Read Online City in Ruins by R.K. Ryals - Free Book Online

eyes
unreadable.
    “You have a tendency to cause a show,” he said,
his voice low.
    Inhaling, I placed my palm in his, my eyes
forward. His gaze fell to my wrists before sliding away.
    “I believe I’m representing an egotistical
lot,” I whispered back.
    His hand tightened on mine, squeezing before
releasing. My body, my mind, and my heart never seemed to belong to
just me.
    “It is the folly of leaders to believe we
control only ourselves,” Cadeyrn said near my ear. He stepped back,
his gaze passing over the men and women ahead.
    “Move forward!” he ordered.
    We marched onward, the stifling desert closing
around us. Black-winged wyvers watched us from the sky, and a few
of the soldiers broke away from the group, leading two horses into
the desert, their swords in their hands. The horses were bait,
fresh kills used to keep the wyvers at bay.
    My feet followed, the horses’ cries
chasing me. The word loon kept circling my head, the occasional glance
thrown my way.
    The only thing I cared about were the horses.
“Is there no other way to satisfy the wyvers?” I asked.
    Lochlen moved next to me, his shoulder brushing
mine. “The wyvers are predators, Stone. They need the fresh kill.
The soldiers are making the hunt easier.”
    The horses cried once, a scream of despair in
the distance, and then there was silence. No one other than
Lochlen, Oran, and I heard the words they yelled in
death.
    “Save us!” they’d cried. “We do not fight this
war!”
    So many innocent lives. So many
sacrifices.
    My gaze fell to my wrists. The goddesses had
given me the mark of the mage and the mark of the scribe. The marks
didn’t mean what they once did, but it didn’t stop me from rubbing
at the tattoos. It didn’t stop me from wishing I could wash them
away.
    “I’m losing myself,” I told Lochlen.
    His yellow-green eyes peered down at me. “The
best heroes always do.”
     
     
     

Chapter 9
     
    Traveling across the bottom of the desert into
one of the port cities controlled by Sadeemia didn’t take as long
as it did to march across the Ardus into the country’s capital.
What would have taken weeks had we marched on Majesta took only
days. Sadeemia ruled two ports just below the desert, the towns
close enough to Medeisia to feel the country’s presence and far
enough from Sadeemia to feel independent. Like the town of Rolleen,
the villages we came upon—Wafer and Seasia—were made of white
washed houses built into the cliffs with bright, colorful roofs.
Unlike Rolleen, the houses were not freshly painted and the
citizens didn’t come out to greet their prince.
    Curious window-shadowed gazes followed us as we
stepped free of the desert and made our way from blistering sands
to rocky cliffs, the harsh wind blowing in from the sea tousling
our sweat stained clothes and cooling our heated, red
faces.
    “No parade through the streets?” Daegan
asked.
    Reenah, who’d been traveling with Catriona’s
maids, fell back, her gaze on the cliff side villages. “There’s a
healthy respect for the Sadeemian monarchy here, but it isn’t as
celebrated as it would be closer to the capital. To most, Seasia
and Wafer have earned their right to independence. Not from
Sadeemia. They are too small and poor for that. But from the pomp
and regalia expected from others. People die here more often than
not, the fishing this close to the rough waters surrounding
Medeisia making it more dangerous than work close to the Sadeemian
capital.” She glanced at me. “Your healing abilities would be more
respected here than royalty. They respect what helps them
survive.”
    Her words struck a chord within me. Survival
was something I understood.
    Above us, seagulls flew, making quick passes
before gliding over the sea, their raucous calls following
them.
    “What did the horse say when he was
tickled?” one of the gulls asked. “HeeHaw!” he answered
himself before any of the other birds had a chance to
reply.
    “That’s a donkey,