flirting with violence. And to a tentative...hope.

  "Why should we believe you?" an older man shouted out, his hair glinting silver in the sunlight. "I remember when Emberich was crowned. He spoke fine words too. And he didn't mean any of them."

  Sven nodded as the crowd shifted uneasily.

  "I understand your concern," he agreed, spreading out his arms. "I can't convince you of my sincerity with words alone. And I agree that talk can be cheap." He let his arms fall to his sides again, his face solemn. "I would request that you let my actions speak for themselves. What I've done so far and what I will do in the future. Those actions will be the evidence to test my words against. All I ask is that you allow me the opportunity to convince you."

  The answer was candid and honest. Exactly what the crowd needed to hear in that moment. There were a few more comments and questions after that, but the group slowly started to disperse, the wind of rage taken out of its sails.

  Sven had broken the snowballing momentum just in time.

  I had to admire the non-violent path he'd chosen. He could have attempted to kill the protest through harsher means, though it would have undercut the reputation he was trying to forge. But he hadn't, choosing to put himself at risk, using words rather than weapons.

  He didn't let up, step down, and leave when it was clear the protest was winding down. He waited until he'd heard everyone. And it took some time. But he never looked impatient or less than attentive with each person who raised his or her voice. He treated the last one with as much importance as he'd treated the first. Only once it was clear everybody who wanted to speak had spoken did Sven step down from the bench, nodding at Igna and the other guards.

  "Thank you for your protection," he murmured.

  They saluted him crisply. I could see the actual respect on their faces. Respect that was earned, not feigned.

  As Sven turned away from them to me, I felt my own respect for the man—the king—rise.

  Perhaps...

  Perhaps this was someone I could follow with pride.

  Chapter Eleven

  "Come with me."

  Sven took a firm grip on my arm and led me into the palace, the guards following at a discreet distance. I waited until we were inside to pull away because I didn't want to ruin the effect he'd just had on the crowd, after all. He let me go with a frown.

  "Let's go to the audience chamber," he suggested, walking away down the hall before I had a chance to respond.

  "All right, Your Majesty," I muttered under my breath as I followed him.

  He shot me a glance that let me know I hadn't kept my voice low enough.

  And didn't I feel just terrible about that?

  Opening the door, he gestured for me to go inside, closing it after us.

  "Are you all right?" he demanded, reaching out as if to touch me, but letting his arm fall back down by his side before he did, his expression unsure.

  My stance softened a little.

  "I'm fine," I reassured him. "Just a couple of pushes."

  He scowled, pushing his hair back off his face in frustration.

  "A couple of pushes," he repeated, shaking his head. "They could have really hurt you, Adara," he said in a low, gruff voice. "You shouldn't have gotten into that crowd to begin with. You should have turned around as soon as you saw it. You need to take more care with your safety."

  That was a whole lot of opinion on what I should have done. I sighed in exasperation, drawing his eyes back to me.

  "You should have stayed back from the crowd," I pointed out. "They could have hurt you a lot worse than they hurt me, considering you were the reason they were there in the first place."

  "It isn't the same—" he started, scowling.

  "You're right, it isn't," I interrupted, not willing to be lectured on this point. Especially not when he was being so hypocritical about it. "You are the king. So you being incapacitated or..." I skipped over the worst scenario, not wanting to even think about it. That was a real risk he had taken. "Something happening to you wouldn't just have been bad for you. It would also destabilize the phoenixes as a whole, something I'm not even sure we could survive again. So yes, it is different. Very different."

  He took a step closer, his mouth pressed in a tight line.

  "You think I gave a shit about any of that when I saw you in the middle of the crowd?" he growled, his eyes glittering with fury. "All I could think of was what would happen if someone decided pushing wasn't enough."

  But underneath that anger was something that gave me pause. He was scared. I felt my stomach flutter. He was scared for me. And I knew he was being completely sincere.

  You don’t get scared for someone unless you care about that person. I took that knowledge and held it close to my chest. I let myself have at least that.

  But I wasn't backing off of this. Not when I was right. This was a hard truth, but it was one he needed to hear. He couldn't think like a regular person anymore. He had a heavier responsibility now. That crown was more often a burden than a blessing.

  "You signed on to do this job," I said softly. "You have to give a shit now. It's part of it. Part of all this," I added, gesturing to the palace around us. "You owe it to the people.

  His eyes narrowed.

  "I don't have to do anything," he snapped. But then he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, closing his eyes briefly. Getting himself under control. "Okay. Fine. You're right. I shouldn't have waded into the crowd. I suppose I haven't adjusted my thinking, not in that way." He took a step back, his eyes level. "But I'd do it again, Adara. If I saw you vulnerable like that..." He clenched his jaw. "So...try not to walk into any more violent mobs. Is that a fair solution?"

  My mouth twitched.

  His quirked in response.

  I nodded, biting my lip.

  "That seems fair," I agreed in a measured tone. "I think that's something I can promise."

  "Good," he said, turning and walking to his oversized desk. "Now that we have that ironed out, why don't we go over what we just learned straight from the source?"

  I nodded, following him to the desk more slowly. The argument felt like it had almost...melted something between us. We hadn't addressed what had actually caused the tension to rise in our relationship, but the first real interaction we'd had in days somehow managed to make a dent in the problem. I felt like I could breathe, even though we were here alone, something that usually always put me on edge.

  I took a seat. I hadn't expected that outcome at all.

  "Do you want me to start with the first one or group them?" I asked as I took out my tablet.

  "However you want to organize it," he replied, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms, his head tilted back to look up at the ceiling as he waited.

  I nodded, starting at the top.

  In more ways than one.

  Chapter Twelve

  I was going through one of my many checklists as I walked down the hall leading to the small audience chamber. It felt like I was always drowning in lists, but I'd learned my lesson when I'd tried to remember a couple of things and promptly forgotten them. There was just too much going on for me to keep track of everything without writing it down. So I made lists and checked items off of them.

  I had to admit, I did get a nice bump of satisfaction every time I was able to take something off of one.

  I looked up as I reached the doors, ready to greet Igna as usual. My first clue that something was wrong was that the space where he usually stood was empty. I stopped in my tracks, thrown off by the change in my routine. Where Sven went, Igna went. So if he wasn't here in his spot...

  I frowned as I checked my schedule. Yes, this was the time we'd agreed upon for today. But this was also where I was used to finding Sven most days.

  F
ootsteps had me looking up even before my name was called.

  "Adara?"

  It was as if I'd summoned Igna with my thoughts.

  "Morning, Igna. Where is he?" I asked, walking over to meet the big guard.

  "We have visitors," Igna explained, turning back the way he'd come and gesturing for me to follow.

  "Visitors?" I parroted, keeping his pace. "Who?"

  "Mia Hill."

  Mia?

  I wasn't proud of it, but a quick stab of completely unfounded jealousy might have hit me and left. It would be politically expedient if Sven were to have a relationship with Mia. She was the one with the blood claim to the throne after all.

  "And the Dragon Lord Ashur. And the child."

  If it wasn't for the fact that she already had someone. I tried to ignore the relief that coursed through me.

  I didn't have a claim on Sven. Stupid emotions.

  "The child?"

  He nodded.

  "Omari."

  Ah. I remembered the little boy with the wide smile that rarely showed when his father was around. Understandable. I wouldn't smile much around Emberich either. When I'd learned Mia had taken him for good, I'd breathed a sigh of relief. Emberich wasn't one to let loose ends like children live for long. Not when they had valid claims to the throne he intended to hold on to for as long as he possibly could.

  I was glad all over again about his death. Maybe it was bloodthirsty of me. I only wished that so many didn't have to join him on the road to his assassination.

  But that wasn't what I needed to focus on right now.

  "What are they doing here?" I asked, multiple scenarios, all bad, streaming through my mind. "Did something happen?"

  Igna shook his head.

  "I don't believe so," he murmured as we entered the private wing of the palace. "I believe it is simply...a visit."

  Just a visit, huh? I looked around as we entered the private wing, distracted by the sight of it. I'd never been in this section before. I hadn't been on those kind of terms with Emberich.