Dragons Against Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice Book 2) (7 page)

“Even then.”

She closed her eyes and savored the moment. The safety she felt there in his arms, the floral scent wafting on the slight breeze around them. Would it always be like this between them? Him so accepting of her, and her forever drawn to him? An amicable silence fell over them, and Addie felt her anxieties begin to slip away.

Until another damn chicken squawked. Hurried footsteps followed after the noisy rascal. Addie opened her eyes and watched the same young boy go chasing after the bird. “I think he’s got the toughest job of all.”

“Perhaps so. Though, at Edana Castle, it is our cook who has the most difficult task.”

“Let me guess—your dad’s a picky eater?”

A silent chuckle shook Zayne’s chest beneath her. “Aye.”

“Speaking of your family…” She drew back and kept her voice low while leveling him a don’t-bullshit-me look. “Why didn’t you tell me before about the w—”

“Waterfalls?” His golden gaze flashed a warning glow. “I fear you may have been misinformed about both their numbers and locations. Of course, I am happy to share my knowledge of them with you.”

Addie glanced beyond Zayne’s shoulder to where Quinn stood pretending not to be eavesdropping, and cursed under her breath. Stupid highly sensitive dragon hearing. She’d barely slept a wink last night, worrying about how some crazy witch clan might try to steal her away again. Only two thoughts managed to keep her from climbing the walls: one, that Zayne was within shouting distance—or as he would say, screaming distance—and, two, that he’d promised to tell her all he knew of them today. With Quinn on babysitting duty, though, the prospect of another sleepless night now loomed before her.

Unless…

“You know,” she said. “It would really help me picture them more clearly if you were to draw them for me.”

“Draw them?”

“Yes, you know,
draw
them.” She raised a hand and pretended to write on her other open palm. “And maybe our family trees too.”

“Ah, yes,” he said with a nod. “Come, we shall need to acquire some writing implements. The scroll room should have more than enough to share.”

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Perhaps.” Zayne placed a chaste kiss upon her cheek. “Though never will I grow weary of hearing those words, sweet Adelaide.”

They stood and exited the stone structure, followed yet again by one clearly irritated Quinn Blackstone. Addie found a small amount of satisfaction in making the man hike back and forth through the castle’s interior, and in finding a way around his eavesdropping—even though she and Zayne had been guilty of doing the same just last night.

Rumors, she was beginning to find, were what kept life interesting here at Forath Castle. Which meant she better darn well make sure neither Quinn nor anyone else tried to read over their shoulders when they returned. Because the last thing she needed was to start any more rumors.

Especially ones that might crush what little freedom she had left.

R
osalind followed
Jaxon through his village, her head down but senses alert. Every hut they passed, every step they took, she cataloged in the back of her mind. Ten steps between buildings, each looking hastily constructed save the house at the center of this village: a grand though aged manor home, likely abandoned by its former tenants.

Or perhaps they had been drugged as well. And not by a mere sleeping potion.

Unease washed over her, but she continued on, determined to acquire the spell that would once again send her half sister away. Without a throne, how else could she obtain the power she so desperately craved? Jaxon slowed so that she might match his stride.

“Ye would be wise to use your manners with the queen and answer her questions honestly,” he said in a low voice. “For though a tongue may speak, the heart is what she hears.”

Rosalind frowned at the idiocy of such a notion. “And what is the name of this queen who listens to hearts rather than words and logic?”

“Her name is Giselle. Though, as you are our visitor, I advise ye to address her only as Your Majesty.”

Rosalind offered a nod while working to keep her face clear of disgust. His queen was not a
real
queen, likely not even of royal descent or proper bloodlines. To address her as Jaxon suggested was appalling, but to behave in any way contrary might insult the queen and thus lessen Rosalind’s chances of getting what she wanted.

And she wanted Princess Adelaide gone very, very much.

They drew upon the manor’s wide front steps and made their way toward its large wooden door. The guards stationed there offered small bows to Jaxon—or should she say,
Prince
Jaxon—and stepped aside to allow him access. Their eyes, however, remained fixated on her as she and her escort passed into the manor’s main hall.

Whatever Rosalind had imaged a witch’s lair might look like, this was certainly not it. The manor looked like any other from the outside, but the space within was filled from floor to the second-floor ceiling with lush green vegetation. A bubbling brook snaked its way along what might have been the room’s perimeter, and flowers in every color imaginable bloomed amid the hanging vines. Her step faltered at the beauty of it all.

“The view is a bit different from that within your castle’s walls, eh?”

She looked to Jaxon. “Is this…real?”

“Aye. Magic makes this possible, though the scene changes with the mood of our queen. Ye are in luck—her mood seems light today.”

“If witchcraft created this, then why does your hut remain so…plain?”

“Only the queen possesses the power to conjure such an oasis.”

“And what powers do you possess, then?”

“Do ye think that everyone who lives in this village is a witch?” he asked with a crooked grin.

“Aye, ’tis what I believed.”

“Not all our people are born with the magic, though most are able to learn enchantments, which summon it through spells.” Jaxon stopped beside her, his gaze intense as it locked with hers. “Contrary to what your father believes, Weston is not the only village where magic exists. It takes more than a single man declaring a people be exiled to smother magic in his kingdom.”

“You suggest there are still witches residing in Forath?”

“Aye. Many who know not what they are. ’Tis how Silas and I heard of your inquiries. We travel the forests searching for the lost and, once found, offer them refuge and training here, in our village.”

Witches in Forath? Oh, how furious her father would be to know such a thing.

“And how are you able to identify such a person if they know not themselves what they are?”

“I am a seeker. ’Tis one of my gifts.”

Rosalind suddenly realized how close they stood, him leaning toward her and her to him. She took a step back and drew a long breath to clear her head. Again, it was as though she’d become entranced by his voice. Perhaps that was one of his gifts as well—a gift she’d do well to learn to resist. A regal voice rang out then, interrupting her thoughts.

“My son.”

Rosalind looked toward the sound and spied a beautiful woman dressed in a flowing lilac gown. Her long hair—red, like glowing embers—hung nearly to her waist and was topped with a crown made of flowers that matched the blooms all around them. Jaxon stepped forward and knelt before his approaching mother, who bent to kiss each of his cheeks.

“Fate has returned you to me safely.”

“Aye, Mother.”

Jaxon rose to his full height, then stepped back to stand beside Rosalind. Eyes of the darkest brown settled upon Rosalind, and the queen’s right brow arched.

“Another lost sheep has been found?”

“I am neither a sheep nor lost, Your Majesty,” said Rosalind.

Jaxon shot her a brief look of disapproval. “My queen, I present to you Princess Rosalind Bennett, of the—”

“I know from where she hales,” spat his mother, her bright eyes now a steely black. “For what reason does the daughter of our most hated enemy stand before me now? Is she your prisoner?”

“No, Mother. She seeks our help and insists she shall make us a handsome offer in return.”

Giselle’s chin lifted. “And what help do you seek, child?”

“I seek a powerful magic, Your Majesty. One that can open a passage between this world and the next.”

The queen’s eyes narrowed. “Such magic does not exist.”

“But it does. I have seen it with my own eyes.”

“When?”

“Nearly two fortnights ago, when I witnessed my half sister return from a land beyond that which we know.”

“Impossible.” Giselle’s voice was barely a whisper, the color in her cheeks draining away.

“’Tis true, my queen. Princess Adelaide, Prince Tristan’s twin, was found deep in Forath’s wilderness wearing the strangest of garb. The man to whom I was then betrothed discovered her and saved her from a pack of hungry wolves.”

Beside her, Jaxon flinched. Giselle’s gaze shifted to him. “Go, seek Rachel.”

With a nod, he turned and strode away without another look back. And though he spoke not, Rosalind could sense a silent fury brewing beneath his skin. Whether from Rosalind’s disclosure or the task his mother bestowed upon him, she did not know.

“And where is the man of whom you speak?” Giselle drew closer, flanked immediately by a pair of guards who stepped out from the shadows behind their queen, and lowered her voice. “Why not bring him with you to speak on your behalf?”

“Because he is no longer my betrothed. The daughter of Queen Vanora stole his heart. I seek to steal it back.”

“Steal it back?” She barked a laugh. “Hearts are not possessions, child. They must be won, not taken.

“Then help me to win his heart by sending my sister away, back to the foreign world from which she was summoned.”

“And what will you give me in return if I do?”

“My father’s head.”

Giselle staggered back as though she’d been struck. “Do you think me a fool, child?”

“No, Your Majesty. But you of all people must hate my father as much as I. For casting you and your people from our lands, leaving them homeless and with only the clothes on their backs.”

“I shall not deny my hatred of the man. Yet even if your father’s life is extinguished, would your brother not step forward to claim his rightful place on the throne and command all remaining warriors to destroy what remained of our village?” She shook her head. “No, we value life above possessions here, daughter of Jarin. Perhaps you would be wise to do the same.”

The queen waved her off and strode toward a golden throne set amid the vegetation, which Rosalind had previously overlooked. Frustration warred with panic inside her mind. She had counted on the witches’ help, had been sure they would be eager to exchange their spell for her father’s destruction. A reception such as this had not once entered her mind.

“Will nothing sway your decision?” she asked.

“We do not meddle in royal affairs. If your betrothed is in love with another, then he was never your true mate. Find another man and move on.”

Rosalind bit back a growl. She’d spent too long in the wilderness and come too far to accept “no” for an answer. So she waited for Giselle to be seated then stepped toward the throne and tried a different approach: goading and lies.

“Pity, I would have enjoyed watching my father’s kingdom crumble at the hands of his most capable enemy. Or so I believed. Perhaps Haelan spoke the truth when he suggested you lacked the powers necessary to create a doorway between worlds.”

A look of annoyance lit upon the queen’s features. “A foolish claim spoken by Forath’s high wizard. I assure you, our powers far exceed his.”

“And yet he has something in his possession that you do not.”

Giselle’s eyes narrowed. “Which is?”

“Adelaide, the girl summoned by Edana’s high wizard from across two realms so that she may become Prince Zayne’s wedded mate.”

“Prince Zayne Godfrey?” The queen’s previously waning attention came into sharp focus. She descended the steps once more and came to stand before Rosalind. “Do you swear these claims to be true?”

“Aye.”

Giselle studied her for a long moment, the blackness now gone from her eyes. In its place seemed to be a wary optimism. “Jaxon, bring Rachel forth.”

Caught up in her plea to the queen, Rosalind had not sensed Jaxon’s return. He stepped forward now with an elder woman at his arm, their pace slow and cautious. It wasn’t until the pair drew quite near that she understood the reason behind their halting gait. Rachel’s eyes lacked all color and were clouded white with age and disease.

Giselle took the elder’s hands in her own. “My most trusted Rachel.”

“Yes, my queen?”

“I wish you to lay hands on this woman and say the sooth.”

Unease washed over Rosalind. If her journey was to end poorly, would she truly want to know? “Your Majesty, I—”

“Fear not, child. Rachel shall not hurt you as she looks into your future. And your past.”

Her past. A tightness formed in Rosalind’s chest. Would this Rachel see her evil ways and warn the queen not to trust her? Or suggest she be punished for her past wrongs, that she be tortured as she had considered torturing Adelaide before her identity had been known? Rosalind remained steadfast as the queen led Rachel to her, resisting the growing urge to retreat.

The blind woman reached a hand to Rosalind’s face, and time came to a halt. Unseeing eyes tracked the movement of calloused fingers as they felt their way along her cheek. Around her eyes. Down her nose, her neck, and stopped just above her heart.

Rachel’s head tipped to one side. “Ah, yes. We’ve been expecting this one.”

“And this girl of whom she spoke?” asked Giselle.

“Her memories show the girl summoned by Edana’s wizard, Berinon. A girl who twice has departed our realm…and twice returned.”

The queen drew in a sharp breath. Without another word, she strode from the room, leaving the others to stare after her in confusion. As murmuring arose around them, Rachel withdrew her hand, the elder’s wrinkled features lit with delight. Rosalind looked from her to Jaxon, who stood frowning in the direction his mother had gone, and back.

“Worry not,” said Rachel. “You shall grow closer in time.”

“Closer to whom? The queen?” Rosalind asked.

Rachel’s smile widened. She patted Jaxon’s arm to lead her away. “I shall send him back for you once he returns me to my room.”

“Back for me? But…what is it I am to do?”

Rachel offered her a wink. “Oh, I believe you will know when the time comes.”