Dragons Against Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice Book 2) (11 page)

“
A
bit
more to the left, dear.”

Addie rotated atop a wobbly pedestal at her handmaiden’s prodding but kept her eyes firmly shut. It was easier to imagine not playing human pincushion this way, or that the gown being pinned all around her wasn’t of the wedding variety. It was also easier to imagine she was still back in modern times, or at her cousin’s place in the good ole US of A. Back in a realm where crazy witches didn’t exist, and she sure as heck wasn’t a princess.

But there was no going back now, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. Though long vocal about her aversion to marriage, in a few short weeks she would be walking down the aisle to pledge her life to a dragon-shifting prince. She found the prospect partially thrilling but mostly terrifying.

Her.
Married
. And into royalty, no less. Addie’s days of blending in with the scenery were coming to an end. The tugging and fluffing halted, and she heard Ellen take several soft steps back.

“Oh, Princess Adelaide. You look like an angel.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Do you not wish to see for yourself, my lady?”

Hurt and disappointment rang clear in her handmaiden’s voice, and so guilt forced Addie to crack open one eye. But the view was so shocking, so unexpected, that the second eye quickly followed suit. She stood in place, frozen with shock and awe, and watched as her reflection’s lips tugged into a slow smile.

“Oh, Ellen,” whispered Addie. “It’s…beautiful.”

“My best work, I do believe. Though ’tis the bride who truly makes the gown.”

Pale cheeks flushed a deep pink in the mirror.

“I think any woman would look beautiful in this dress. You really did an amazing job.”

Ellen threw her an unconvinced look as she bent to brush an unseen speck from the fabric. “I assure you, the kingdom has no’ seen as stunning a view since the day your mother wore this gown.”

My true mother
. Addie reached down to trace the soft fabric that flared out from below her newly fitted bodice. Had her mother done the same? Had she been as scared of marrying into a monarchy as Addie felt now? Suddenly, the weight of the fabric didn’t seem nearly as heavy.

“This dress…was my mother’s?”

“Aye. Such a beauty, she was. Both inside and out. And your father, he knew that better than anyone.”

“Tell me about them, Ellen. What were they like when they were my age?”

A mischievous grin stole across the woman’s usually reserved face. “Your father was absolutely smitten with her. He would sneak from the castle each night of their engagement and fly to her village, just to catch a glimpse of her through her bedroom casement. His father, of course, forbade the visits—not that it made a bit of difference.”

Ellen stepped forward to loosen the gown, then helped Addie slip out of it without getting impaled by the bazillion pins she had stuck all along the hem. Queen Vanora, it seemed, had been several inches taller than her daughter. Addie plunked down on her bed and watched as Ellen continued her work.

“Were they in love?”

“Oh heavens, yes. The way those two would look at one another, even months after the wedding, possessed such adoration that anyone in the room felt as if they were intruding upon an intimate moment.”

Addie tried to picture it, her father, the king, with a lovey-dovey look in his eyes. Sadly, the image wouldn’t come. He’d been ecstatic to discover his believed-dead firstborn daughter was alive. Had seemed so happy at the castle-wide celebration that followed. But the day after she chose Zayne’s world—her true world—over the one she’d grown up in, her father grew measurably more reserved. As that first week went on, she interacted with him less and less. By her second week beneath his roof, it became rare that she’d see him anywhere but the dining hall, and even that was hit or miss.

And she had absolutely no clue why.

It worried Addie that she might have said or done something to upset him. Heck, that her reappearance had caused Rosalind to go on the lam was probably reason enough. But Rosalind was bitter about Addie’s return, angry that she’d lost a chance at Edana’s crown since she’d been Zayne’s original betrothed bride; running away was on her head, no one else’s. At least, that was what Zayne kept trying to convince Addie of every time she saw him.

Not that there’d been much love to be lost between the sisters so far. Heck, the last time Addie had seen her, the woman had used her as a pawn. Still, she hated to see her father, and to a lesser extent her brother, so distraught over Rosalind’s continued absence. If it would help heal their wounds, Addie would magically summon Rosalind back herself if she could.

Then again, if she had magic like that, there would be a few other items summoned first. Like chocolate, a real bra, panties, and her favorite Levis.

Addie sighed and pushed those images from her mind yet again.
No going back…
“So, how long were my parents married before we came along?”

“You and Prince Tristan were conceived around the time of their first anniversary after months of failed attempts. Your mother, she felt terrible making the king wait so long for an heir. So when the nurse announced Vanora was not only pregnant but carrying twins, well, the entire castle burst into celebration.”

Twins. Addie tried to picture what it would be like to discover you were having not one baby but two. At the same time. Fear rippled through her. Did twins run in the family? Good God, she’d be one giant stretch mark if that happened to her. Hell, she’d be that way anyway if Zayne talked her into conceiving as many heirs as he’d like. Which, of course, he’d already mentioned. Multiple times.

Serenity now…

“The joy of her discovered pregnancy was short-lived, however,” Ellen continued, sorrow etched into her wrinkled face. “Two babes in the womb took a terrible toll on Vanora. Your father, it pained him so to watch her weaken by the day. She, of course, waved off his concerns. Said she would be fine, ’twas nothing that magic could not fix.”

“But there was no magic the night we were born.”

Ellen met Addie’s gaze. “No. The midwife trained in such magic was called away to care for a sick relative and an inexperienced apprentice left in her place. The midwife was certain she would return before your birth, but you two were intent on coming that same night…”

Sorrow for the mother lost, and guilt for being the reason, washed over her. “And my father?”

“The king was beside himself upon her death. He loved your mother more than life itself. Had there been any previous children, anyone else in the royal family to ascend to the throne, I have no doubt he would have found a way to join your mother that night. As it was, he had no choice but to remain on the throne.”

“But he shouldn’t have ordered the apprentice to be killed,” Addie whispered.

Ellen said nothing, as a wise servant should do. Still, the way her eyes shifted from Adelaide’s said more than enough.

“And his new wife?”

“Agatha, Princess Rosalind’s mother, was presented to him a short while later as a peace offering by a clan responsible for an uprising which cost many innocent lives. And as the king was lonesome, and poor Tristan without a mother to raise him, King Jarin agreed.”

This, Addie could imagine. Her father, his outlook bleak, grasping at a chance to return to some semblance of normalcy. Too bad she already knew how this piece of the story ended as well.

“They were married how long?”

“Queen Agatha fell ill with the fever when Rosalind was but five or six years old. When she died, whatever hopes your father possessed for finding further happiness died as well.”

“Did he love her?”

“As best he could, yes. Did he love her as much as he had loved your mother? No. I am afraid she took too great a part of him with her to the grave.” Ellen offered her a small smile. “I thought his face might never hold another true smile after that, but then you returned. ’Twas the first I have seen him happy in a long, long time.”

Addie frowned. “But if he’s so happy to have me back, then why is he avoiding me?”

The smile slipped from Ellen’s face. She quickly set about gathering her things, her gaze averted. “Do not selfishly mistake tending to his vast responsibilities as avoidance. Your father has much on his mind with Princess Rosalind yet missing and your wedding approaching.”

With that, she offered a small bow and exited the room, leaving Addie alone with nothing but her thoughts and her mother’s wedding gown. Which would soon be
her
wedding gown. She eyed it from a distance, hoping it wasn’t cursed. Then again, to die young would mean not having to worry about stretch marks, or living to see the day when Zayne grew tired of her.

Because that was what happened to people who got married and had kids, right? Eventually, those happily ever afters faded away to broken dreams and promises. She had witnessed as much firsthand with her parents back home and many families who’d lived around them. Though in a different realm, she doubted failings of the heart were any different here.

Broken dreams and promises. These were her reasons for resolving never to marry, and the concerns that plagued her now. Sure, Zayne said he loved her with all that he had, but did she have what it took to keep that love alive?

Nearby, the door to Tristan’s room creaked open. Addie walked toward the sound, looked out into the hall, and spied her brother entering. Eager to be free from the memories of death and despair, she crossed the hall and slipped into his room. She stopped just beyond the door and offered him a tentative smile as he glanced in her direction—it was always a crapshoot as to what mood he’d be in—but no smile was offered in return. Rather, he stalked toward a collection of scrolls he’d left earlier upon a small side table while glaring at her. A chill washed down her spine.

“Is everything all right?”

The look in his eyes grew darker still. “No.”

Her heart sank. Had they found Rosalind? Oh God, was she dead? Did he blame her for this?

Addie couldn’t stand the silence. “Did they finally find her?”

“Did you think we wouldn’t?”

“What?”

He stormed toward her until they were toe to toe. “How long had you planned to keep secrets from us, Adelaide? She could be dead by now because of him.”

Secrets?
“Who’s h—”

“No matter.” He turned to swipe his favorite bow from the corner where he kept it. “Your fiancé will lead us to her, and then we shall make examples of them all.”

“I don’t understand—what does Zayne have to do with any of this?”

“Truly you are not so simple as to believe your betrothed and his witch heritage have nothing to do with Rosalind’s disappearance.”

“Witch heritage?” Addie shook her head. Why was Tristan so upset about this all of a sudden? Hadn’t he known where Zayne’s mother’s family lived? Then again, if he hadn’t, whatever had tipped him off?

Zayne’s scroll.

Addie sucked in a sharp breath. “Tristan, what did you do?”

“What you should have done from the start. I took the scroll Zayne drafted for you to Father.”

“You looked through my
things
?”

“You have no possessions, sister. Everything you believe to be yours belongs first to the king.”

“That’s not fair! I don’t go digging through your things. Damn it!” Fury rose so swiftly in her chest, she nearly took a swing at him. But movement outside his window caught her gaze. Warriors, hundreds of them, were beginning to assemble. “What’s going on?”

He brushed past her without answer and headed for the hall. Addie dashed after him, panic welling inside her chest.

“Tristan, listen to me. You don’t understand. Zayne and his family have nothing to do with this.”

“I shall listen to no more of his lies.” He spun to face her as two guards appeared out of nowhere, one on either side of him. “And neither shall you.”

“What do you—” The guards stepped forward to grasp her arms. “Hey, let me go! Tristan?”

He refused to meet her gaze, looking instead to the guards. “Return my sister to her chamber, where she is to remain until further notice by order of the king.”

Tristan turned and walked away without so much as another glance back. Rage turned Addie’s vision red. She tried to wriggle free of the guards, twisting and turning as best she could, but their grip on her remained ironclad.

“Let. Me. Go.” She stomped on one guard’s foot and kicked at the other, but they wouldn’t budge. Addie shifted her attention back down the hall and yelled toward her retreating brother, “Come back here, you coward!”

Tristan kept walking without a break in his stride.

“He’s innocent! Tristan, you have to believe me!”

He rounded the corner, ignoring her cries. The big lugs restraining her dragged her kicking and cursing back to her room and released her with a not so gentle shove, then withdrew to the hall. Not until she heard the heavy latch outside her door slide into place did her anger transform into fear.

They were going to track down Zayne, use him to find the witches, and then make an example of him.

And she was powerless to stop them.