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

“Well, that sucks.”

Muffled voices sounded in the hall outside the parlor. Addie clamped a hand over her mouth and shot a glance at the room’s closed door.

“Thank you, Mary. I had forgotten how bloody heavy this gown could be.”

“Aye, but the girl will be stunning in it, just as her mother was before her. Shall we put it in here, then?”

Addie scanned the room for something to hide behind, but the furniture was mostly low-backed items and side tables. Nothing that would sufficiently hide her or this ridiculous, poufy gown. She eyed the dozen or so steps between her and the tapestry. Could she make it there in time?

A rattle sounded at the door, spurring her into action. In a flash, she crossed the room and slipped beneath the enormous artwork. Safe on its reverse side, she paused to listen for any indication the others knew of her presence.

“…can be hung in here for now. I plan to have her try it on tomorrow, to ensure we have enough time to alter it before the wedding.”

Ah, now Addie recognized the voice. It was Ellen, her handmaiden. The other woman must be Mary, who also assisted with the royals throughout the day.

“Do you believe a wedding shall actually take place this time?” asked Mary.

“Aye. Unless you know of any other missing princesses who might come walking out of the forest to claim Prince Zayne’s attention.”

The women shared a chuckle at her betrothed’s expense. Addie scowled at them from her hiding place.

“Oh dear. It appears His Majesty has been reading again.”

The book
. Addie thumped a silent palm to her forehead. She hadn’t thought to replace it.

“A waste of time, if you ask me,” said Ellen. “Stories are all they are, not a scrap of truth to any of them.”

“Do not allow the king to hear you speak such blasphemy of the prophecies.”

“’Tis a good thing he cannot read my mind, then.”

More chuckling ensued as the women drifted off. The door in the parlor swung closed once more, leaving Addie to chew on this new tidbit of gossip. What she’d read wasn’t just a legend but…a prophecy?

A large shadow blotted out the sun from the high windows overhead then, and a familiar double screech rang out.

“Zayne,” she breathed, and took off at a sprint back down the tunnel, out of Tristan’s room, and made a beeline for the back staircase. Finally, he’d been granted some free time. If she hurried, she might yet catch a glimpse of the magnificent golden dragon before he transformed. But it was his ever-handsome human form she longed to see most of all. Addie pushed thoughts of the supposed prophecy aside, eager to spend an afternoon alone with the man she loved most.

* * *

Z
ayne dressed in haste
, then turned to cast an impatient look at his most trusted warrior. Why ever did it take Brom so long to transform and dress these days? If Zayne didn’t know better, he’d think the man was doing so to intentionally delay Zayne’s reuniting with Adelaide. And why not? His father had no trouble doing so these past few weeks. Which was unfortunate to those around him, for the longer he was apart from his beautiful fiancée, the more anxious Zayne became and the shorter his patience grew.

“Shall we bring one of the queen’s handmaids along next trip to assist you with your garb?”

Brom waved him off and worked to secure his trousers. “Bah, your mate will no’ vanish in the time it takes me to dress.”

More words were muttered, something about distraction by females being to blame for the downfall of every great leader, but Zayne stalked off without waiting for him to finish. If his companion wanted to grumble, he could do so alone. Zayne needed to see Adelaide with his own eyes. To know she was safe, to feel the comfort of her cool skin against his.

He wove through the forest and angled for the rear entrance to King Jarin’s stables. Not the customary door a visiting noble would approach, yet fully intentional. For if Addie had heard his call, she would be inside those doors, ready to make a hasty escape for a brief amorous foray before the rest of the castle became aware of his presence.

A foray he so badly needed after the week he’d had.

“
Adelaide
, you promised.”

Tristan’s muffled dismay rang out as Zayne drew near the grand wooden structure, dashing his hopes for an unobserved exit. He eased the stable door open and slipped silently inside. The scent of dust and clover met him, and a nearby horse issued a soft snort in greeting. The twins, however, noticed him not. Addie remained with her back to him several paces off, a fistful of pale blue skirt in each hand.

“I know I did,” she said. “But that was before I was stuck inside for three days straight. Three
days
, Tristan. Besides, he said it wasn’t safe for
me
to venture from the castle alone. He didn’t say anything about me not getting to fly with Zayne.”

Her do-gooder twin—so alike in coloring and features to his sister that if he were to don a dress and grow out his hair, Tristan might well be mistaken for Addie—threw her a scathing look. “A promise is a promise. If Father learns of your disobedience, he may well throw you in the dungeon for safekeeping.”

Zayne crept closer along the shadows and bit back a growl. It was insensitive for Tristan to mention the dungeon, a place Addie had been prisoner in only a short time ago. But that was before the others knew of her true identity, before any of them did—Addie included. The dungeon was where her half sister should be now as punishment for the plotting she’d done against Adelaide. Perhaps that was why Rosalind had vanished the night of Addie’s rescue—because she knew better than most what her punishment might well be.

“He wouldn’t.” Addie’s voice wavered for but a moment before conviction filled it once more. “And besides, he won’t know because I’m not going to tell him. And neither are you.”

“Oh?” Tristan crossed his arms. “And why is that?”

“You keep telling me to trust you, that I can ask you anything. Well, now’s your chance to prove it.
Please
don’t tell on me. I promise we’ll be back in no time.”

Indecision flickered in his crystalline gaze. “An unfair request, sister. True, I have asked for your trust and done my utmost to earn it from you these past few weeks. But this is a blatant disregard of the king’s edict.”

“Only if we get caught.”

“And how do I know we, or rather
you
, shall not?”

“Because.” Zayne stepped out from the shadows and snaked a possessive hand around his betrothed’s waist. “Princess Adelaide will be under my protection.”

“Zayne.”

Her lavender-and-honey scent flooded his senses as he drew her close, easing the former worry from his mind. Three days had been far too long to be away from her, and he was determined to keep their future times apart to much shorter intervals. A simple task, if only his father would cease sending him on menial errands in his stead.

Tristan offered his sister a look of reproach. “Not only do you plan to break the rules, but you have already convinced your fiancé to break them as well?”

“I’m not breaking any rules. Just…bending them a little.”

“Do not try to justify your actions, Adelaide. Words alone can do little to erase your guilt.”

“Nor does tattling on your sister erase feelings of envy,” said Zayne.

Tristan balked. “I feel no such thing.”

“Excellent.” Zayne gave Addie a subtle tug toward the door. “Then join us.”

“Join you?”

Addie turned away from her twin to throw Zayne a confused look, to which he offered a subtle wink.

“Aye. How long has it been since you stretched your wings, went on a leisurely flight?”

Tristan bristled. “I am unfamiliar with your customs in Edana, Prince Zayne, but here in Forath, those responsible for protecting our kingdom have little time for leisure.”

“A pity, that.”

“How so?”

Zayne bent to press a kiss upon his betrothed’s hair. Its silken strands tickled his chin, and her scent washed over him anew. His enjoyment in the continued battle of wits with her prick of a brother waned and was replaced by the desire for a new activity. One that involved himself, Adelaide, and far less clothing.

As if reading his mind, she shifted against him, teasing his length. Had they been alone, the temptation to take her now, here in the stables, might have been too great to resist. The thought of her naked body stretched out willingly beneath him spurred Zayne to cease his battle of words and hasten their retreat.

“Because to fly often is not only good for the soul, but also serves to strengthen your wings and keep your battle skills keen.”

“Of course. But as Adelaide cannot fly, she need not join you. It is her studies that should be my sister’s primary focus prior to your upcoming wedding.”

“Then I shall tutor her on your family’s lineage while we are away, as I am well versed in the subject.” He leaned down farther, pressing a kiss to the hollow beneath her ear. She shivered in his arms as he murmured, “A few hours is all it should take.”

“It won’t take anywhere near that long,” Addie whispered.

Her breathy, musical voice spoke to the beast within. Three days was all that had passed since he’d seen her last, yet it seemed an eternity. His bed had felt empty, her soft skin achingly absent alongside his. Zayne took several more steps toward the door, guiding her with him. Tristan, however, continued to follow.

"I have every confidence in your tutoring skills, Prince Zayne, but my father issued strict orders that Princess Adelaide shall not leave the grounds unaccompanied."

Addie tensed in Zayne’s arms. Of course a decree limiting her travels would create such a reaction in his free-spirited nymph. When they first met a few short weeks ago, she had been traveling alone. To now be restricted by King Jarin’s rules was undoubtedly difficult for her.

Ah, but he had ways to help ease her mind from these anxieties. Ways his body craved as much as the next breath. “An understandable decree, and one I pledge to uphold as her royal escort.”

“That is Blackstone’s assignment,” Tristan said. “Not yours.”

“Please, Tristan,” said Addie.

“Is Blackstone no longer your personal guard, then, my lord?” asked Zayne.

Tristan’s eyes narrowed and remained fixed upon him, ignoring his sister’s plea. “He has been assigned to protect the royal family, Adelaide included.”

“A difficult task when the prince and princess are in different locations, is it not?”

“Indeed. But as we are both here at the present, I feel he is quite capable of offering protection to us both.”

“I have no doubt in his abilities.” Zayne gripped Adelaide tighter with one hand and shoved the stable’s rear door wide with his other. “Unfortunately for you, the present has now passed.”

As he summoned his transformation, the air around them began to whip and swirl, masking their escape in a cloud of dust and straw. The beast within wasn’t to be denied, and not a soul in Forath Castle could stop them. In an instant, they were airborne, Adelaide safe and secure in his taloned grasp.

P
rincess Rosalind wove
through the dense underbrush that blanketed Forath’s northern region, with a large trout hooked on one thumb. She hated having to hunt for her own food nearly as much as she hated having to trade her royal gown for a filthy peasant’s disguise. Still, it was a far better option than returning home to watch their family’s newest arrival claim the throne that, until two fortnights ago, had been within Rosalind’s reach.

The uninvited image of her half sister, Adelaide, forced its way into her thoughts once again, stirring a fresh surge of resentment within Rosalind. Why? Why after all these years had the princess chosen to return now?

Rosalind’s stomach rumbled painfully as she drew near the outer branches of a thicket she had napped within earlier. Rest was best sought during the day, when eyes and ears were most active. Besides, a fire in broad daylight for cooking would be out of the question, its trail of smoke sending an alert to Forath’s soldiers, whose search for her undoubtedly continued.

Searching out of duty, she was certain. Nothing more. For though her father cared little for her, he would never allow her to simply leave, even if his most prized possession had recently made a spectacular reappearance at Forath Castle.

A spectacular, unexpected reappearance, jeopardizing Rosalind’s carefully constructed plan to capture rival kingdom Edana’s throne. She had bowed to her father’s wishes, pledged to play her part in the nonsense of an arranged marriage, but the sacrifice would not be hers alone. No, once she’d wed their rogue prince, Rosalind planned to kill off Edana’s royalty one by one until she was all that remained. As their ruling queen, she would bring Quinn alongside her, fortify their army, and take down her father.

Then and only then might she finally find peace—by way of vengeance. But first, she had a fiancé to reclaim.

Rosalind retrieved a sturdy branch she’d fashioned into a crude spear earlier and skewered the trout, then set it aside to free her hands for fire making. A bit of smoke would not draw attention in the graying skies now, especially this deep in the forest. If her estimates were correct, she was but a day’s travels from the next village, perhaps two. A mere blink of the eye in time compared to the weeks she had spent traveling thus far. No matter either way, so long as she might finally find someone who knew the way to the witch clan. Once there, she believed her bumps and bruises, scrapes and cuts would be well worth the effort. For between the witches’ magic and her cunning, she soon would resume her betrothal to Prince Zayne and put her plan into motion.

To date, none of the peasants she’d spoken with had been willing to admit possession of such knowledge. But Rosalind was no fool. Alliances between the poorest of Forathians and the witches remained, she was sure of it. Eventually she would find someone whose tongue could be loosened with coin, and then her true course would be set. For while Forath’s high wizard, Haelan, might be able to conjure a world-bending portal like Edana’s wizard had, he had pledged to forever serve the king. As such, the wizard would never agree to send Princess Adelaide back to wherever she’d been these past twenty years—it would break their father’s heart. Unfortunately for him, Adelaide’s resumed absence was exactly what Rosalind needed to happen if she were to have any chance at Edana’s throne.

Yes, Adelaide had to be sent away once more. That, or be killed. But sending the girl off would be a hell of a lot less messy than arranging to have Adelaide murdered. As the woman was Tristan’s twin, Rosalind feared killing one might well lead to the death of the other. For as much ire as she carried for her life up to this point, Rosalind couldn’t live with herself if she caused pain to the one soul in this world who seemed to care about her above all else.

So to keep her brother safe, and because Haelan was unlikely to help further her cause, Rosalind now sought help from the only other source of magic she knew: the witches. Hopefully, they would agree to help once they heard the form of payment she planned to offer them in return.

Rosalind fumbled with her flint, a growing hunger sabotaging her steadiness of hand and patience. A shame I wasn’t born a dragon from Edana, able to produce a flame upon exhale, she thought for a brief moment, then quickly dismissed it. To be born a fire-breather, she would have also needed to be male—a gender she had no desire to be. Why wish to be made of brawn and breadth when charm and a soft bed had served her so well in the past? Oh, how furious Quinn would be to learn the number of men she had lured into her chambers. But she’d had good reason for each one, and all were bedded with the end goal of bringing Quinn alongside her when she rose to the throne.

A throne Adelaide had stolen the moment their father laid eyes upon her.

Rosalind worked her flint harder, faster. If only the family resemblance had been less striking. A resemblance she herself did not bear. But if magic had brought her long-lost half sister to Forath, surely magic could send her away once more. Rosalind was determined to see that it did—at any cost. She would have her crown yet, and so would Quinn.

The only question that remained was…when?

Soon she coaxed a fire to life, then set the fish above it, her stomach loudly voicing its displeasure in the delay. Hunger wasn’t something she experienced often. Nor was uncertainty, which lately had taken up residence in her mind. Uncertainty about her future, her quest, her plan…

A twig snapped outside the thicket. Rosalind spun on her seat to spy two large shadows approaching. In an instant, she was on her feet, a pair of short blades in her hands.

“Who goes there? Show yourselves.”

“Easy, lass,” a deep voice murmured. “We mean you no harm.”

One set of broad shoulders ducked beneath the opening to her makeshift home, then another. Both men straightened upon clearing the thorny bramble and halted across the fire from her. Judging by their mismatched tunics and primitive armor, these men were not of the royal guard. And though their hands appeared to be free of weapons, she knew better than to trust strangers in the woods. She pointed her blades in their direction.

“Who are you, then? And what is it you want?”

“Who we are is of no concern to you,” answered the larger of the two. Long russet hair was pulled back from his face, allowing her a clear view of eyes that matched the color of his locks. The man’s left eye appeared clouded, though, a scar radiating out from it both higher and lower upon his skin. “However, your questions in the village are a concern to us. Why do ye seek passage to the witches’ land?”

Rosalind worked to conceal the excitement that rose within her upon hearing those words. “Do you know the way?”

“Do no’ answer a question with a question, woman.” The other man spoke this time. His face was more youthful, his chest less broad. But the set of his jaw and darkness of his dull gray eyes left her feeling just as wary as the look of his companion. “What business do ye have with the witches?”

Rosalind lifted her chin. “I have a proposition for their clan.”

“A proposition?” asked the larger man. “And what is it ye are proposing, then?”

“’Tis nothing I shall discuss with anyone but their leader. Can you show me the way or not?”

The larger man stepped closer, his gaze unwavering and full of an unrepentant curiosity. “Aye.”

“How do I know this is not a trap set by Forath’s royal guards?”

“Do we look like any of King Jarin’s men, then?” asked the younger man.

“Disguises can easily be conjured,” she said.

The russet-haired man slowly knelt and plucked a long, stray twig from the ground. As he did so, his good eye began to glow the same russet color as his locks—the sign of a man with dragon’s blood. He rose with twig in hand and exhaled upon it. Instead of becoming encased in the ice that Forathian dragons possessed, the twig became engulfed by flame. Just as Rosalind opened her mouth to accuse him of being nothing more than a spy from Edana, he snapped the fingers of his empty hand. Instantly, ice replaced the flame. Gaze fixed upon her, he tossed the twig into the fire, where it settled with an unnatural hiss.

Rosalind watched the flames in stunned silence. Never before had she seen such a thing. Did the witches possess even greater powers than she’d been raised to believe? Unease washed over her anew.

“Very well,” she said. “You have made your point. Show me the way to your village, and I shall present your leader with a most favorable proposition.”

“And if our leader is displeased with your offering?” the younger man asked.

“Then return me here to where you found me, and I shall pay you handsomely for your services.”

The russet-haired man met her gaze anew, his glow brighter beneath a lifted brow. “And what if it is not money we desire?”

Forgive me, Quinn. My actions are ever for us.
She offered the man an alluring smile. “Then I shall find another method of repayment that pleases you, good sir.”

“Indeed.” He turned and spoke in a low voice with his companion, then returned his attention to her once more. The glow had gone from his gaze, replaced now by a dark and detached look. “Finish your meal quickly, then meet us by the stream so that we may be on our way.”

She watched them depart, then lowered herself on quaking knees to the log beside the fire. Was she mad to be considering their offer? What if they asked of her something which she was unprepared to offer? Though if she did nothing, the throne in Edana would soon slip out of reach for good.

With trembling hands, Rosalind set her skewered fish above the flames once more and prayed that she would not find the same fate.