Dragons Against Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice Book 2) (19 page)

R
osalind poked
at the remains of her dinner while doing her best to avoid Giselle’s curious gaze. As princess in Forath, she never felt guilty about her sexual forays. Sitting in the presence of her lover’s mother, however, made her feel quite uncomfortable indeed. Though much of her anxiety was born of the knowledge that, following their meal, she would beg Giselle to forgo the siege of Forath and instead seek a peace treaty by way of betrothals.

And Rosalind was not one to beg.

She cast a glance at Jaxon, handsome as ever sitting across from her. He flashed her a devilish grin, unashamed at being caught staring. Rosalind offered him as best a smile as she could manage in return, but anxiety seemed to weigh down her very lips.

What if the queen said no? What would she do, then?

“A wonderful meal, would you agree?” asked Giselle.

“Indeed.” Rosalind offered the woman a smile and wished she’d been able to speak with Jaxon before dinner. Though he himself admitted their future together would remove the need for future bloodshed so that she might claim a throne, the man had said nothing throughout the meal to imply an upcoming battle with Forath was unnecessary. Which left Rosalind to broach a subject she was unfamiliar with:

The subject of retreat.

“Your Majesty, I wish to discuss—”

“Hush, child. Let us not postulate battle plans with food yet before us, but adjourn to the parlor where we can sit in comfort. Jaxon?”

“Yes, Mother?”

“Would you be so kind as to escort us there?”

“It would be my pleasure.” He stood, came around to assist his mother, then led her to where Rosalind remained seated. With another devilishly handsome grin, he offered her his arm.

An unexpected worry niggled at her, but she brushed the feeling aside and took the arm offered as she rose from her seat. Jaxon was her true mate; she sensed it still with every bit of her being. He would protect and support her. There lived no man, no beast, with whom she was a better match.

The trio paused at the dining chamber’s large wooden door to allow servants time to open it. But as a young boy stepped forward to do so, Jaxon waved him off and slipped momentarily free of his charges to draw it open himself. The dimly lit hall Rosalind had traveled to reach their meal came into view. Oil sconces hung evenly spaced on the walls, flickering in the air stirred by their approach.

“Would you care to view a few of the rooms I chose to transform while you were gone?”

“More redecorating?” Jaxon raised a brow at his mother.

Giselle patted his arm with a smile. “You know how I love a change of scenery.”

“Aye, though it is rare to see you do so outside the central parlor.”

“Indeed,” she said. “Just as it is rare for a dragon to find his one true mate.”

Rosalind nodded but remained mute. The inexplicable worry that had begun at the table now grew, bringing with it a stabbing pain in her temples. The air around them smelled odd—bitter, metallic—and soured her stomach. She forced another smile upon her face and tried to focus on taking deep, soothing breaths lest she grow more ill.

Upon the queen’s instructions, they stopped through the first door on their right. Jaxon drew it open and ushered the women inside. A few steps farther, Rosalind came to a halt and stared in frozen amazement at the scene before them. Gone was the limited space of whatever interior room they had ventured into, replaced by a broad swatch of beach. Its sands glowed nearly white beneath a full moon, while ebony waters lapped at its shore. A strange scent tickled her nose, one of salt and sea and other scents the likes of which she was unfamiliar.

“Do you like it?” asked the queen, pride glistening in her eyes.

“Aye.” Rosalind shivered as a breeze blew in off the water, and Jaxon pulled her into his side.

“’Tis nothing like the scenes you have chosen before, my queen,” he said.

She cupped his cheek. “The water can be a place of both cleansing and beauty, can it not?”

A light came into view just above the water’s surface, suspended like the moon beginning its nightly ascent yet creeping no higher. As Rosalind squinted out into the darkness, the light seemed to grow in size. A fire dragon, perhaps? No, the light was too pale, its shape circular, not a stream of flame. She raised a hand to point it out to the others, but the queen claimed the hand in hers.

“Come,” Giselle said. “If you enjoy this view, you shall love the next even more, for I designed it especially for you.”

She led Rosalind back toward the hall, either unbothered by the strange light or unaware of its presence. Rosalind cast a glance over her shoulder to spy the sight one last time, but Jaxon’s broad chest now blocked her view. She decided to inquire of its source later, lest she spoil the queen’s good mood.

They exited the room and soon stood before the next door along the inner hall. Again, Jaxon drew it open and led the women inside. And just as the first room appeared to be under a spell of enchantment, so too did this space. Rather than possess an endless sea, however, this second illusion was that of a grassy knoll beside what appeared to be a long-forgotten castle. Moss and vines covered much of its aging walls, dark against the gray stone in a moonlit sky. The castle’s interior was dark, the only discernable sound that of the rustling grass beneath the night’s gentle breeze.

“What is this place?” Rosalind asked, spellbound by the magnificent structure.

“A gift for my son and his future bride. It shall soon become your manor home. Does it please you, Princess?”

“Aye. ’Tis magnificent, Your Majesty.” No longer was the smile upon Rosalind’s lips forced, nor did she care that this was all a grand illusion. If remaining here with the witches allowed her to live a long, full life with Jaxon at her side, she would soon grow to know contentment. She took a step forward, eager to explore.

“Ah, ah, ah,” said the queen. “No peeking. I do not wish to reveal all my surprises just yet. Let us continue on—I have a surprise waiting in the next room as well.”

Rosalind studied the fortress in silent appreciation a moment longer, then turned to follow the others back into the hall. But again a movement in the night sky caught her attention. This time, a red star far above the horizon. As she watched, it blinked. Her pace slowed so as to study the light, which seemed to move unassisted along the night sky, blinking out of sight every few heartbeats.

“Whatever star might that be?” she breathed.

“Rosa.”

She turned her gaze back to Jaxon with a start and, seeing a look of mild impatience upon his handsome face, hurried to join him at the door. Once there, she paused and cast one last glance to where she’d last seen the unusual star.

It was gone.

A
ddie hurried
to keep up with her longer-legged companions and said a quick prayer of thanks that her energy had finally returned.

Hell, returned nothing—it’d tripled. Or quadrupled. Or—

Zayne extended an arm across her path, drawing her to a halt. Their group had gone silent, all eyes directed toward movement in the woods a short distance ahead of them. A flash of emerald green caught her eye, and she took a gamble.

“Ber.”

A face turned back in their direction, pale in the moonlight above a long, full beard. Several other faces now turned in their direction, and she could feel a wave of relief wash over Zayne.

Wait. She could feel what Zayne was feeling?

“Mother.” Her fiancé hurried forward to embrace one of the shadowed figures, whose dark hood slid free from her head. Queen Helena’s long braided hair came into view.

“Zayne. Oh, my son.”

Addie and the others hurried forward and stopped before the mini family reunion. All except Haelan, who moved at a slower pace, his eyes aglow and focused on Berinon. Addie shot Berinon a dark look as well. “Where have you been? I needed you.”

“Contrary to whatever you have grown accustomed to believe, I have duties that extend beyond answering to your every beck and call, Princess Adelaide.”

“My every beck and call.” She rolled her eyes. “Pfft. Honey, I’m about as low maintenance as they come.”

“Shh!”

Everyone froze at Tristan’s voice. Up ahead, footsteps crunched through twigs and bramble. A snap of fingers sounded to her right, and the footsteps ceased.

“As you were saying?” Berinon asked, turning from the sound.

“I called for you last night, but you didn’t come. My father—he totally wigged out. Locked Zayne up and tortured him.”

Helena gasped and reached for her son’s cheek. “Are you all right?”

“Aye. Haelan assisted with my healing.” He turned and met Addie’s gaze. “And Princess Adelaide.”

Addie couldn’t help but notice the speed at which Berinon’s head snapped in her direction. He studied her for a long moment, eyes narrowed, and Tristan stepped closer to her. An act that, though her twin could likely do very little to protect her if the wizard was up to anything devious, she found rather sweet.

“Giselle is up to no good, I fear,” said the queen. “She tricked Berinon with her illusions, causing him to believe she was me last night.”

“But why?” Zayne asked.

“I shall explain later. For now, we must go, as the time is nigh.”

“Nigh?” Addie shook her head. “Nigh for what?”

It was Haelan who spoke next, his gaze focused on the path ahead. “For us to teach the meddlesome witches it is unwise to dabble in the magic of wizards.”

* * *

Z
ayne ran
toward the center of Weston flanked by Brom and Quinn, with Adelaide tucked safely amid the three men. Around them was a band of Edana’s most trusted warriors, who had accompanied his mother and Berinon on their quest to stop Giselle from performing whatever spell she had tricked the wizard into sharing with her the night before. How she had tricked him, Zayne did not care to know. Especially upon hearing that Giselle had used illusion to make Berinon believe she was Helena.

He had always suspected a closeness that extended beyond mere duty between his mother and the high wizard, but had never been given reason to believe it was anything other than his overactive imagination. Now he had little doubt as to Berinon’s feelings toward the queen. What was left to be seen was if she held similar feelings toward him. Feelings that, if they truly mirrored the wizard’s and she chose to act upon them, could put both her marriage and her life at risk.

A rush of protectiveness flared within him. No matter her choices, Zayne would see that his mother remain safe from harm. His father had been a difficult husband, cruel to her at times. But to fall for Berinon?

He cast a glance toward his kingdom’s high wizard, whose green eyes glowed with a fury Zayne had not witnessed before, and knew his mother would be safe in his protection until the end of her days. Still, his were not the arms she had been bound or married to, and he doubted she would break the trust of her subjects to leave King Robert’s side. Unless…

“Halt! Who goes there?”

Zayne looked toward the sound. Ahead stood the village square, a formerly grand manor house just beyond. A motley crew of armored men stood guard before it.

Zayne’s group slowed to a walk but continued forward, causing Giselle’s men to draw their swords.

“We must speak with your queen,” called his mother. “Step aside and we shall not—” Flashes of lightning shot forth, knocking the guards off their feet in quick succession. “—harm you.”

Helena cast a look of impatience at Haelan, whose hands were extended toward the downed men. The wizard shrugged as he passed her by. Berinon scowled at his rival but took Helena by the hand and urged her forward.

“Not a lot of love shared between those two, is there?” Addie whispered beside him.

“The wizards? No. Though neither king has given the other much reason.”

“Good point. Do you think she’s really in there?”

“Rosalind?” Zayne turned to meet her gaze as they came upon the manor home’s front entrance.

Addie nodded. “Because if she’s not and we try to return home empty-handed…”

Haelan raised a hand to silence them, then stepped forward and placed his palm on the door’s rough-hewn wood. “I sense her not.” He turned to throw an appraising look at the other wizard. “It seems you are not the only one who has been playing with the darkest of magics.”

“We can discuss the matter later,” Berinon replied with a growl. “The one you seek is indeed through that door.”

“But shall we perish if we follow?” asked Haelan.

“Would someone like to tell us what the hell is going on?”

Zayne felt his chest swell with pride at the commanding tone in his betrothed’s voice.

“There is no time,” said Berinon as he reached for the door. “If you wish to save your sister—”

“Stop,” bellowed a deep voice from behind them. “Or so help me, I shall kill her.”

Zayne spun to see King Jarin flanked by a small army of swordsmen and archers, each with their weapons drawn. The king had one hand wrapped tightly around the sword he’d nearly used to take Zayne’s hand only weeks before. His other arm, however, was wrapped tightly around something else entirely.

The neck of a woman.

* * *

“
E
lla
!”

Tristan flinched from the half cry, half scream of Queen Helena, who stood quaking to his left.

“Robert warned me of this when he offered me passage to Weston,” his father spat. “You, aligning with the wizards to ensure no one could save my daughter.”

“Robert?”

The question in her voice spoke volumes. Clearly, Helena had not a clue that her own husband had been conspiring against her. Though, as she was here without him, so had she been conspiring against him.

“Your days as his queen are numbered, Helena. As are those with your head yet upon your shoulders.”

“Threaten not my mother, vile king.”

Rather than flinch from Zayne’s thunderous roar, Tristan watched in horror as a maniacal grin stretched wide across his father’s face. What had happened for him to act in such a way? His captive tugged at his arm, trying to wiggle free from his unfaltering hold.

“Father, please. Let the woman go. Rosalind is yet within our grasp if only we can work together to enter this place and save her.”

“Fallen under their spell too, have you, boy?” His father turned a venomous gaze upon him. “Always were the weak one of the family. So eager to please. Alas, there will be no pleasing me tonight, not after going behind my back to free
my
prisoner and stealing
my
first daughter.”

The woman his father held squeaked, his arm now far too snug against her throat. And in that moment, a feeling came upon Tristan he’d never experienced before. A commanding voice from deep within demanding he act. Demanding he rescue the fair maiden. Demanding he stand up to his father.

To that voice, he was helpless to refuse.

With a roar, Tristan charged forward, the wind whipping and whirling around him. He cared not about his father’s men, eyes wide with indecision as they stood their ground, nor the repercussions that would fall upon him for this traitorous act. In the last moment before beast took control of man, he turned and yelled to Quinn, “I’ll hold them off. Now
go
!”