Dragons Against Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice Book 2) (12 page)

* * *

T
ristan strode
toward the back staircase, all the while telling himself he’d done the right thing. That aiding in Zayne’s capture had not just been following his father’s orders, but was also entirely necessary. Sure, she was furious with him now, but if Adelaide were as wise as he believed, she would come to see soon enough that the man she believed innocent was truly a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

And a skilled spy who would stop at nothing to undermine Tristan’s entire family.

Addie…

Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose. The image of Zayne falling to his knees and calling out Addie’s name haunted him still. Tristan would have thought the act a ruse if the blow he’d just delivered had not been so great. But to call her name in the midst of so much pain…

“Your Highness!”

Tristan turned in the direction of the servant boy now hurrying toward him.

“A scroll arrived for Prince Zayne. Has he gone?”

“I am uncertain as to his current whereabouts, Timothy, but give me the scroll and I shall see that he receives it.”

“Yes, sire.”

He handed over the parchment, bowed, then hurried off. Tristan pocketed the scroll and continued on to the back staircase, away from the noise of castle life both inside and out. But the silence only amplified his growing spark of guilt. What if Zayne truly loved Adelaide? And what if Zayne was, in fact, innocent as his sister claimed?

No. He withdrew the scroll and tore it open with a growl. This was not the time to be plagued by regret, but rather the time to act. To strike, to—

…
m
y sister warns
that dark times are coming, my son. Return home, I beg of you. Before those within King Jarin’s own house seek in earnest his demise. Bring Adelaide if you must, but I implore of you, dearest son, return home this day
…

T
ristan’s jaw fell slack
. Dark times? Whatever did the witch clan have in store for them? And who the bloody hell from his own family might be plotting against them?

“It is done, Your Highness.”

Tristan spun with a gasp. “Blackstone. I…did not hear you approach.”

“Have you received word from Rosalind, sire?”

Rosalind. Oh dear God, could that be to whom Queen Helena referred? A bone-deep chill ran through his body as Tristan followed Quinn’s gaze to the scroll fisted in his other hand.

“No, but…” He looked to his friend, the man he trusted above all others. “If I allow you to read this, do you swear to me you shall speak of it to no one?”

“Of course, sire.”

“Swear to me, Quinn. Not as your prince, but as your closest friend.”

Quinn met his gaze, his own taking on a dim red glow. “I swear to you, my friend. To the death.”

“Very well.”

Tristan handed over the parchment and watched Quinn’s face for a reaction. His eyes narrowed at first, then widened. Flashed to Tristan’s and back to the scroll.

“Do you believe the warning to be true?” asked Quinn.

“Aye. Queen Helena is an upright woman and highly respected—I see no reason to doubt her words. And as I have read scrolls sent by her in the past, I can say with utter confidence that this is indeed the queen’s handwriting.”

Quinn grimaced. “And the one it spoke of, the person within this very house who seeks your father’s demise?”

“The number in our family is four. As neither myself nor the king are conspiring against the crown, that leaves only Rosalind and Adelaide. Adelaide has nothing to gain by killing our father, but rather stands on the cusp of attaining her own kingdom through matrimony with Prince Zayne. But Rosalind…”

“Stands to gain no crown of her own, not while both you and Adelaide live.”

Tristan ran a hand through his hair, now damp with sweat. “Surely, she would not—”

“She longs to rule, sire. Craves the power which only ascension to a throne might bring.” Quinn cursed beneath his breath and began to pace before him.

“You fear she has become an ally of the witches? That she seeks to destroy us all?”

“I know not her plans, but if she has become an ally of the witches, none of us will be safe until either we steal her back or win the oncoming battle.” Quinn came to stand before him. “We cannot allow this battle to ensue, Your Highness.”

Tristan nodded. “Agreed. If she helps lead an attack on Forath Castle, we would have no choice but to defend ourselves. And in doing so, we might well harm my sister. Though if we could implore the wizard to whisk her away before the first shots have been fired, we—”

Quinn reached to grab Tristan’s shoulders. “There must be no war. While I have pledged to protect your family, there is another family to which I am also duty bound to protect: my own.”

“But, Blackstone—your family is dead and gone.”

“Or so I was led to believe.” Quinn dropped his arms and took a step back, his head bowed. “There are secrets I have hidden from you, Your Highness. Secrets I am no longer able to keep…”

A
s the sun
dipped to kiss the horizon, Rosalind set off toward the stream at the village’s edge. The air hung heavy with the smell of herbs growing in a nearby garden. She cast her gaze skyward and watched as thick clouds crept in from the west. It would rain before daybreak—the only certainty Rosalind had of how this night would pass.

According to Ella, who, with her gift of thought hearing, was also privy to Rosalind’s assignment, Jaxon had been seen only moments before headed in that direction. To bathe, no doubt, which was entirely unfortunate for Rosalind. How was she to use words as sufficient distraction to the prince when she might well find him naked? For as fine a specimen as he was with clothes on, to see him without might cause her to come undone in more ways than one.

What she did not expect to find as she came to the edge of the forest, however, was Jaxon with another woman, both naked and in the water. And, as he stood now with her long, straw-colored hair in his hands and pressing kisses to her neck, it was quite clear they were not there to bathe. Rosalind, an intruder on their moment of intimacy and filled with an unexpected ire, turned to go.

“Join us, if you like.”

She froze. Ventured a glance back. Jaxon had straightened to his full height, his russet gaze fixed upon Rosalind. The woman with Jaxon was curled into his chest, a playful grin on her face.

Like hell I will
. Rosalind lifted her chin. “I require no bath.”

“Then why have you come to the water’s edge?”

“I only wished to continue our conversation of strategy from this afternoon.” Her gaze shifted from him to the wench in his grip and back. “In private.”

Jaxon studied her for a moment, one brow arched. Then he stepped away from the stranger beside him and offered her a dismissive smack on the rump. “Be gone with you now.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The woman offered him a coy smile, then dipped into a small curtsy before exiting the water. Rosalind averted her eyes to offer the woman a moment of privacy. Though the way the young one trotted by yet wet and naked into the woods, it was clear she needed no such thing.

“Might you fetch me my robe?”

Rosalind looked back toward the water in surprise. Jaxon had not moved from where she’d last seen him. “Pardon?”

“It would be difficult to speak with me in private if I am in the water and you upon shore. So unless you intend to get wet…”

She did not appreciate the teasing tone to his voice. With a frown, Rosalind stalked to the water’s edge and lifted the heavy cloth he had left there. She held it out at arm’s length and again averted her gaze, silent fury pulsing through her. Giselle had said nothing of her son’s plans to be with another woman this night. To interrupt their amorous play made Rosalind feel…

“Jealous?”

“I beg your pardon?” She looked to the water, just as Jaxon’s midriff came into view. The fine spread of russet hair upon his chest appeared thicker the lower it reached, as if taunting her gaze to remain as he drew higher out of the water. Instead, she looked away again, her frown deepening.
Insolent beast.

“I am clean and sated, and ye…” His footsteps crunched the dry ground toward her. “Appear hot and bothered.”

“I am nothing of the sort.” She tossed the robe forward, her gaze still averted. “I am focused upon our upcoming attack, while you waste the day away pleasuring yourself.”

A damp hand gripped her chin, angling her face toward his. “Is to seek pleasure a crime?”

Rosalind glared up at him, her pulse drumming like thunder in her ears, infuriating her further. What was it about this man, about his deep melodic timbre, that called to her on such an animalistic level? She found herself wanting to be one with him, ensnared in his strong arms, his length buried deep inside her. A low growl rose to her lips.

“It is if it be with the wrong person.”

Jaxon’s russet gaze began to glow. “And are ye bound to another?”

“I am not the topic of this conversation.”

“No?” He lifted her chin higher and drew closer, his warm breath washing over her face. “I ask ye again, Princess. Are ye bound to another?”

“No.” She hated the breathless sound to her answer. Hated even more how the glow in his gaze intensified. “But never would I bind with a man yet intent on sowing his wild oats.”

Jaxon’s gaze narrowed. He released her chin and took a step back, his gaze dark. “Ye do not understand our ways.”

“Quite true.” She crossed her arms. “Nor do I desire to do so. My time here is short.”

“Ah, yes. Ye who wishes to steal back the heart of her former betrothed. And why is that, exactly?”

Rosalind glared at him. “I seek to rule. My sister does not.”

“Does his heart get no say in the matter?”

“Feelings do not bring power.”

“Ah, but ye are wrong.” He placed a fist over his heart. “Here. This is where the passion to rule lies. If a ruler is dead here, they can no’ be a strong leader.”

Jaxon reached for her then. Drew her close and bent to place his ear upon her heart. An unwanted thrill raced through Rosalind’s veins. She squirmed beneath his grasp, but it was as useless as trying to break free from shackles.

“Ah, see? Ye are no’ dead inside after all.” He lifted his face from her chest and met her gaze. “Ye may yet possess the passion required of a true leader.”

Again she squirmed in his grasp, longing to put distance between them and yet wanting to close it at the same time. “I came. To speak. Strategy.”

“Aye.” Jaxon stood and released her with a grin. “And we have.”

He turned and started for the forest.

“But wait! Where are you going?”

“To Forath.” He paused and looked back at her, a teasing glint in his eye. “Did ye no’ wish to accompany me as I look once more for weakness in your father’s defenses?”

Finally, something he said made sense. “Indeed.”

Rosalind followed Jaxon back to his home and waited outside for the man to dress. He stepped out several moments later, dressed head to toe in dark garb.

“If you wish to accompany me, though, ye shall no’ go dressed like that.” He held out a set of folded clothing. “From Ella. She wishes to keep your gown intact.”

“But how did she— Oh, never mind.”

With a low growl, she stalked past him and pulled the door shut behind her. Nothing about the witches’ ways made any sense. None of it, save everyone’s common hatred for her father. And so she focused upon that commonality, lest she do something much less wise.

Like consider listening to her traitorous, racing heart.

Z
ayne awoke
to the sound of water dripping in heavy splats onto the ground somewhere to his right. Pain stabbed his body from head to toe, and the damp, stale air around him was cold to the point of nearly paralyzing. As the fog of confusion began to clear from his thoughts, his freshest memories came to light. The squire’s message. Adelaide’s frustrations at the announcement of his forthcoming departure. His walk to the clearing.

Tristan.

A growl bubbled in his chest. Damn Addie’s family all to hell. They’d set a trap, and Zayne had walked right into it. He’d been wrong not to follow his own father’s distrust for the Bennett family, shouldn’t have trusted either Jarin or his son. A royal marriage between the two kingdoms alone would nary bring peace to their lands, he could see that now. Though, if he didn’t find a way out of wherever he was, the cold might well kill him before he had a chance to bond with his betrothed.

And he refused to let that happen.

He struggled to sit up and assess his surroundings, but soon found that a blindfold masked his vision and shackles of the coldest metal affixed to his wrists and ankles limited movement. He pulled his arms before him, testing both the distance of slack in the chains and their strength. Neither gave him much hope for an easy escape.

“Save your strength, dragon. No beast of fire has yet escaped these strongholds.”

Jarin
. Zayne turned his head toward the voice. “Why the chains, Your Majesty? Worried lest I attempt retreat from a second betrothal?”

A blast of frigid air struck his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs.

“You think this a joke, young Godfrey?”

A second blast struck him, this time the cold like fire against his bare chest. Zayne clenched his teeth to keep from crying out.

“My younger daughter is missing. Captured by your flesh and blood.”

“Not true.”

Another blast. Zayne felt darkness threaten once again.

“But it is. We found the scroll, your very script indicating as much.” Jarin stepped closer and grabbed Zayne by the chin, his grip like the coldest of irons. “Do not play me the fool, boy. Your mother’s family is behind this. And if you ever wish to see Princess Adelaide again, you will take me to them so that I may destroy what’s left of those wretched people once and for all.”

Jarin released Zayne’s jaw with a forceful thrust, slamming his face into the wall he was chained to. As he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness, Zayne pictured the face of his sweet Adelaide and silently vowed to do whatever necessary to see her again, so that he might rescue her from the evil tyrant who was her father. He tried to right himself, but his body refused to comply.

“I suggest you save your strength. We fly tomorrow.”

Zayne was vaguely aware of Jarin’s retreating footsteps, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut and being bolted into place. Alone once again, he slumped to the floor and whispered the name of his one true love.

“Adelaide.”

Darkness washed over him once more.

* * *

B
y dark
, Addie was crawling the walls. She’d looked in every nook and cranny of her chambers for a way out, but each time came up empty. And with the castle walls as smooth as they were, there was no climbing down from this high. Or climbing up.

Damn it
. If only she could fly. Or had another one of Berinon’s handy magic portals.

And where was Berinon, anyway? It’d been nearly a week since she’d seen him now. Was he done keeping tabs on her? His duties of retrieval were complete, and so he’d washed his hands clean?

She crossed the room and withdrew a black Adidas shoebox from its hiding place behind her bed. Inside was her secret stash of modern possessions—things Berinon had graciously retrieved upon Addie’s request after her first full day in the castle. She lifted the item atop all others—the digital watch that had first tipped her off that the wizard knew more about her world than he’d led them to believe—and traced its smooth face. How often did he go across the portal? she wondered. Hell, maybe he was in her world now. Too bad he hadn’t thought to give her a way to summon him in times of need.

Then again, he had said if she ever needed anything to just ask. She shifted her gaze to the nearest window and watched the breeze gently lift and lower its thin drapes. Had the answer been here the entire time?

Addie returned the watch to her collection and tucked the box behind her bed once more, then hurried to the window and pulled the drapes aside. The muggy night sky was black as pitch, clouds blocking both moon and stars. If she had a way down, tonight would be perfect for an unnoticed escape.

“Psst,” she said in a harsh whisper. “Berinon.”

Silence.

“Berinon, can you hear me? I need your help.”

An owl hooted in the distance.

“Ber, old buddy, old pal?”

Nothing.

Addie ran a hand through her hair. If she spoke any louder, the guards below would surely hear. Or her brother or father. What she really needed was a flare gun. Or Gotham City’s bat signal.

That was it! Maybe she could find something shiny, something reflective that could serve as a beacon to get his attention. She turned from the window and scanned the room, looking for anything that might work. Before she took a single step, though, a gust of wind blew in from behind her.

He heard me.
Relief washed over Addie. She turned to face him and worked to keep her voice low. “Thank goodness you’re—”

Her words were cut off as a long black tail coiled around her like a python, then pulled her toward the window…and right on out. Constricted as she was, the scream in her chest had no room to build. Terrified, Adelaide was helpless to do anything but watch as her giant beastly captor shot into the air and away from the castle.