The Flame King’s Queen (Fire and Desire #3)

Chapter 6

6

Isavelle

Z abriel drifts in and out of sleep for several hours. I’m by his side every time the Hratha’len check his bandages and hold a cup to his lips. They give him many concoctions to help him heal and regain his strength.

Mother Linnea speaks softly at my elbow. “Lady Isavelle, there are people who wish to speak with you.”

When I look around, several figures have ascended the stairs and seem to be waiting for me. The Temple Crone, Captain Ashton, and a dragonrider I remember called Sundra. I make my way over to them. They must have come for news about their king’s recovery.

“Zabriel is sleeping. His breathing is easy.”

“That is wonderful to hear, Ma’len’s mate,” the Temple Crone murmurs while bowing her head.

I once asked for the priestesses to call me Isavelle, not Ma’len’s mate, but they never took to it. I suppose I’ve been called worse things.

Sundra says, “The dragonmaster sends his regrets that he isn’t here to speak with Ma’len’s proxy, but he is seeing to the well-being of each of the dragons that entered the ethereal plane.”

“Are the dragons all right?” I ask anxiously.

“My dragon Merrex is in good wing, and the others look well to me, but the dragonmaster is protective of his flare. I will relay to him your orders for the dragonriders.”

All three of them are gazing at me expectantly. Ma’len’s proxy can’t mean me, can it? “My orders?”

Captain Ashton inclines his head. “After the last time he was injured, Ma’len made it clear to us that you are his proxy as well as his mate. He trusts you to do what is best for Maledin if something happens to him.”

I feel a lurch of panic at the thought of something happening to Zabriel, but I remind myself that he’s not in danger anymore. “Zabriel never told me. I haven’t thought about any orders. I’ve only been thinking about him.”

Nervously, I glance from Sundra to Ashton to the Temple Crone, wondering what they expect from me. Battle plans? As soon as Zabriel is well enough, we can discuss how we will breach the protective southern barrier and defeat Emmeric so there can finally be peace in Maledin. I can’t begin to imagine how we’d do it without Zabriel. I certainly can’t order any attacks on his behalf.

Just as I start to panic, I remember that if Zabriel were on his feet, he wouldn’t only be thinking about war. There are people who need our attention. Everyone we rescued from the ethereal plane today, my family among them.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts, and then say, “Two things are important right now. We must settle the rescued villagers in the castle until it’s safe for them to go home, and we must find whoever hurt my mate so they can’t hurt him again. The dragonmaster saw Godric furtively speaking with the wingrunner Leibel and the spellbreaker Elysant this morning. Have they been caught?”

Ashton’s expression is grim. “Leibel’s wyvern returned to the eyrie without her rider. The wingrunner has deserted his post, or he’s dead.”

“Elysant has also not returned,” the crone tells us.

I glance at Zabriel’s sleeping form. He may already have killed Leibel and Elysant before he fought his way back to us, but I wish I could be sure.

On Zabriel’s other side, Esmeral lifts her head and blinks sleepily. Esmeral has been permitted to stay with us, partly as a comfort to me as I watch over Zabriel, and partly because of the big doe eyes that she gives anyone who suggests she might want to return to the flare. Esmeral yawns noisily, and then an image forms in my mind, seen through my dragon’s eyes. Zabriel, covered in blood and killing Leibel with the wingrunner’s own halberd. Then my dragon shows me another picture of Elysant fleeing from Zabriel toward a portal.

“Leibel is dead. Esmeral saw my mate kill him. But Elysant fled, and it looks as though she made it out of the ethereal plane. We need to track her down.”

Sundra nods sharply. “I can send scrolls to every town with her description, and the soldiers will be on their guard for her. Meanwhile, the City Guard has been strengthened at every gate, and we have posted more castle guards within the walls. You and Ma’len are safe.”

“Thank you,” I tell her.

“Wingrunner patrols will hunt for Elysant,” says Captain Ashton.

“Elysant may have fled to one of the many sacred Hratha’len temples,” the Temple Crone tells us. “My Temple Mothers will search them.”

“This is good. Thank you. My fellow former Veiled Virgins will remember what it’s like to be strangers in this castle and fearful of the dragons and wyverns in the skies. Will you please ask them to care for the rescued villagers? Santha and Posette will know how best to comfort everyone.” I name the two young women who’ve been working as my lady’s maids.

Sundra bows her head. “Yes, Lady Isavelle.” She hesitates, and then blurts out, “I am—was—Godric’s second. I’m so angry with myself, Lady Isavelle. I should have known that Godric was a traitor. There was no one closer to him than me.”

“Don’t blame yourself. Zabriel trusted him completely.”

She presses her lips together ruefully. “I’m a dragonrider, but I have always worked closely with the foot soldiers. Now that Godric is dead, I will lead the City Guard for now, but I understand if he no longer has faith in my judgment.” Sundra bows her head respectfully and turns away.

The Temple Crone withdraws and goes to stand by my mate’s bedside, but Captain Ashton hesitates before me. He’s dressed in his black and silver wingrunner uniform, and his handsome face is troubled. “Lady Isavelle, I deeply apologize for my actions earlier. I should never have approached you with my personal concerns in the middle of an important mission.”

“I also want Ravenna to come home,” I say softly. “You needn’t apologize for worrying about her. It makes my heart hurt to think how she must be suffering with that monster.”

He inclines his head and stares at the ground. After a moment he says, “I’m grateful that you were able to bring your family home, Lady Isavelle. Every moment spent missing those who should still be here is torment.”

I watch the captain leave with a heavy heart. As soon as Zabriel has his strength back, he’ll do everything he can to end this war once and for all. Until then, the waiting will be painful.

I return to my mate’s side, slipping my hand into his now warm one and holding it tightly as I sit by his side. With my free hand, I gently comb my fingers through the tangles in his long black hair. There’s a small towel and a bowl of water at my elbow, and I gently daub flecks of dried blood from his cheeks and throat.

Suddenly his eyes fly open. “Elysant. Where—”

Zabriel tries to sit up, but he winces in pain. Glancing around, he seems to realize where he is and reaches for me. “Are you safe, sha’lenla ?”

“We are both safe,” I assure him, stroking his hair back. “We’re still in the temple. The Temple Mothers are healing you, and the castle guards are protecting you.”

He sinks back down in relief, but his fingers tighten on mine. “I was dreaming. I remember now. But I should be the one protecting you. Elysant fled from me. Has she been caught?”

“Not yet, but wingrunner patrols are searching for her. Sundra is sending scrolls to every town so that the guards will know who to look for, and the Temple Mothers will search Hratha’len sacred places where she may have hidden herself.”

Zabriel smiles at me in admiration. “That is everything that I would have done.” His eyelids grow heavy. “I feel as though I have been on a long, long journey, but it is good to be home with you, sha’lenla . So very good.”

I wonder if he knows just how far he traveled, and how close he came to never coming home again. There’s a lump in my throat as I remember that my mate came so close to being nothing but a cold, lifeless corpse.

With his eyes closed, Zabriel squeezes my hand. “I can tell from your scent how much you wish to be close to me, Omega. I will rest here a while longer, but we will go back to our own bed soon.”

I gaze at him in surprise, and then I laugh and shake my head. “You’re in no fit state for any of that kind of thing.”

“I heal fast, sha’lenla . Besides, I didn’t mean that .” His red eyes open, and he gazes up at me. “My beautiful Omega is carrying my baby, and I haven’t slept wrapped around her body yet. I need to hold you both in my arms.” Then he adds without looking away from me, “Scourge is coming.”

“He is?” I ask, wondering what he means.

As I look around, I notice there’s a flurry of activity in the temple. The priestesses are tidying everything and moving back to line the temple walls. Zabriel and I are up above the font and the main floor.

“He’s about to replenish the Font of First Flames,” Zabriel explains, sitting up with effort, wincing as the blanket covering his chest falls into his lap. His muscles flex against his bandages.

I place my hands on his shoulders. “Don’t hurt yourself. Let me help you.”

“I’m all right, sha’lenla . Let’s watch this together. I don’t believe you have seen this before.”

He puts an arm around me, and I nestle carefully into his side. He’s right, I’ve never seen the fire being replenished before. The Temple Crone stands before the font with her arms raised, speaking in the old Maledinni tongue. The words are unknown to me, but I like their sound, and I feel their power. As we watch the ceremony, Zabriel keeps turning his head, burying his face in my hair, and taking deep lungfuls of my scent. Every time he does, he gives a soft groan.

“You’re healing me,” he whispers.

The Temple Crone moves back. The sunlight shining through the open ceiling of the temple is suddenly blocked out. I glimpse Scourge’s open jaws, and then liquid fire is pouring down and filling the font. The priestesses’ sweet singing reaches a crescendo. Warmth and firelight dance around us, and the flames in the font are bright. A moment later, Scourge closes his jaws, and we hear him flying away.

“While the fire burns, Maledin is strong.” Zabriel kisses my throat and then nips the nape of my neck with his dragines. “I’m feeling stronger as well. All the priestesses fussing over me makes me feel like an invalid. I want my Omega’s beautiful naked body pressed against me so I can remember I’m an Alpha.”

Zabriel settles back onto his elbows and then lays on his back. I cover him with the blanket once more. “Soon. Maybe tomorrow, but only if the Temple Crone says that you can.”

As soon as we do sleep in our own bed, I have no doubt that my Alpha will coax me to sit astride him, swearing that he won’t move until I’m suddenly full of his knot and he’s ripped his bandages open.

“What will you do while I rest, my beautiful dragon?”

“I will speak with my family. Dad and Anise must be bewildered by everything that’s happened, and I don’t even know where they are right now.”

Zabriel nods and closes his eyes. “When you leave the temple, take your bodyguards. You must be within their sight at all times. I’m ashamed that I can’t swear that you and my baby are safe in my own castle.”

“I will always have them with me. I promise. You may rest easily.”

Zabriel squeezes my hand. “You and Esmeral are my delight. When we are finally alone, I will tell you how she saved my life.”

That’s news to me. Esmeral didn’t show me anything about her and Zabriel. I’m curious to know the details, but I must let my Alpha rest.

As I make my way past the Font of First Flames, which are now dancing and leaping high and filling the temple with light and warmth, a Temple Maiden approaches me.

“The dragonmaster is outside. He wishes to know how Ma’len fares.”

I thank her and make my way through the double doors and into the corridor.

Stesha is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a foot propped against the stone. He straightens up when he sees me. “I have been tending to the dragons and have heard little news. How are Zabriel’s injuries?”

“They are serious, but he was strong enough to come back to us. He has been sleeping a lot, but we just watched Scourge replenish the font together.”

Stesha nods and turns to go.

I haven’t had the chance to speak with Stesha, and I call out to him. “Wait, please, dragonmaster.” He pauses and turns back to me, frowning. “Thank you for what you did for us. Zabriel and I would both be dead if you had not kept an eye on Godric.”

“Dragonriders don’t require gratitude,” he says dismissively.

But for once his tone isn’t sharp, and I’m encouraged to smile at him. My dislike of the dragonmaster has been constant since I first encountered him, but though Stesha is severe, sometimes to the point of rudeness, he is loyal. “All the same, I give you my thanks.”

Stesha frowns curiously, studying me in detail. “What is…” He turns his head away and steps back. “Oh. Y’denris ol Ma’len fennar .”

“Pardon?”

He opens his mouth to explain, but footsteps sound along the corridor. We both look around when a familiar figure turns the corner. Zenevieve, her cheeks flushed and wisps of hair flying around her face. She gazes up at Stesha with an open mouth.

“I…” Stesha’s voice fades away. Neither of them moves or speaks as they stare at each other. I may as well have disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“I came to see how Ma’len fares,” Zenevieve finally says, glancing at me. “But the dragonmaster was giving his congratulations to the king? You’re pregnant, Isavelle?”

So that’s what y’denris ol Ma’len fennar means.

My cheeks heat. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to people telling me my own secrets because of my scent. I cover my stomach with my hands, and then I can’t help but smile at the hopeful feeling that spreads through me. “Apparently I am. I only just found out myself.”

Zenevieve smiles happily. “Zabriel told you? He was the first to know, even after everything that happened today? How perfect for you both.” She runs into my arms and hugs me.

I’m aware of Stesha looming over us, and any moment now, he’s going to turn on his heel and stride away. Zenevieve has shed so many tears over him, and I know she feels like she failed and disappointed him. Meanwhile, Stesha beat his head against a wall until blood poured down his face, which I’m sure was because he feels responsible for all Zenevieve’s torment by Emmeric’s hands. He and Zenevieve haven’t spoken since she returned from being in Emmeric’s thrall. It’s about time they did.

I quickly disentangle myself from my friend and steer her toward Stesha. “I must hurry and find my family. The dragonmaster will tell you how Zabriel fares.”

I turn a corner and head down the corridor, and I grip my thumbs tightly in my fists, silently begging one of them to speak. I walk slowly and my ears are pricked.

“I like how you’re wearing your hair these days, dragonmaster,” Zenevieve says softly. Shyly.

I wonder how he used to wear it. I’ve only ever seen Stesha with his hair loose in a long white curtain down his back.

Say something, Stesha. Give her something that you both desperately need.

My blood sings for you.

My teeth ache for you.

Because a Maledinni Alpha wouldn’t say I love you . He would speak of teeth and blood.

But there’s only cold silence behind me. I sigh and keep walking. After everything that has happened, perhaps they still need more time before they are able to reform their friendship or turn it into something else. There are things in their pasts that I don’t know about, things that Zenevieve is sorry about that she has mentioned to me and never explained.

For now, I turn my attention to my family. They must be so confused and worried by everything that has happened.

As I emerge from the temple into fresh air and bright spring sunshine warming the black stones, I see my bodyguards, and I can’t help but smile at seeing them both fit and well.

“That is a wonderful sight,” Fiala says, returning my smile. “ Ma’len must be feeling stronger if you’re smiling.”

I embrace them both. “Zabriel is already frustrated he can’t get out of bed.”

“I can believe it,” Dusan replies. “If we didn’t have the important task of guarding you, my lady, we would be out there on our wyverns hunting the traitor.”

Fiala’s eyes narrow in anger. “Elysant, that lying bitch. I regret every time I spoke with her that I didn’t wring her scrawny neck.”

“You couldn’t have known. None of us knew, though I feel as though I should have suspected her more strongly after the Ritual of the First Heat.” The other spellbreaker, Heloise, went mad and tried to kill me during the ritual by exacerbating my heat until I was exhausted. She withheld food and water from me and overpowered the other Hratha’len guarding me, including Elysant. She must have been complicit in what Heloise did, but no one guessed.

Dusan is gripping his halberd with both hands so hard that his knuckles are white. “Thank the gods you’re both safe and well. Nothing can happen to our king and future queen, the only Alpha and Omega pair in the kingdom, or we will all despair.”

“No doubt the king will be on his feet soon. Meanwhile, will you please take me to my family? I feel terrible abandoning them for so long.”

“Of course, my lady.” As we walk, Fiala says to Dusan, “You know, Ma’len and Lady Isavelle are not the only Alpha and Omega pair in the kingdom. There is also Kane and Ravenna, remember?”

Dusan makes a disgusted sound. “They don’t count. The lady will kill him as soon as Kane destroys the southern barrier, and she’ll come to live at the castle.”

“If the former witchfinder dies suddenly at some point in the near future, I don’t imagine that there will be many who will shed tears over the loss,” I say.

Fiala snorts in amusement. “You are correct, my lady.”

The rescued villagers are all sheltering in the Great Hall and beneath tents in the conjoining courtyard. Many of them are gathered in small, bewildered groups. Others are weeping, no doubt, because they have learned that half their loved ones perished while they were locked in the ethereal plane. I recognize several faces belonging to the villagers of Amriste and move toward them, only to notice how they shrink away from me.

I spot Anise when she suddenly shoots to her feet, screeching, “How dare you call my sister that horrible word! Take that back.”

There’s some angry conversation, and then Anise marches over to me, two spots of indignant color burning in her cheeks. Dad follows behind her.

“If someone has called me a witch, then it is not an insult,” I tell Anise when she and Dad reach my side.

“They called you a demon,” Anise exclaims.

A demon? That’s a new one. “Why am I a demon?”

“Because your eyes and hair have changed colors. They are saying you are possessed by a demon. Your appearance has got something to do with the dragons, am I right?”

I completely forgot that my looks are different from the last time I saw my family, and they won’t know why. Anise has guessed correctly. “Yes, it’s because of the dragons. That one dragon you saw earlier, to be precise. The small, pretty one with turquoise and golden scales. I bonded with her, and I changed a little to look like her. It happens to all dragonriders.”

Dad studies my face, and after a long silence, he says, “It’s very striking. We have plenty to adjust to, it seems.”

When I look closer, Dad’s and Anise’s faces are bewildered and afraid. This experience must be difficult for them. All they know is that one moment they were in their village with Ma and Waylen, and now they are here without them, and there are dragons in the skies.

“I’m sorry. I should have explained what’s been going on. What is the last thing that you remember before we woke you up?”

Anise purses her lips and thinks. “Mistress Gorran came running across the fields saying that there were dragons in the skies, and they were fighting the Brethren Guard.”

“And after that?”

“I think we must have gone to the edge of the village to see for ourselves. I don’t know. It’s like trying to remember a fading dream.” Her brow furrows, and she shakes her head. “But you, Isavelle. What’s been happening to you? These people call you Lady Isavelle. You are the king’s…mate? But our king is King Alastor, and he’s an old man.”

I take a deep breath as I realize the enormity of everything I have to catch them up on. I’m wrung out from worry over Zabriel and the effort of casting advanced magic. Anise’s questions have brought up terrible memories, but I want to answer as many of them as I can.

Dad places his hand on Anise’s arm. “Hush, now. Your sister is worn out from saving us, and she’s worried about her…husband?”

“Thank you, Dad. But we can talk a little. Zabriel is my mate.” I pull my hair aside and show them the healed-over teeth marks in the back of my neck. “It’s like a husband. These mean we are bonded for life.”

There are a thousand questions in each of their horrified eyes, and I pat my hair back into place. Perhaps I need not go into so many details so soon.

“Did your husband bite you?” Anise asks so loudly that a dozen heads swivel toward us.

Dad clears his throat. “Our curiosity can wait until we’ve all eaten and rested. Your sister looks worn out.” He smiles and brushes my cheek with his thumb. “It is good that we are together at last. Let’s sit down and share a meal.”

We find an empty trestle in the Great Hall and share a meal of bread, soft cheese, and stew. While we eat, I fill them in on a little of what has been happening in Maledin since the Brethren was forced out. They take particular interest in Emmeric, for they too heard mutterings about the Shadow King in the months before Zabriel awoke beneath the mountain.

“I for one won’t miss the Brethren and their stupid Shadow King,” Anise states, dropping her wooden spoon into her empty stew bowl with a clatter.

“Hush, Anise, do not speak so dangerously,” Dad says automatically, and then glances around. “Ah. I suppose we needn’t worry about guarding our tongues about the Brethren any longer.”

“You don’t,” I tell him with a smile. “They’re gone forever.”

“Your mother would be happy to know that they’re no longer keeping you captive in one of their monasteries,” Dad replies.

The smile fades from my face. “Yes, she would. I wish I could have seen her one last time so I could tell her that myself.”

“May we see where they are buried?” Anise asks quietly. “I would like to say goodbye to Ma and Waylen.”

There’s a spasm of pain in my chest. I should have thought of Dad and Anise before deciding what to do with their bodies. In our village, we used to bury our dead and place offerings on our loved ones’ graves, but Ma and Waylen were given dragon rites instead, their bodies burned, and the ashes and sparks beaten by dragon wings and blown up into the heavens.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t. All the villagers who were killed are in the skies.” They both look confused, and I explain about Maledinni last rites. When I’m finished, I feel like there’s a stone laying heavy on my chest. I’ve betrayed them by acting so thoughtlessly.

“So you’re saying Chrissa and Waylen are…everywhere now?” Dad asks, glancing toward the sky that’s visible through doors to the Great Hall. Anise lifts her chin and looks with him.

My throat tight with grief, I nod. “Forever flying. That’s what the Maledinni say. The dead aren’t gone. They’re everywhere around us.”

Dad thinks for a moment. “It’s hard on us, not being able to stand in a spot to pray for them, but Chrissa never liked dark places. She must like this better than being in the ground.”

Anise reaches for his hand and squeezes it, tears in her eyes. “You’re right, and Waylen must like it too. I think he would have loved dragons.”

It doesn’t feel right that Dad and Anise don’t get to partake in some kind of ritual to grieve for our loved ones.

“There is a place where we can go,” I offer. “The Flame Temple. Can I show you how the Maledinni pay their respects to the dead?”

Dad agrees, but then tells me to wait a moment as he wishes to invite the other villagers to come with us. I watch him moving among them, spreading the word that their loved ones who were killed because they possessed Maledinni blood can be honored and remembered in the Maledinni way. I was afraid that I might see disinterest or even disgust on the villagers’ faces, and that they might not want to learn Maledinni traditions, but Dad has a quiet and kind way of explaining things to them. Many of the villagers assemble by the doors to the Great Hall, faces gray with shock and grief, but they want and need to do something to honor their dead.

My eyes are wet with tears as I lead them through the castle to the temple made of black stone. As we approach the door, I see the astonished Temple Crone in her scarlet robes coming forward to find out why so many strangers have come to the temple.

“The villagers of western Maledin wish to remember our dead,” I explain. “I was hoping that the Temple Mothers might show them how it is done.”

The Temple Crone steps back, bowing her head reverently to welcome the villagers. “We are honored. Please, come inside.”