The Time Tournament (Order of the Dragon #1)

CHAPTER 33

Elena

February 1431

“H

e’s not going to hear you, you dumb bitch.”

“Killian, please, help me,” I begged, but my pleas only made him angrier.

“Stop talking.” He punched me in my right side so hard I forgot how to scream.

“What the hell is this?” Killian’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Someone heard me. He heard me. I exhaled in relief.

“Release her,” Killian ordered, sounding dangerously calm. But the scum didn’t listen, so Killian ripped me from his grasp and leaned me against the wall next to him.

“Touch her again, and I’ll separate your head from your shoulders before you even realize you’re dead.”

“What do we have here? The lesser Dragon Slayer, himself, defending a human wannabe rider. Something tells me you wouldn’t be so concerned about your other rider, the Jar Juggler. As a dragon yourself, I’m surprised you haven’t made her your plaything by now. Maybe your wits have weakened after the Time War.”

Killian didn’t even blink at the insult.

“I’m amazed Sigismund let your house participate in the tournament when your chosen voivode hasn’t even claimed his throne. After your mother’s death, you and your father have become Wallachian nobodies desperately holding on to past glory, huh? Maybe we should have a dragon council and decide who should rule over the Other Realm. Some of my peers would certainly agree.”

“You can’t lay claim to the throne unless your house has a Mother of the Dragon.” Killian tried to stay composed.

“You don’t have one either.” The Viridian sneered.

“Regardless of what you might think, we follow the established laws. Even without a Mother of the Dragon, our House rules over the Other Realm until a new Mother is chosen.”

“You’re nothing without your mother, even when she’s dead.”

Something cracked in Killian. He took another step, standing mere inches from him. He gripped his throat with one hand and slowly raised him off his feet. “I am Killian Valkorian, the Dragon Slayer, Prince of the House of the Crimson Dragon, Commander of the Fire Legion, son of Ulysses Valkorian––sovereign of the Other Realm. Between the two of us, only I can finish you off. And trust me, I’ll enjoy every bit of it.”

He let his words sink in. “When I touch fire, the fire gets burned,” he said through gritted teeth.

Similar to the Viridian scum, my eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. He knew about the jokes we made about him? Crap.

“Do. You. Understand?” Killian shook him in rhythm with every word.

“Yes.” Panic set in the other dragon shifter’s eyes.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, my lord,” he said, gasping for breath. But before he passed out, Killian released him. He flopped to the floor like a puppet and started coughing.

“Touch anyone in my family, including my riders, and we’ll have a great pyre in your memory. Let’s go, Costin.”

Killian checked to see if anything was broken and whispered, “Can you walk?”

I nodded. He pulled me to my feet and dragged me out of there. Surprisingly, my body recovered from the punches. The intense conditioning did its job.

As we rushed to my chamber, he said, “Stay as far away as possible from him.”

“I’m assuming he’s a Viridian but who’s he exactly? Tarra mentioned the other houses at the feast, but all the names got jumbled up in my brain.”

“His name is Volokh Ashenwold, son of Atlas Ashenwold. And now that I’ve breached Dragon Code, he’s going to retaliate.”

“Wait, you broke the law?”

“A Dragon Slayer threatening a regular dragon is usually frowned upon and would typically be raised as a matter of discussion in the dragon council.”

“He mentioned there was another Dragon Slayer.”

“Yes, his father.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh, shit, indeed. Volokh is also the one who cheated last time by using magic. Even if his honorable father disapproved, they still waged war against us. So it’s clear he deserved what was coming to him.”

“He dared mention your mother when he was the instigator?”

Killian stayed silent.

“And now he plans on tattling to the dragon council?” I asked.

“I doubt it will come to that.”

“How come?”

“He’s too proud to admit it, but he’ll certainly not hold back in the arena. We’ll have to put on a brave front and fight as a team.”

“I thought we always did.”

He halted and grabbed both my arms. “Now more than ever, we must act as a united front. There are too many enemies lurking. Our goal is–– ”

“I know, to win.”

“Which means you and Taddeus must stay alive, got it?” He looked into my eyes.

“Got it.” I nodded, praying he didn’t see my cheeks starting to blush.

“Good.” He released me and started walking. “In a week is when everything starts.”

Once we got to my room, he scrutinized me from top to bottom. “Do you need a medic?”

I shook my head.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Make sure you lock the door.” And with that, he left.

I entered my room, locked the door, and slid to the floor. With everything going on, I had little to no time to wrap my head around any of it. Despite years of training, I was still human. If I fell in that arena, there would be no more Elena. No chance to be reborn, Mel.

Well, if I died, I still had one shot since the raven had already sent the Glinting Book through history, but all my memories would be lost, and in a way, this version of me would be dead. And given that Mel died, maybe the Fates were done with me too. So if I died, it would probably be for real. No more dragon riding, no more Tarra, Laszlo, Lord Valkorian, and no Killian. Damn it, how could I have fallen for him? I had to be sick in the head. The only time this man showed me some affection was when he got struck by a poisoned arrow. I could search for those forest witches and ask them for the recipe, but I wasn’t sure if it would be good for his overall health. What are you doing, Elena? Questioning if poison arrows would be the answer? You are as delusional as they come. He’ll never return your feelings, so it’s best to move on. But how? I saw and trained with him every day. And considering how obvious I was, the whole Solomonari valley will know—well, except Killian, of course. Oblivious and Delusional met. Delusional fell in love with Oblivious. Nothing happened. The end.

I sat at the carved writing desk and traced the vines with my fingers. Then I pulled a piece of paper from the drawer. I had zero skills in writing with a quill, but my heart needed to put words on paper. Whatever those words were.

“I was as surprised as anyone when I found out.

I never planned to gift a part of me so soon,

But then I woke up without my own heart,

And I don’t know how to bring a sliver back.

Your piercing eyes, your voice so hot,

Warned me to stay away from you,

Yet I found myself drawn like a moth

To the light your soul cast on a moonlit path.

Now I sit and mourn the loss of me

To someone who has no need for it.

I can’t let myself be swept away by hope

When my heart hasn’t returned home yet .

Silence has become an old friend,

Reflecting on the times when I was whole.

But if I wait a little longer, then maybe,

Just maybe, I’ll have my heart back.”

What crap did I just write? My cheeks burned, and I wanted to do the same with the piece of paper. The fireplace was right there. But I couldn’t do it. The moment I put those words on paper, they came alive. They confirmed my feelings were real and not some fleeting obsession. Goodness, Elena the poetess. Delirious Killian needed to take a step back. A new poet was in town. What kind of dumpster fire has my life turned into?

The following morning, with my hair strategically covering the bump on my head, we all headed for Vlad II’s coronation. It was supposed to take place at St. Sebaldus Church.

The early morning was reflected in the foggy horizon, soft sun rays, and the crisp winter air. Everything looked like the marketplace on a Sunday. The streets were teeming with crowds excited to see the coronation. The air was fueled with anticipation as banners and flags displayed both the Hungarian king’s coats of arms and the Wallachian future king’s. Shouting and laughter rippled through the crowds as guards tried to maintain order .

Like most grand buildings in Nuremberg, this church was another great example of Gothic architecture. The church’s exterior had two soaring towers, making it seem taller than it was. Most of its facade was adorned with intricate stone carvings and religious iconography. The arched and stained-glass windows stretched from the ground to the top of the building. These medieval architects didn’t kid around when it came to their craft.

By the time we arrived, the door of the cathedral was open as the coronation had already started. The masses shoved one another to catch a glimpse of the ritual.

The guards that accompanied us failed to make space, so Killian pushed through the crowd, dividing it into two sections. We walked behind him until we entered the church.

Despite the entire church brimming with people, the main path stayed clear, allowing everyone to view the coronation. The church’s choir sang beautiful hymns that echoed through the high vaulted ceilings and the columns supporting its weight. Statues of saints, as well as shrines and paintings, completed the style.

We stood to the side and listened to the event unraveling when I noticed the Viridian father and son staring at me, cursing me with their eyes. I elbowed Killian and pointed with my face to our two future opponents. He whispered, “Don’t pay attention. They’re trying to intimidate you.”

I continued listening to the procession when I heard giggles behind me. I turned to see Tarra and Soraya laughing their butts off. Those girls were having the time of their lives, and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. I wanted a love just like theirs.

After the Archbishop anointed Vlad II and said, “By the grace of God, Prince of Transalpine Wallachia and Duke of Alma? and F?g?ra?…” Something, something… “Sigismund, the Holy Roman Emperor and King of Hungary, Bohemia, Dalmatia, Croatia…”

Afterward, he turned to the people and walked out of the church. Finally, I got a closer look at him. He was dressed in red garments with a green cloak and the order insignia around his neck. In his hand, he held a scepter.

Everyone applauded and cheered, and after he exited the church, he was taken by carriage before hundreds of people. Now that’s what I call a coronation. They had been doing these events on a grand scale since the 1400s.

I wanted to follow the parade and see how the procession would end, but Tarra grabbed my hand and said, “We can’t stay longer. We have serious matters to attend to.”

My heart dropped like a stone. “What serious matters?”

Tarra and Soraya giggled. “The dress fitting, of course.”