Dragon Flight (11 page)

Faolan, answer me.

He was angry now. How could she feel passion with Zorin, but not with him? Zorin who was a murderer. Who was ancient and had a slew of secrets and lovers behind him. Faolan had never even heard of him being faithful to anyone. And didn’t Isabelle say that he was interested in someone that was a friend of his mother’s? Zorin had to have tricked her. Or lied to her. But Faolan knew that wasn’t true. He saw the honesty in her actions. In the way she held him. And even with the blindfold he knew it was her. It didn’t make sense.

Faolan!

Go away, Father.

You insolent brat.
His father was fuming.
Come back here right now.

No.

His father was blissfully silent after that. Faolan began to turn toward the mountains. He had planned on returning home anyway now that he was done scouting for the night. But he didn’t want to give his father the satisfaction of thinking he had decided to come back just because he had ordered him. Faolan was the king now and he didn’t have to obey his father’s every demand anymore. It was a freeing thought.

He slowed his approach, aiming for the small opening of the training room. He was still worked up from the knowledge Isabelle had given herself to someone else. It shouldn’t have happened at all and certainly not with Zorin. He was a monster compared to her innocence. Faolan remembered her well, especially the lush curves she had grown into after Sebastian’s birth.

He slipped easily inside the large training room and dropped onto the warm stone floor, rattling the many weapons that stood in neat racks around the room. Faolan cleared his mind and settled onto the floor, preparing to shift into his human form to clear his head. He closed his eyes and began to feel his scales recede as he called the soft flesh forth in a gentle ripple. He heard the door slam, but paid it no attention. His father was probably angry about something down the hall.

The powerful swipe of claws across his shoulder brought him back to full attention. He quickly reversed what little skin had come out before facing his attacker. His father was there, a dark gray dragon almost twice his size. And he looked furious.

You will never ignore me again.

Faolan blinked disbelievingly at him. He took a step to the side of his father, attempting to walk past him, but he blocked his path with a fierce growl. Faolan stepped back and began to change direction to walk around the other side of him, but his father once again stopped him.

Something happened,
Faolan began.
I think the fidelity charm was finally activated.

Thadius stopped short and stared at him.
She was with someone else?

Faolan nodded.

And that idiot healer of ours didn’t think to mention that it hadn’t been reversed? You could have been killed!

Faolan shrugged. He had wondered about that as well.
Maybe there isn’t one.

* * * *

Thadius took a long hard look at his son. Faolan wasn’t just rattled because of the pain. He was obviously upset. The stupid child still loved her. With a sound of disgust, he turned away. “Maybe now you can get that whore out of your mind.”

* * * *

Before Faolan knew what he was doing, hot pain lanced through him, heating his blood to boiling as he shifted. His rage forced the shift faster, breaking and reforming his bones in seconds as heavy black scales covered his body. Thadius had barely begun shifting, but Faolan was already on him, tearing at him with his claws and teeth. Finally his father completed his shift and began fighting back, throwing Faolan away from him to crash noisily against the stone wall. Faolan came back at him quickly his powerful muscles burning under the fury of his blows.

Soon they were both bloody as chunks of stone rained down on them. With one fast strike, Faolan had managed to twist around his father, pinning him below him. He moved his teeth over his father’s vulnerable neck, the soft scales easily giving way beneath his fangs. At the last moment he pushed off his defeated father and turned away. By the time he reached the door, he was fully human again.

Isabelle lay draped over a soft cream chaise in Amalthea’s private sitting room. Outside the rain continued to pour, pelting the windows angrily. She had wanted to refuse the queen’s invitation to tea. She had tried desperately. But her messenger, or the evil henchman, as Isabelle had thought of him on the carriage ride from the manor to the palace, was insistent that her presence was not optional. So Isabelle had come. She hadn’t bothered to change out of the plain gown she had been wearing or to do anything with her hair. She hadn’t even let any of her servants help her get ready. She looked positively plain. Not at all like the next queen of Feeorin and she dared Amalthea to say anything about it. Her body ached and she had seen the bruises she knew would be there in her bath that morning. Fresh tears pricked her eyes, but she swore she would not cry about what happened last night. Not again. Never again for him anyway, the rotten bastard that he was.

“… horses in the field,” Amalthea was saying.

Isabelle startled, forgetting that the queen had been speaking to her. “Your majesty…I am sorry. I was wandering,” she said, fidgeting slightly.

Amalthea smiled at her. “Oh it is quite alright, child. I understand that you must have been quite busy last night.”

Isabelle sat up straighter. “Oh?” she asked, her eyes darkening as she stared openly at the older woman. “I hadn’t realized you had been told already. I must thank your son for being so prompt.”

“It wasn’t Zorin, darling,” Amalthea said. She picked a large tome from the dark wood desk against the wall. She passed it to Isabelle without looking at it. There was a ghost of something barely recognizable in her eyes, but she turned away before Isabelle could describe what it was.

“It’s a book,” she said out loud, barely glancing at it before brushing it off.

“And like most books, it was made to be opened,” Amalthea said, helping her open the heavy cover. “See, there are names on it.”

Isabelle nodded, watching Amalthea’s slender finger as it outlined her name and that of a man. “Dimitri?” Isabelle asked.

Amalthea smiled softly at the younger woman. “My first husband. A general in my mother’s army. A fine man indeed.”

“This is a wedding book,” Isabelle said with some alarm. “This is your marriage that is recorded.”

“Yes. The names appear here once a marriage is consummated,” Amalthea told her, flipping the pages to the latest entry and running her finger along the fine ink letters.

“You knew then. The book told you,” Isabelle said, looking at her own name scrawled elaborately along the pages. “Is it of just our family?”

“Yes, the kings and queens of this great empire are listed here,” Amalthea said.

Isabelle looked to the top of the pages, her breath catching in her throat. “Faolan…” she whispered, tracing his name as well.

“Yes, he is listed. But only because he was married to you. See, your son is listed, too. He is a part of you still, no matter how that awful king says otherwise,” Amalthea said, running her finger over the smaller lettering under Faolan’s name.

Isabelle nodded, brushing the tears from her eyes.

The door opened behind them, the hesitant motion scraping roughly against the smooth tile floor. Isabelle turned toward the sound, her eyes instantly narrowing on the dark figure that came through the door. “Zorin…” she hissed.

* * * *

He stood still, his feet barely in the room as he took in her open hostility. He held her gaze, neither being apologetic or afraid.

“Now really you two, is that any way for you to behave as newlyweds?” Amalthea chastised them with a wave of her jeweled hand.

Isabelle dropped her gaze, giving Zorin silent permission to enter the room. He came within a few feet of the chaise she rested on, never taking his eyes from her still form.

“You requested me mother?” he asked Amalthea, not turning to look at her.

She scoffed at the two of them, but paid whatever petty squabble they had started no more attention. She looked at each of them in turn. “Your marriage has been recorded. As such, I am no longer needed as the head of this household. The preparations will begin tomorrow to have Isabelle ascend the throne as the Queen regnant with you as her king consort.”

* * * *

It was said with a hard finality that Isabelle’s skin crawled.

Zorin nodded, in no position to argue with his mother.

Isabelle merely stared at her hands folded neatly in her lap. “Will there be a public appearance?” she asked Amalthea.

“Not quite as public as you’re probably thinking. It will be a small gathering of the most prominent families in Feeorin, a simple party compared to my many others actually,” Amalthea replied offhandedly.

“Angelus families, right?” Isabelle asked.

Amalthea nodded. Zorin tensed beside her. She could already feel the anger and resentment as it built inside of him.

“I’m human,” Isabelle reminded the queen. “Will your friends accept me as queen?”

Amalthea opened her mouth to speak, but Zorin beat her to it. “I’ll make sure that there isn’t any trouble,” he said as he placed his hand next to hers.

He was close enough that she could feel the warmth coming off of him, but not so close as to be touching. She nodded to him, silently thanking him for his support. His lips briefly twitched in a smile as he returned her nod.

Zorin wasn’t supposed to find Isabelle seated in the living room of her cottage wrapped up in a blanket with tears on her cheeks the next night. Instead he wasn’t really supposed to be there at all. And yet he was and as she stared up at him, her vision blurred through her large, sloppy tears, she didn’t have the strength to tell him to leave.

* * * *

“Isabelle?” he asked her, stepping closer. “Is Caden alright?” She nodded quickly. He joined her on the couch and took her clammy fingers into his. “Then what is it?”

She dropped her eyes, quickly pulling her hand away from his. “I’m pregnant,” Isabelle whispered brokenly.

Zorin hissed as he sucked in a breath. “Are you sure?” He saw her shoulders slump as she nodded and sighed softly. “Where’s Caden?” he asked, rising swiftly to his feet.

She bit her lip and looked out the window. Zorin couldn’t help but see how glazed her beautiful eyes had become. “With the scholars at the Palace. I thought it would be best if he stayed there for the night when I realized that my cycle was late.”

He smiled. “Perfect.” She looked up at him questioningly. “Get up. We’re going to the mountains.”

She was suddenly very pale. “What? Why?”

He looked at her as if she had grown a second head. “To see Kylin of course. I want him to check you over.”

“No,” she said, quite adamantly.

He stopped walking toward the door and met her eyes. “What?”

“You’re insane. I’m not going there.”

His eyes narrowed on her. “Why not?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, prepared to stare him down. “Whose child do you think this is?”

He snorted. “Faolan’s of course. I’d hardly call you promiscuous.”

“Exactly,” she said with a nod.

“So?”

She shook her head at him. “So why would I want to see him again? When I left we agreed that night would be the end of it. I don’t want to go back there again.”

Zorin shrugged and kept moving toward the door. “Plans change.”

She still refused to move. “I don’t want them to. And what if Thadius takes me going there as my getting close to Faolan again?” She paled, her hand going to her mouth as she hissed in a pained breath. “He could go after Caden. He said that he would.”

He suddenly turned on her, his anger barely under control. He growled low in his throat. “Look, like it or not you’re pregnant now. And Kylin is the best healer that I know. So I am telling you to swallow anything else that you may be thinking and go have Kylin look at you to make sure you’re okay. And forget about Thadius. Caden is under my protection now. Thadius can’t hurt him.”

Eyes wide, she stared at him. “Zorin—”

He shook his head. “Stop. I’m not going to back down on this.”

“You’re impossible,” she said with a sigh and walked past him into the warm summer air. By the time he joined her outside she had already pulled her long brown hair into a tight ponytail at the back of her neck thanks to a thin leather tie.

“I may be impossible, but it works for me,” he said, leaning against the wall as his long black wings began to stretch behind his back.

* * * *

“Arrogant pain in my ass,” she grumbled. “But I’m not going out there. You fly me to a Feeorin healer if you want to, but I will not have a man that is loyal to Thadius knowing about my child and that’s the end of it.”

She knew when understanding entered his dark eyes by the way he hissed. “You don’t want Faolan to know,” he whispered.

Isabelle pressed her lips together, not wanting to say the words aloud. “He has a right to know about another child of his. I know that he does.”

“But?” Zorin pressed.

She shook her head and her hands came up to press against her smooth stomach. “But he has Sebastian. And he’ll be raised in their ways. I don’t want my children to grow up like that. I gave up Sebastian in exchange for Caden’s life. I will not give up this child as well.”

“Do you really believe Faolan would take him from you?” Zorin asked, sounding surprised.

Frowning, she shrugged. “Maybe he wouldn’t. But Thadius would. I don’t doubt him in the least. And I think he’d use someone I cared about to make sure I did it. Maybe Caden again. Maybe you. I won’t give him that kind of power over me again, Zorin.”

He slowly nodded and opened his arms to her. Isabelle went easily, her hands coming around to grip his shoulders and pull him closely to her. “I won’t let anything happen to you or those that you care about,” he promised before placing a gentle kiss into her hair. “But first, you need to be seen. Your last pregnancy was rougher than it had to be. There’s no reason for this one to be as well.”