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

Chapter 10

10

Isavelle

“ I trust my dragon with my queen. Can you trust Auryn near your Omega?” Zabriel asks Kane.

I follow the conversation between the two Alphas with my heart in my mouth. Zabriel’s right. If Auryn goes on a rampage, it won’t just be Kane who’s in danger. Ravenna could be killed as well. I remember how the red-headed young woman was fearful of the flare, especially a dragon of Scourge’s size. She’d probably already had some near misses with Auryn.

“Where is Ravenna?” I ask Kane.

Kane’s dark eyes flick to me, and then back to Zabriel. “By the way, I expected you to send spies, though I didn’t imagine they’d be so stupid.”

“I have sent no spies. Of what are you speaking?” Zabriel replies.

“That hag in red robes. She’s been sniffing around my dragons.”

“Do you mean Elysant the spellbreaker? A young woman in red robes.”

“Just call a hag a hag. She was one of a pair I humiliated when they tried to kill me with their useless magic. Keep her away from my dragons, or Auryn will rip her to pieces.”

“I no longer give Elysant orders. She’s a wanted traitor who tried to kill me and my mate.”

“A shame she didn’t try harder.” Kane flicks a hateful glare at me and then turns to go. “See you in five days. Make sure you kill the Shadow King because I won’t bring that barrier down a second time.”

“Wait,” I call after him. “You have to at least promise us Ravenna is safe.”

“I have to promise you nothing, witch. I don’t need you. You need me.”

“You want the man who is responsible for the Brethren dead as much as I do. I know how much you hate them.”

They treated Kane with nothing but cruelty, force-feeding him addictive drugs and flaying the flesh from his back when he disobeyed. He still carries those scars.

A muscle tics in Kane’s jaw as he glowers over his shoulder at me. Without another word, he disappears into the rocks and trees. A moment later, Auryn flies into the air, and the other yellow dragons follow him.

Zabriel climbs up onto Scourge and throws his leg over his dragon so that he is seated behind me.

“Could you catch Ravenna’s scent anywhere?” I ask, feeling heavyhearted that I came all this way without laying eyes on Ravenna or even being assured that she is alive and well.

“On Kane. A fresh scent, so you can be assured that she lives.”

That’s something at least.

Zabriel wraps his strong arms around me, and I nestle into his chest, seeking the comfort of his body. Ravenna is a witch, I remind myself. She’s smart and strong, and she will survive. She need only hang on a little longer, and then she can be free of her cruel Alpha forever.

We sit quietly atop Scourge for a moment, holding on to each other. I’m so grateful for our love.

“Tomorrow I will travel with the villagers and help them resettle in their homes.”

“I will miss you, sha’lenla ,” Zabriel murmurs, holding me tight. His hand splays against my belly. “I will miss both of you.”

I reach up and stroke the side of his neck. “We will miss you, too.” I will be absent from Lenhale for at least three days, as I will travel there on foot and by horse and cart, the same as the villagers, and then fly home on Esmeral just before the southern battle commences.

“Every day, Maledin is a little freer. Do you feel it?” I ask him.

“It is different to the Maledin I once knew, sha’lenla . But yes, I feel it. I will keep going until all our people are safe.”

“Do you ever wish for Maledin to return to the way it used to be?” Few humans. More Maledinni with designations.

“Even if I wished it, it wouldn’t be possible without a great deal of upheaval, pain, and misery. There’s cruelty in my bloodline, and that cruelty would have to sit upon the throne.”

“You’re not like that. None of that cruelty lives in your heart.”

“Yet I have worried that it might be awoken by power, as it was in my father, or the lust for it, as with my brother.” He strokes my belly. “I have seen so much bloodshed and violence. For the sake of our little one, I hope that Maledin will soon be whole and at peace, and we can lay down our swords. Now, let’s go home.”

I thought every villager would be happy to return to their western home, but there is one downcast face among the travelers who have assembled by the castle gates.

My own sister’s.

Anise keeps looking around and up at the steep walls of the castle, and I wonder if she’s become so attached to this place that she doesn’t wish to leave. It’s not until Fiala and Dusan arrive on their mounts and Anise’s face brightens that I realize what she’s really going to miss. Before Fiala has even dismounted, Anise rushes over, digging rousta leaves out of her backpack and offering them to Kagin.

Wyverns are bony, black-eyed, sharp-teethed creatures that can move as fast as lightning and rip someone’s arm off before they can blink. I seize my skirts in panic, and I’m about to run over and shout a warning, but Kagin calmly eats the proffered leaves and then preens Anise’s skirt good-naturedly like he would his own wing. Anise laughs.

As Fiala and Dusan dismount, I remind my sister, “Be respectful around other people’s mounts. Always ask permission before approaching.”

Fiala beams fondly at my sister. “It’s all right, Lady Isavelle. I told Lady Anise she may feed Kagin whenever she wishes. He’s the friendliest boy in the eyrie.”

As Anise pats Kagin’s flank, he scrapes his long talons against the flagstones.

“See? What a big softie,” Fiala says.

I suppose this is how others must feel when they see me with my arms wrapped around Esmeral or gently stroking Scourge’s scales. Like I’m stupidly flirting with danger when I know the dragons mean me no harm. If Fiala says it’s all right for Anise to treat Kagin like a cuddly toy, then I believe her.

Zabriel arrives at the gate wearing full plate armor and a black cloak lined with crimson. It’s how he looked the first time I ever saw him, and I can’t help the smile and blush that spreads across my face seeing him look so handsome.

He greets my father and Anise respectfully, and I can tell they’re impressed by his kingly bearing, before pulling me gently into his arms and giving me a kiss. “I wish you a good journey, sha’lenla , and a speedy return to my arms.”

“I will miss you every moment I’m gone. But why the armor? Has there been a report from your soldiers?” I ask anxiously.

“It’s merely routine. I am flying battle maneuvers with my dragonriders to prepare for what lies ahead.” Zabriel kisses me one last time, squeezes me tight in his big arms, and whispers, “My teeth will miss your flesh yielding so sweetly for me.”

“And I will miss you,” I whisper. “Every moment until I return.”

I kiss my mate once more and then leave his side to join the others.

Santha and Posette, former Veiled Virgins who have been working as my lady’s maids, are joining us on this journey. They know better than anyone how it feels to be liberated from the oppressive Brethren only to be confronted by a strange new king and dragons in the skies, and they’ve been a comfort to the villagers.

As we head out the castle gates, I wave one last goodbye to Zabriel until his tall, dark-haired figure slips out of sight.

The traveling party is a long caravan of walkers, pack donkeys, and horse-drawn carts. Santha and Posette move among the villagers, answering questions and giving comfort where needed. Fiala, Dusan, and several more wingrunners patrol the skies above us, keeping us safe.

The sun is shining, and it feels good to be going home. I won’t be staying in Amriste, but it feels so good to be among my own people again, listening to their chatter as they wonder what state their fields and vegetable gardens will be in, who will be running the bread ovens and smithy, and what celebrations are upcoming. There are several dozen soldiers among the walkers who will help restore the farms of the towns and villages over the coming months, and their pack donkeys carry food to replace what was left to rot on the vine or what hasn’t been grown while the villagers were being held in the ethereal plane. Thankfully it’s early enough in the year that some crops can be harvested this autumn if they’re put in the ground quickly.

After two days of walking, a little group splits off from the main caravan and takes the road to Amriste, and I join them. Fiala and Dusan are our wingrunner escorts. There’s excitement on people’s faces as we walk along family tracks and the fields and trees that we’ve known all our lives.

Anise comes to walk beside me, her eyes following Kagin through the skies. Out of nowhere, she asks, “Are you really a witch?”

I glance at my sister, trying to gauge her tone and hoping she won’t be fearful of me. “What makes you ask that?”

“Everyone tells me that my sister, the future queen, is a witch, and it just makes sense. Ma always said you talked to things that weren’t there or were far away. You were always getting upset about the Bodan Mountains. We talked about you a lot after the Brethren took you away. Ma and Dad missed you so much.”

“I missed you all as well, so much. And yes, I’m a witch. It’s not against the law to be a witch now, though some people still don’t trust us.”

As we approach the village, I wonder if Biddy Hawthorne, my crone, might come and meet us. There’s no sign of her as we enter the little square with the well, but there are half a dozen crows perched atop walls and gates of the neglected cottages. Biddy doesn’t often leave her cottage, so she uses the birds as her eyes and ears.

Dad addresses one with a polite nod as he passes by. “Afternoon, Mistress Hawthorne.”

The bird ruffles his feathers in greeting.

“You knew?” I ask Dad in surprise. “All this time, you knew Biddy was a witch?”

“Oh, yes, my girl. We all knew. And right helpful to us she’s been over the years, tending to the sick and old and expecting mothers. We’d never have given her up to the witchfinders. Out here, who else is there to help us?”

A warm feeling fills me. A sense of being home, but also, I feel accepted here in a way I don’t quite feel in the big city of Lenhale. How wonderful to be a witch in the countryside.

The three of us arrive at the doorstep of our cottage, and how neglected it looks with dead leaves scattered on the doorstep and all the garden overgrown with weeds. How forlorn it feels when we enter, when there are signs of Ma and Waylen all around us. Her cross-stitch on the walls. His wooden horse toy in the corner.

“If it is too painful to remain here, you needn’t live in Amriste,” I tell them. “We can find a new home for you anywhere. In the capital if you wish, or in a town closer to Lenhale.”

Dad shakes his head. “It’s a kind offer, but Amriste is our home. I was born here, and I’ll die here.”

“You will visit us often, won’t you?” Anise asks.

I smile at her. “Of course I will. You’re both here, and my crone is as well. You’re just a short dragon ride from Lenhale.”

We set to work making the cottage feel homely again. Anise sweeps the floors while I dust the surfaces and clean the windows, and Dad fetches firewood to fill the stove. There are beds to be made with fresh linen and a pot of grain stew with lardons to be cooked for our supper. Soon the cottage feels warm again, and filled with the scent of woodsmoke and cooking food.

Toward sunset, I fill a basket with food we brought from the palace, including bread and cheese and preserved fruit, and a serving of the hot grain stew in an earthenware jar. “I will take this food to Mistress Hawthorne and see if there is anything I may do for her,” I tell Anise. “Would you like to come with me?”

“Oh, yes,” she asks eagerly. “Ma didn’t like it when I talked to Mistress Hawthorne because she was afraid the Brethren would get me.”

We head out the front door into the golden evening. The birds are chattering madly to each other in the trees, sharing the day’s gossip as they all gather to roost. “Remember that you must call her Mistress Hawthorne and treat her with respect, or she’ll have you counting the raindrops in a bucket of water or combing the grass in the meadow.”

Anise giggles. “Is that what she makes you do?”

“That and more. Life as an apprentice witch is no plate of apple fritters.”

“But you’re the next Queen of Maledin.”

“Not in Mistress Hawthorne’s cottage, I’m not.” We arrive at Biddy’s front gate, and I open it for Anise and then step through. In many ways, it’s a relief to be just Isavelle here. I wouldn’t give up Zabriel and my future with him for anything, but here I’m free from the weight of thousands of people’s expectations.

“It’s me, Mistress Hawthorne,” I call as I knock on the ancient front door, and when she croaks a reply, I let us in. My crone is seated in her old, threadbare armchair by the fire, picking dried blossoms from an armload of cuttings. Her old black dress is faded and patched, but she’s always refused my offer of the seamstresses at the castle making her any new clothes. “Do you remember my sister, Anise?”

There’s no need to inform Biddy that the villagers are home. The crows tell her all that they see and hear.

Anise beams at her. “Hello, Mistress Hawthorne.”

“Welcome home, girl. Fetch a stool, and help me with these plants. I’m making a remedy. The brambles have overgrown the gardens and laneways, and I’ll have every child in the village through my door with stings and scrapes by the end of the week. Isavelle, there’s fresh tea in the pot. Thank you for the basket, you can leave it by the stove.”

I find some cups to fill with tea and join my sister on a stool. As she and Biddy pick flowers and drop them into a basket, I fish handfuls out and grind them with a mortar and pestle into a paste that’s good for cuts.

“Mistress Hawthorne, are you going to teach Isavelle any magic today?” Anise asks.

“Magic is for pompous warlocks who wear silly robes. We do good, sensible witchcraft here, and mayhap I will. What would my young witch wish to learn?” Mistress Hawthorne eyes me with a grizzled, raised eyebrow.

I get what I’m given when I come to see Mistress Hawthorne, so this is an unusually generous offer. I think about it carefully. “I should like to see. There are stories about queens and witches and fairy godmothers who look into mirrors and ponds and can see the present or the future, so I know it’s possible.”

“But that’s just something that happens in stories,” Anise protests.

“Fairy tales can be real. My mate is in one,” I tell her.

“Is he?”

“Oh, yes. He’s the king from The Mountain Prisoner .”

“Never,” Anise breathes. “Is he?” She stares vacantly across the room as she no doubt recites the tale to herself.

Biddy sets a saucer in front of me, pours in some water, and then adds a few drops of something from a tiny bottle, and the water turns black. “It’s nothing special. Just some ink in water, but very useful if you have the gift of sight, as you do. What do you wish to see, girl?”

My journey with Zabriel to the wild eastern flare has Ravenna uppermost in my mind. “I wish to know if Ravenna is well.”

Biddy clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “Bad manners it is to spy upon a fellow witch.”

“It is my last intention to spy. I only wish to know that Kane hasn’t hurt her. Don’t you think she would understand my concern for her?”

Biddy sniffs and keeps picking over the dried flowers. “Do you not trust her?”

“Of course I do, but…” I feel responsible for Ravenna as a fellow witch, a fellow Omega, and the future Queen of Maledin. Shouldn’t I be able to do something for her in one of these roles? If I do nothing, am I not neglectful?

Anise is nibbling on her lower lip and gazing at me with big eyes in a way that tells me she wishes to say something.

“What are you thinking? I wish more than anything to untangle my thoughts about this matter.”

“I was remembering the day that the Brethren came to the village and took you away to be a Veiled Virgin. A whole year you were tithed to them, and I woke every morning knowing that they had taken you in my place, and I felt like it was all my fault. I prayed that it would be undone, and you would come home, and that I could know whether you were suffering because of me. I would have done anything to know what was happening to you. So I understand your worry about your friend.”

Anise felt guilty and ashamed that I was taken away instead of her? I had no idea that my sister felt this way. “I never wished that I had done anything differently, Anise. But I understand how hard that must have been for you.”

“If you do see Ravenna, will it change anything? If she is suffering, can you save her?”

Biddy casts me a dark look. “If she is intimate with her mate, will you judge her?”

I wince. I hadn’t thought of that. Who knows what Ravenna is having to do to survive with Kane. She may be mortified if she knows anyone has witnessed her allowing him to hold her, or even more than that.

Ravenna chose to go with Kane. She survived as a witch for many years under the Brethren. They hunted her with witchfinders who would have burned her alive had they found her, but she evaded them all until Kane found her. I know little of the circumstances of her capture, and it’s likely that it was terrifying and brutal. But she still lives.

I gaze at the saucer of black ink. Seeing is power, and even the tiniest bit of power seems to come with a great tangle of considerations and dilemmas. Apparently it’s just as hard to be a witch as a queen, and I’m still learning how to do both.

“You’re both right. I seek to know how she fares for my own sake, not hers. At this moment, I can do nothing for her. I will respect Ravenna’s decision and her privacy.” But if Ravenna is killed by her Alpha, I will never forgive him or myself. “Thank you both for helping me with this.”

“We are your coven, girl. It’s what we’re here for, to give counsel.”

“Me as well?” Anise asks in surprise.

“You’re doing witch’s work tonight, girl.”

I smile, gazing at both their faces in the flickering firelight. The room is cozy, and my thoughts feel lighter now that they have helped me clear my head. There is space in this room for Ravenna, and in my heart, and I won’t lose hope that someday soon she will be here with us. She’s been alone and frightened for so long, but one day she’ll be able to come in from the cold. Please, let it be sooner rather than later.

Biddy brushes dead stalks from her lap and asks me, “Is there not someone else you wish to see at this moment? It’s easier to scry with a fond heart than a stormy one.”

I gaze at the reflective surface of the water and think of Zabriel. “Yes, there is. I always wish to see him when I am parted from him, and I know that he will always welcome me.”

“Then sit closer, girl. Sink into this mirrored world and seek him out.”