Chapter 12
12
Isavelle
A few hours later in Lenhale, my mate is restless. Zabriel paces up and down the War Room, picking up scrolls containing reports and flinging them down again with a snarl. He’s in a more agitated state than he was before the battle. The undead army crumbling to dust and blowing away on the wind was a relief to many, but Zabriel seems to be taking it as a personal insult. Emmeric cheated him out of a true victory and then fled.
Sundra and Ashton are leaning over the map of Maledin and discussing the best plan to protect the southern borders while Zabriel listens in, his arms folded tightly across his chest. His gaze scours the southern mountains on the other side of the border, and I know he’s wondering whether his enemy fled back into the mountains where he, Emmeric, Mirelle, Onderz, and Stesha first encountered it. Mountains must feel safe and familiar to the undead sorcerer.
There are voices in the corridor, and then in walks Zenevieve, her cheeks tearstained and her face pale. Stesha is just behind her, his expression grave.
I hurry forward and take Zenevieve’s hands in mine. Her flesh is ice cold.
“He’s dead,” she chokes out.
“Who is dead?” I ask her.
“Shar.”
Amid my concern for Zabriel, I had forgotten about Zenevieve and Stesha’s mission to rescue Emmeric’s dragon. I watched Nilak fling boulders at the stone tower until it toppled to the ground, but then the wounded were brought out to us and my attention was all on bandages, blood, and burns.
Zenevieve is crying so hard, she seems incapable of speaking, so I put my arms around her and lead her to a wooden bench.
Zabriel looks to Stesha for an explanation.
“The tower came down easily, and Zen and I were able to reach Shar,” Stesha says, his eyes on Zenevieve. “He was as Lady Isavelle described him, unconscious and manacled, only he wasn’t alone. When we reached him, Emmeric was standing over him with a knife.”
Zabriel’s folded arms loosen in shock. “You actually saw Emmeric? I did not lay eyes on him the entire battle.”
“Saw and spoke with him,” Stesha says, his eyes narrowing with malice. “He was there to kill Shar.”
“But why kill Shar after all this time?” I ask.
“He didn’t want to,” Zenevieve says thickly, brushing tears from her cheeks. “Emmeric was very cruel toward his dragon, but he didn’t want to kill him.”
Zabriel looks to Stesha again for further information.
It takes a long time for the dragonmaster to speak. “Emmeric and that thing inside him seemed to be fighting over it. We wondered if the lich used Shar’s magic somehow, and that’s why the dragon was alive. Maybe it no longer needed his magic, so Shar had to die. I feel like it was testing Emmeric’s loyalty.”
I recall how strangely protective Emmeric was when I discovered the chained dragon. “But Emmeric conceded? He killed Shar?”
Stesha shakes his head. “I drove Emmeric away. The magic in the manacles holding Shar dissipated, but…” Stesha trails off, his lips pressing together as Zenevieve starts to sob. “Shar had been a prisoner too long. All his strength was gone, and we couldn’t save him.”
Zenevieve buries her face in her hands. I stroke her hair, pain in my heart. She was longing to rescue Shar and bring him home where he could be free, and she might have become his new rider. “Zenevieve, I’m so sorry.”
“There’s more,” Zenevieve says through tears. “Seeing Emmeric standing over Shar with a knife in his hand brought back my memories from all those centuries ago. Emmeric killed Minta. He tore her soul core out right in front of me. I felt her die, and it was so horrific that I fell apart. Emmeric put me somewhere in a dark place. Later he woke me up to spy on you all. He cast some kind of spell on me and made me believe I was someone else, and it was easy for him to do because I was so weak and broken.”
As she’s been talking, Stesha has come over to us, and he stands over Zenevieve with a look of pain on his face. The dragonmaster reaches out and touches her hair, but Zenevieve gets to her feet and runs from the room. The strands slip between his fingers, and he’s left staring after her.
“You both did everything that you could,” Zabriel tells him.
Stesha shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have taken Zenevieve with me. It should have just been me, and then maybe I could have killed Emmeric, and she wouldn’t have had to—” Anger suffuses the dragonmaster’s expression, and he looks as though he wants to break something. He strides from the room.
Sadly, I go over to Zabriel and put my hand on his chest. “Do you think Stesha is right, that he could have killed Emmeric today?”
He sighs. “I believe that Stesha believes it. He dearly wanted to avenge Zenevieve for all that Emmeric put her through.”
All he put her through. What a ghastly thought, and she remembers everything now.
“But who can say if he could have managed it? Zenevieve has her memories back, and whether that is a curse or a blessing, only time will tell. I am sorry for both her and Stesha. I would lose my mind if anything like that happened to you. You know that, don’t you?”
I stroke his cheek with my fingers. “Yes, I know.”
“I think I would burn the whole world down, not caring that everyone died, so long as Emmeric was one of them.”
“At least today he’s bleeding.”
“He is?”
“Didn’t you see the blood on Stesha’s white battle armor?” There were bloodstains on Stesha’s right side and sleeve. His sword arm.
Understanding dawns on Zabriel’s face. “No one has been able to touch Emmeric in centuries, but Stesha made him bleed.”
“We will defeat Emmeric. He might be immortal, but he is not infallible.”
It takes several weeks, but eventually Zabriel begins to feel differently about the battle. Better. What changes his mind isn’t his obsessive reading of reports filed by dragonriders and wingrunners, or patrolling the site of the battle on Scourge. It’s that our baby starts to show in my belly.
In bed one morning, Zabriel is caressing my stomach as spring sunshine filters through the curtains. His eyes are closed, and his face is peaceful. Suddenly, he frowns and sits up, fingers splayed across my flesh.
“ Sha’lenla . You…” A smile breaks over his face. “You are round with our child.”
I prop myself up on my elbows and look at myself. I’ve been wondering if my belly is rounder, but it’s difficult to tell when it’s rounded already. This morning, there does seem to be a difference. “I think you’re right.”
He rolls on top of me and kisses me. “It’s all the hard work I’ve been putting in to help the baby grow strong.”
He means us having sex at every opportunity. “Your hard work,” I scoff. “I think most of the hard work growing this baby has been mine.” But I’m smiling as I kiss him.
Zabriel leaves our bed that morning with a lighter step and a straighter back. I think he’s remembered that there are things to look forward to other than the death of the man he once called his brother.
On my last visit to the village, Mistress Hawthorne gave me an armload of fresh herbs and spring cuttings that have various uses for expectant mothers and new babies. I hung them up in little bundles to dry, and now they’re ready to be processed. I spend a pleasant morning with Santha and Posette, grinding up the herbs, measuring them into packets, and making various creams and tinctures.
I’m absentmindedly tugging at my tight bodice when Santha looks up from her work and smiles at me.
“My lady, we must invite the seamstresses to return. Soon none of your clothes will fit.”
I stare at my belly, trying to imagine how it will feel as I grow even bigger and bigger. “At least the weather is becoming warmer so I can put on loose gowns, but I suppose I will have to have things tailored for flying. I hope I still fit on my poor little dragon as the months pass.”
I’m mostly joking. Esmeral might be small for a dragon, but she’s very strong. She helped me carry my siblings’ crib back from Amriste so that I might use it for my own child. I thought Zabriel might object, saying he wanted a much grander piece of furniture for the royal baby, but all he did was admire the craftsmanship, the carving, and the polished wood. Then he kissed the top of my head and told me Omega mothers are the most doting, beautiful mothers, and he was so proud of me. I feel all warm and squishy inside whenever I remember that.
After lunch, I spend time with Esmeral at the dragongrounds, along with Fiala and Dusan. My dragon chirrups and nuzzles at my belly, greeting the baby as well as greeting me. She hasn’t yet shown any sign of nesting outside her heats, but she seems enthusiastic about the prospect of having her own hatchlings.
My escorts and I take the long way back from the dragongrounds and pass by the wyvern eyrie as Fiala wants to check on Kagin. “He’s had a patch of flaky skin on his wing that won’t heal. It always happens when the weather changes.”
The enormous silvery creature is tucked up sleepily in the warm, straw-filled eyrie, and he yawns widely when we approach him, showing off his rows of sharp, glinting teeth. Fiala fusses over him as if he is at death’s door, and Dusan helps her apply lotion to the affected spot by holding his wing. Kagin only snaps at him a little. Dusan tuts good-naturedly at the wyvern, but he doesn’t flinch.
Fiala is smiling as we leave the eyrie. “I think he’s finally getting better.”
I remember how my sister’s eyes became fixed to the skies whenever a wyvern passed overhead. Anise might have as much affinity for the creatures as my bodyguards do. Thinking of my sister, I lift my eyes to the heavens and notice a wyvern returning to the eyrie. I wonder what Anise is doing now, and if the skies above the village feel empty to her now that there are no wings to fill it.
“Who’s that returning?” Dusan asks idly.
We all watch as the wyvern speeds toward the ground.
Fiala says with a gasp, “That’s Keilar. Elysant’s missing wyvern.”
All three of us instantly tense. There’s been no sign of the spellbreaker since she turned traitor and tried to kill me. Her wyvern disappeared as well, presumably with her. Now, the creature is arrowing out of the sky, straight at the eyrie, and someone is on her back.
Fiala and Dusan put themselves protectively in front of me and brandish their halberds. It seems unlikely that Elysant would try to kill me in broad daylight while surrounded by armed Maledinni, but perhaps the woman is desperate.
“Kagin, to me! Wingrunners, there is an enemy incoming,” Fiala calls out. “Protect the king’s mate.”
The half-dozen wingrunners nearby race toward their mounts. Kagin emerges from the eyrie with a snarl and moves lightning fast to his rider’s side. I’ve always been impressed by how fast wyverns and their riders move, and I’ve never been more grateful. Keilar is instantly surrounded by six wingrunners, brandishing their weapons as she comes into land.
The cloaked figure on Keilar’s back is much smaller than the lithe, elegant spellbreaker, and whoever it is, they are far from comfortable riding a wyvern. They let go of the reins, grasp whatever parts of the saddle are closest, and slide in an ungainly fashion down the mount’s side, landing with a plop on the flagstones.
The figure’s cloak falls back, revealing a tumble of red, curly hair, and she looks up into the faces of half a dozen wingrunners brandishing weapons. They don’t recognize her pretty face with its smattering of freckles, but I do, and my heart leaps.
“Ravenna!”
She turns and greets me with a nod. “Well met, Lady Isavelle.”
I run through the knot of wingrunners to embrace her. My fellow witch hugs me back fiercely, and then we’re both laughing. All the soldiers lower their weapons. I grasp her hands and study her face, searching for any sign of injury or mistreatment. I’ve been so worried about her ever since she left with Kane.
“But how did you get here? Where did you find this wyvern? Where is Kane? Are you well?”
Ravenna smiles as I pepper her with questions. “I’m very well, thank you, and I’m alone. This wyvern has been very good to me, though I don’t know why. I…I think it killed its rider. That made me a little nervous, but it’s been nothing but friendly to me.”
Fiala and Dusan exchange glances.
“Is that possible?” I ask them.
“Wyverns understand loyalty,” Dusan tells me. “Once Keilar realized that her rider was a traitor to Maledin, I don’t doubt that she turned on her. Elysant wasn’t a wingrunner, only a spellbreaker, so she probably wasn’t expecting that.”
Keilar hasn’t moved away from Ravenna to seek food and rest within the eyrie. Ravenna glances at the place where the other wyverns are disappearing and says to Keilar, “You may go rest. I’m all right now.”
But Keilar doesn’t budge.
A tall figure pushes through the crowd of wingrunners, his face a mask of surprise that turns swiftly to happiness when he realizes who is making a commotion outside his eyrie.
“We’re so pleased to see you safe and well, Miss Ravenna. Allow me, my lady.” Captain Ashton takes hold of Keilar’s reins. He tries to pass the leather straps to another wingrunner, but Keilar shrieks in defiance and stays where she is. “Keilar has taken a liking to you, my lady. Would you wish to be her rider?” Thanks to the soft expression in Ashton’s eyes, everyone can see that he’s taken a liking to someone as well.
Ravenna is studying the wyvern in confusion. “She belongs to Maledin. I couldn’t ask that of her when my future is so uncertain.”
“But surely you must stay here with us,” he tells her. “You’re safe here.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Fiala and Dusan elbowing each other meaningfully.
Are you seeing this?
Oh, I’m seeing this.
“She did save my life, and I’m so grateful to her,” Ravenna says, gazing at the silver creature before her.
Captain Ashton pats Keilar’s flank, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Ravenna. In this moment, I don’t think anyone else in the world exists for the captain. Unfortunately for him, Ravenna doesn’t seem to notice.
“Was the battle to the south a success?” Ravenna asks, turning to me. “I’ve heard little news while stranded all the way out east.”
Meaning Kane didn’t tell her anything. “Kane did his part,” I admit grudgingly. “Zabriel was able to secure Maledin’s borders, but Emmeric escaped. We don’t know where he fled, but things have been quiet ever since.”
Ravenna lets out a relieved sigh. “I’m glad to hear he performed his duty.”
She has a particular reason to feel relieved. She traded her freedom in exchange for us receiving Kane’s help.
“Where is Kane now?” I ask. But perhaps I shouldn’t ask in front of all these curious people, because if Ravenna has poisoned him to death, they might dislike her for it, not understanding that Kane very much deserves it.
“He’s happy with his dragons,” she replies in a mild tone.
Kane is not only alive, but happy? How disappointing.
“I didn’t know I was going to intrude on you all. When I accepted a ride from this wyvern, I wasn’t sure where it was going to take me. I was only happy to be taken away.”
Hearing this, Ashton seizes a fistful of rousta leaves, a wyvern’s favorite treat, and feeds them to Keilar. “He brought you to safety and friends. You are welcome in Lenhale for as long as you wish to stay.”
A worried line forms between Ravenna’s brows. “I don’t know. It caused you all so many problems when I stayed here last time. Your flare was attacked because of me.”
I squeeze her hand reassuringly. “Witches are protected by the king, and Omegas are protected by all of Maledin. But more than that, you are our loyal friend.”
“Then I would be happy to stay here with you. If you happen to visit your crone again, I would very much like to come with you.”
Over her shoulder, Captain Ashton is smiling and patting Keilar’s flank.
I throw my arms around Ravenna, delight blazing through me. That happy future I dreamed of before Kane took her away is coming true. “This is wonderful news. Zabriel will be thrilled, and my crone will be pleased to welcome you back.”