Dragons Against Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice Book 2) (4 page)

Z
ayne lay on his back
, eyes closed, with a drowsy Adelaide sprawled naked across his chest, and savored the moment. The quiet, the peace. For the past few weeks, his days had been anything but. The pace had driven him to near madness, made all the more so by his absence from Addie, and prompted today’s begging of his mother’s permission to depart for Forath early rather than make the appropriate request to his oversleeping father. Punishment of one form or another would undoubtedly greet him upon his return, but it was a price he’d been willing to pay.

To see his betrothed, to hold her in his arms once again, he would pay any price.

He pushed thoughts of retribution from his mind and instead enjoyed the feeling of her cool, soft skin pressed against his—a sensation he would never tire of. Now that he knew her to be a princess of the ice dragon kingdom, the differences in their body temperatures made perfect sense.

Fire and ice.

In any other combination, one would surely lead to the demise of the other. But together, he and his sweet Adelaide seemed in perfect balance. A balance that, before she stepped into his life, he had never found. Addie was his one true mate—of that he was certain. And as such, he would protect her at all costs until he breathed his last breath. There lived no man or dragon who could keep them apart.

Zayne smirked at the tone of his thoughts as he traced imaginary circles upon her back. Oh, how his mother would giggle to hear him say such things aloud. Helena was a hopeless romantic, convinced that true love existed for everyone. He’d never believed her before Addie arrived, having grown up watching his mother sit upon a throne he knew she never wanted and married to a man who thought of little else than ruling his kingdom. It seemed unfair, perhaps even cruel, that a loving, giving soul like his mother be bonded to such a harsh beast. But what had been bound could not be unbound, only endured while the king lived.

And live he must, so that Zayne could be free to spend time with Adelaide these next few years. For when his father’s days were done, Zayne would ascend to Edana’s throne. But Zayne wasn’t ready for such a responsibility, not yet. What he wanted instead—no, needed—was to bond with his sweet Addie, to become one with her in every way. To run wild and free, away from the cold, drab castle of Forath and the suffocating walls of Castle Edana. And, when the time was right, to sire offspring and start a family of their own.

Today, unfortunately, was not that day. He glanced at the amber-tinted skies outside and sighed.

“As the sun fades on the horizon, so does our time away, my lady.”

Addie shifted above him and pressed a kiss to his neck. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

“Careful, my sweet.” Zayne drew his fingertips along her spine. “Speak to me in such a way, and our return might well be delayed.”

She drew back and offered him a mischievous grin. “Don’t tempt me.”

Zayne worked to hold his dragon at bay; her wanton ways could result in punishment for them both. “If the decision were mine to make, we would indeed remain. But as I wish to remain in King Jarin’s good graces, we should make haste. Otherwise, he might well seek my hide, and I will be of little use to you as the king’s newest hunting trophy.”

“Speaking of hunting, do you guys keep written records of your hunts and battles and stuff?”

He shifted to his side, easing Addie down onto the fox skins beneath them. “Aye. Our scribe records all events of import.”

“And then stores them…where? In a library?” Her brows drew low. “Oh, wait—you probably don’t call them that yet. Um, in a space somewhere inside the castle? A room, maybe, with bunches of scrolls tied together? And can just anyone read them any time?”

“Edana Castle indeed has a chamber where such scrolls are kept. And those who possess the skills to read are allowed to do so as they please. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I got bored this afternoon and did some more exploring of the castle. And I found this room with all these crudely bound scrolls. So I opened one collection and tried reading them. The script was hard to read, harder than yours, even,” she added with a wink. “But after a while, I realized they were just poems. Stories. Or so I thought.”

A flicker of excitement shone in Adelaide’s eyes as it so often did during her times of exploration and discovery.

“Go on,” he said.

“Well, I should probably back up a bit and mention that the scrolls were kept in a room I don’t think I was supposed to be in. And then I heard voices coming, so I panicked and hid. It was two of our handmaidens, and when they saw the scrolls out, one made a comment that it looked like my father was ‘studying the prophecies’ again.”

“The prophecies?”

A wave of unease washed over Zayne. He knew of no prophecies recorded within his castle walls, only historical notations and dreamt-up stories passed from generation to generation in his family to amuse their youth. Did Forath’s high wizard possess secrets Berinon did not?

“Yeah. The one I’d been reading when they startled me was called
The Legend of Fire and Ice
. It was really cool, but it looked like some of it was missing. Which totally stank, because I really want to know how the rest of it goes.”

“Well, it seems in this kingdom,” said a low voice from the mouth of the cave, “whatever Her Highness wants, Her Highness gets.”

* * *

A
ddie bit back a startled squeak
. If he’d been any other of her father’s guard, she would simply have been irritated by his uninvited appearance. But this was no ordinary guard—Quinn Blackstone was the brute who her half sister had sent to kidnap Addie just a few weeks ago. So his presence both irritated
and
terrified her.

In Rosalind’s defense, she hadn’t known then that she and Addie were related. But Blackstone had no defense. He’d taken Addie against her will, secured her on a medieval torture rack in Forath Castle’s dungeon, and then prepared to have his way with her. It’d been sheer luck that he’d seen the resemblance she held to her twin and gone stumbling away, wide-eyed as though he’d seen a ghost. To him, she had been. But now the tables were turned, and he was the one haunting her at night, tainting her slumber with nightmares involving glowing red eyes and harrowing, blindfolded flights.

Nightmares she hadn’t shared with Zayne for fear he might lash out at Quinn and jeopardize their wedding. Later, maybe. But for now, she’d rather suffer in silence than risk him freaking out about it.

“Cover me,” she whispered as the beast stalked nearer, scrambling to tug on her confounded undergarments.

Zayne reached for her gown and shifted so that his body blocked her from Blackstone’s view. As she hurried to dress, he remained in that same protective stance, poised to defend without bothering to cover his own naked self. Embarrassment fanned fire across her cheeks at being caught in the act—or rather, shortly
after
the act—and yet her fiancé sat as though this was all perfectly normal. Maybe in his world, it was.

Her world too, she reminded herself. There was no going back now.

“You, better than anyone, would know how demands of the female Forathian royalty have been met, Blackstone,” said Zayne. “Tell me, did Tristan request you and Rosalind be chaperoned as well, or did your guise as her escort serve to fool all the royal Bennett men?”

Addie had wondered about her sister’s relationship with Quinn after their coordinated efforts on her kidnapping, but when she’d asked Tristan, he insisted they were just long-time friends. A lie, or was Zayne correct in his jab about the cluelessness of her brother and father? Judging from Quinn’s momentary look of surprise followed by a dark glower, she’d guess the truth was closer to the surface than he wished it to be. She tugged the gown over her head to hide a smirk.

“As never did you attempt to carry Princess Rosalind off against her father’s orders, the request was unnecessary. I see now, however, we had no need to worry as you prefer to steal from the peasant colonies rather than from another castle.”

At that, Zayne’s body did tense. Addie placed her hand upon his forearm and spoke up, unable to bite her tongue. “It’s hard to steal what’s freely given. Or is that all you know? Stealing?”

“Given freely? Have you no honor, woman? Your actions disgrace your father’s crown.”

A growl rose within Zayne’s chest, his voice venomous. “Be careful how you address my future wife, warrior. And your kingdom’s eldest princess.”

“She is no princess to my people, Prince Zayne. As for her future as queen, your subjects shall be the judge of that.”

Zayne rose and came to stand a few feet from him, muscles taut with anger. Quinn’s eyes took on a dim red glow and Addie had to look away, afraid the view might amplify tonight’s assured nightmares. Zayne, however, stood his ground. In the buff.

“My people, it seems, are more open-minded than those in this kingdom, if what you speak is true of Forath’s many subjects. Or perhaps what I hear are merely the embittered words of a man whose lover has run off without him.”

“I speak the truth,” said Quinn, superiority in his voice. “Though how you choose to receive it is on your head, not mine.”

Addie heard the rumble in Zayne’s chest grow and decided it was time to step in before things got out of hand. If a fight broke out, she’d have far more to explain to her father than her initial act of disobedience.

“Does he know?” She rose, holding her gown’s bodice in place as she was unable to secure its rear laces on her own, and stepped forward. Though Quinn Blackstone would forever give her the heebie-jeebies, so long as Zayne was here, the warrior couldn’t harm her. Wouldn’t try, if he knew what was best for him. The men cast confused gazes upon her as she motioned for Zayne to retie her gown’s back. “My father—does he know we’ve gone?”

“No.” The glow faded from Quinn’s narrowed eyes. “Prince Tristan sent me to find you before the king grew wise to your ruse.”

“Good. Then if you two are done with all this ridiculous male posturing, we should head back. The king would be furious with us all if he knew where we were.”

Zayne finished with her ribbons and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “Wise words, my lady.”

Quinn, however, turned without comment and stalked toward the fading sunlight.

Good riddance.

Addie turned to face her betrothed, whose own eyes still glowed amber in silent fury, and reached to cup his cheek. After a long moment, his gaze shifted from their unwelcome intruder down to hers.

“You shouldn’t let him get under your skin like that,” she said.

“’Tis impossible not to when he speaks ill of my lady. I should slay him for what he said. Draw a breath of flames and watch him die a slow, painful death.”

“But you won’t, because then you’d be just as big a bully as he is. And I’m not marrying a bully.”

“Marrying.” Zayne closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. “Only from your lips could the word sound so sweet.”

Addie shook her head. Matrimony had never been something she planned to do. Why would it when she’d grown up with such terrible role models? A disinterested mother who left one day and never came back, and a drunk of a father she’d grown to despise? No, she’d decided long ago that marriage—and all long-term relationships, for that matter—was something to avoid.

But then she’d found Zayne, and the longer they were together, the harder it was for her to stick to her guns. Too bad marrying also meant being thrust into the royal limelight, front and center before a kingdom full of people.

People who belonged in a world where Addie still felt she didn’t.

Berinon, of course, would disagree. Would insist she was from this world originally, and here was where she belonged. So why did she still feel like such an outsider in her own family’s home? And why, instead of welcoming her home with open arms, had her own sister taken off without so much as saying good-bye?

Addie sighed. It didn’t matter. She’d made her choice, allowed her emotions to trump common sense and chose to remain here. And she was happy with her decision. Mostly. If only this realm’s ceremony was more like those back in Indiana, where the bride and groom weren’t expected to slash their palms and clasp their bleeding hands together as a symbol of their unity.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Two weeks. She had two weeks to somehow summon the courage to endure this world’s most sacred ritual. Today, however, she pushed that worry aside and chose to focus on a more pressing issue—getting home before her father found out and did something awful, like ground her for life.

“Come on.” She pecked a quick kiss to Zayne’s cheek. “We should really be getting back.”

R
osalind wove through dry
, dusty brush and bramble, doing the best she could to stay quiet and keep up with her two…what were they? Captors? Accomplices? She had yet to decide what they were or might grow to be, preoccupied as she was. Because, while her thoughts should be on the here and now, they were instead consumed by the mental rehearsal of what she planned to offer their leader.

“Have ye rode the winds before, princess?”

She flinched from the question, both from surprise and worry. The prospect of being sky-bound with these men made her wholly anxious. On the ground, she could fight. In the air, she would be helpless to do anything but trust them.

And trust wasn’t an emotion Rosalind came by easily.

“Aye, though ’tis not my preferred method of travel. Can we not ride a steed to wherever your leader awaits?”

“No’ if you want to make it past Forath’s guards.” Jaxon, the larger one who’d had enough manners to introduce himself when she joined up with them after consuming her dinner, smiled broadly. “But do no’ worry, I shall not drop ye.”

“How very comforting,” she murmured.

It had been quite some time since last Rosalind had flown. Longer still since she’d been carried in a dragon’s clutches rather than perched upon one’s back. But as she was a stranger to the witches’ sentries, she’d likely not be given another option.

She stumbled over a fallen limb and cursed under her breath. Oh, but she was rattled with unease. Quinn would be furious to know she’d even considered their proposal. But Rosalind knew there was still time to turn around, to draw her knife and fight if need be. Even with her limited training, she could easily defeat the smaller warrior. But not Jaxon. No, the man was far too broad, his hawklike gaze detecting too much. He would see the attack coming before she reached him, but from there she could not envision his response. Would he slay her first or allow her to run?

Contrary to reason, instinct whispered he would spare her.

Though she knew him not, there was something about the way he held himself—the unspoken strength in his movements, the keen awareness of his surroundings despite lacking one eye—that had her wanting to trust the man. His companion, though, she trusted not. The lad was young and brash, lust all too clear in his eyes. Thus Rosalind remained close to Jaxon, praying instinct had not failed her this day…and that the future reward of her actions would far outweigh the risk she was about to take.

Jaxon suddenly drew to a halt, moonlight spilling across his shoulders as it flooded the grassy clearing now before them. “Do ye trust me, then?”

She looked to him in surprise. Had she spoken her thoughts aloud? Surely she had not. Though, as he was a witch, perhaps it would be best to better guard her thoughts. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

He grinned. A dashingly, handsome grin that only served to increase her anxieties and decrease her patience.

“Then get on with it, man,” she said. “You said yourself my throne would soon be stolen.”

Jaxon’s grin took on an evil edge. The sight should have scared her, his proposal to fly her to an unknown location far from home and the protection of her own guard even more so. Yet she was unable to look away, unable to refuse his offer.

The men began undressing in preparation for their flight, and now Rosalind did avert her eyes. Soon the air around them began to whip and swirl. When it stilled, she cast a wary glance toward the clearing. Where the two men had been, now two large dragons stood, one a thin, gray creature and the other a magnificent russet beast. Both stared down at her in anticipation.

“Do not drop me, beast,” she warned the larger dragon, who she was certain had to be Jaxon. “For if any harm comes to me, my father will smite your people before they can mount a proper defense.”

The russet dragon snorted loudly, then craned its long, snakelike neck and gave her a not so subtle nudge toward its front claws. She stepped forward on hollow legs, feigning confidence she did not feel as she complied. The great beast sat back on its hindquarters and reached for her with giant, gleaming talons. But his razor-sharp claws hurt her not as they wrapped carefully around her arms, and in another moment, they were airborne.

And oh, were these sentries fast!

Once she acclimated to the height and cooler, thinner air, Rosalind looked to the lands rushing by far beneath her feet. She, Tristan, and Quinn had soared together countless times over these same hills as adolescents, looking for imaginary rebels to conquer or monsters to slay. They considered themselves experts of Forathian lands, aware of every forest and valley, every rock face and waterfall.

Ah, but today she looked down upon the lands with fresh eyes. A wiser, more worldly woman. One who knew all too well that real monsters didn’t live in the woods, but within their very castle walls.

And that the rebels she detested as a child might well soon become her best allies.

The dragons angled toward a forbidding wall of rock that served as a natural boundary between Edana and Forath. She waited for her escorts to change their course, but instead of veering right or left, both winged beasts increased their speed and continued straight ahead. The wind grew stronger in her ears but did not deafen her enough to hide the sound of a long bow’s arrow slicing past. A scream built in her lungs, and she struggled to pull her legs in closer to her body, knowing full well that, dangling beneath the russet dragon as she was, Rosalind made for an easy target.

Would this be how she died? Shot by her father’s own men?

Both dragons suddenly angled hard to the left, dove, and aimed for the rock wall with increasing speed. The scream catapulted from her lungs now, ricocheting off the stone as they flew faster toward it…

…and passed right on through.