Dreams of Fury: Descendants of the Fall Book IV Hodges, Aaron (room on the broom read aloud .TXT) 📖

matching gauntlet aglow, whispering for Erika to give up, to surrender. A moan tore from her lips, a sharp, rasping cry in the peaceful darkness of the dawn.

Erika struggled against the urge to flee.

Because the truth was, beneath her anger, a terrible fear held her tight, a terror for what the queen would do, now she had regained her city.

Rising from the pile of straw she had used as a bed, Erika knelt in the gloom of her tent. She had spent the night with the Calafe, in the square still called their own, rather than in the citadel. Just the thought of sleeping under the same roof as the Flumeeren queen made Erika sick with terror.

And if Erika had been enraged by Amina’s admission to the city, the Calafe had been livid. It was all Erika could do just to keep them from storming the citadel. She still wasn’t sure whether it had been the right decision to stop them, to accept the peace Lukys had brokered. She knew Amina. There was always something more to the woman’s actions, some ulterior motive that would see her enemies crushed.

Steeling herself, Erika finally gathered herself and rose from the straw mattress. Leaving Cara to sleep in the corner she had claimed for herself, Erika stepped from the tent. A shiver ran down her spine as the brisk morning air greeted her. A flicker of movement nearby announced Darien’s presence. The man had appointed himself her guard, and was never far from her side now.

She nodded a greeting that the man returned. “Couldn’t sleep, Your Majesty?”

Erika supressed a frown at the title. She might have asked for this, but it still sounded strange to her ears. Shaking off her own doubts, she shrugged, and her gaze was inevitably drawn to the citadel towering on the hill above. There was to be a meeting of Monarchs this morning. She would have to be present, to stand in the same room as the woman who had killed her father and listen to her speak. Just the thought of seeing Amina’s smiling face was enough to spark a flicker of light from her gauntlet.

Shivering, Erika forced herself to exhale, then turned to stroll down the lines of the Calafe camp. The refugees were only just beginning to rise, and she watched with interest as they prepared kettles over freshly lit firepits, as they hugged and waved greetings to one another. Her people. It was still difficult to believe it, that they would welcome her so freely after all these years in exile.

They made a loop around the plaza before returning to her tent. Cara’s snores still came from within and Erika hesitated to wake the Goddess. She feared going to the citadel alone—very little could stop Amina now she was within the city. In fact, Cara might be the only one capable of going toe to toe with the queen. But the Goddess needed rest after their time on the road, after everything the two of them had been through, and Erika was about to turn away when a harsh cry came from within the tent.

Cara appeared a second later, still only half dressed, wings spread, amber eyes aglow with…something. The Goddess swung wildly from side to side, before finally seeming to notice Erika.

“Erika!” She gasped. “Somethings happening, beyond the wall, with my people. They’re terrified!” The words tumbled from her mouth faster than Erika could follow, then ceased abruptly. “Their voices…” Cara murmured, before her eyes widened. “The fledgelings!”

“Cara, what—” Erika tried to make sense of the Anahera, but Cara cut her off.

“The Fledgelings!” she cried again. Abruptly, the Goddess hurled herself into the air, leaving Erika and the other Calafe staring dumbly after her.

Erika’s heart pounded hard in her chest as she watched her friend spiral upwards, auburn wings flashing in the light of the rising sun. Panic spread through her soul as Cara disappeared beyond the rooftops, leaving her behind.

Whispers spread around Erika, growing quickly as the Calafe emerged from their tents in search of the source of the commotion, only to find their bedraggled queen standing in the middle of the street, eyes on the heavens. They followed her gaze, confusion in their eyes.

It was long seconds before the import of Cara’s words finally struck Erika. The fledgelings, the children of the Anahera…it couldn’t be, could it?

Something swelled in her chest, a sudden hope, the glimmer of a possibility. Then she was spinning on Darien, drawing an aura of authority about herself, igniting the power of her gauntlet.

“Darien, gather as many of our warriors as you can, now!”

The one-armed warrior didn’t hesitate to ask questions. In an instant he was turning from her, bellowing out orders. Despite the ramshackle appearance of the camp and the ragged appearance of her people, they obeyed with the discipline of trained soldiers. Those still fit for battle cast aside loafs of bread and mugs of coffee in exchange for great-axes and broadswords. Within minutes, a force of a hundred men and women had gathered around Darien in answer to their queen’s call.

Erika swallowed as their eyes fell upon her, taking in the glittering weapons and hard faces. Only once had she led soldiers into battle, when she’d forced Lukys and his Perfugian regiment to follow her south of the Illmoor River. It had ended…badly. But she could not hesitate now.

“Calafe, my friend needs our aid,” she said shortly. There was no time for long speeches. “Follow me!”

At that she spun on her heel and raced from the plaza, praying that her new authority and Darien’s respect amongst their people would be enough to convince these warriors to follow. It might have been her imagination, but there seemed to be a pause, before the pounding of boots finally chased after her. Her eyes on the sky, Erika exhaled in relief, but she couldn’t count her blessings yet.

Above, she glimpsed Cara as the Goddess soared back over the city. Spying Erika below, she gestured violently in the