Chapter 20
Zenevieve
Tears are streaming from my eyes as Minta and I fly through the skies, from the pain in my body and the pain in my heart.
Stesha’s stricken expression as he saw me will not leave my mind.
For weeks I lay near death, and the only thing keeping me from giving up were thoughts of my dragon, and my anger and hurt for the man I foolishly trusted with my heart.
I thought I would feel relief after I finally said all I wanted to say to him, but my heart feels hollower than ever.
My dragon gives a keening cry, for she feels everything that I am feeling, just as I have felt her loneliness the past weeks without me.
Minta notices a figure below on an empty country road. A man on a horse, his long white hair streaking behind him. From the breadth of his shoulders, he’s an Alpha, and a jolt of recognition goes through me.
I urge Minta downward, and we fly past the man on his horse.
Oren’s eyes widen as he sees me, and he raises a hand to me and slows his horse.
Curious about what he wishes to say, I bring Minta down to land on the road ahead.
It takes me a long time to dismount, my weak muscles screaming in protest, and black spots dancing before my eyes.
My whole body feels clammy with cold sweat, and I wonder if I’m about to faint.
I hear Oren jog toward me. “Do you have news, my lady? Were you sent after me?”
My feet finally touch the ground, and I turn to him, panting, “Oren, what are you doing out here?”
“I’m taking a message to southern towns. Riders have been sent to every corner of…” He trails off as he sees my face.
I know what I look like. I asked a Temple Maiden to bring me a looking glass before I left their care. I saw the horror of my visage and the thinness of my body. I look like I should be in a coffin.
“Zenevieve, who did this to you?” Oren demands, his voice roughened with emotion. He lifts a large hand toward my cheek and touches me gently, as though he’s afraid I’ll crumble to pieces, and pity fills his eyes.
“I have been unwell,” I manage to say, though his kindness makes me choke up, and fresh tears fill my eyes.
“Unwell? Unwell? This is lavish sickness. Tell me his name, and I will make him pay.” He takes my face between his big hands and gazes at me with so much tender sadness that all the anger I’ve been desperately clinging to falls away, and I’m overwhelmed by grief.
Tears spill down my cheeks, and my shoulders shake.
“Oh, little one. Come here.” He gathers me into his arms and holds me close, his body heat warming my frozen body.
Cradling me carefully, he says, “I have seen several Betas with lavish sickness in my time, and it always breaks my heart. It was that white-haired Alpha, wasn’t it?
The dragonmaster. I heard he could be fierce, but I never imagined he could abuse you like this. ”
I have long since ceased to think of Oren as a substitute for Stesha.
They are entirely different men with different natures.
I do not imagine that it’s Stesha holding me, but I take comfort in him just the same.
As Oren cradles me against him and rocks me in his arms, I’m grateful that he is an island of solace amid so much pain.
“He—he didn’t mean for it to happen. I-I stole his clothes, and he didn’t stop me. I just missed his scent so much. And then—and then we spent his rut together, and after, he told me that he was waiting for his Omega.”
Oren snorts in derision and mutters a string of curses about the dragonmaster.
“It was just one rut,” I sniffle. “We didn’t know it was going to make me so sick.” After all that’s happened, why am I anxious that no one thinks badly of Stesha? As angry as I am, I can’t find it in my heart to speak badly of him to anyone but himself.
Oren holds me for a long time, stroking my hair.
“Do you still wish for a mate, little one?” he murmurs.
“Your sore heart is aching for the dragonmaster, but in time, when the ache passes, perhaps you may consider me. I’m told I’m handsome.
I own a nice little house in Lenhale. I would always treasure you and your dragon.
Honor you. Pleasure you. Fight for you.”
My eyes widen as my cheek rests against his chest. “But you, um, have so many admirers at the ruthouse.”
“I do,” he agrees with a laugh. “But I tire of that lately. I’m nearly twenty-five. It’s time I was mated, and I think I could grow very fond of you.”
I look up at him in surprise.
He smiles. “Don’t answer me now. I know you must heal your body and your heart. Though I am but a lowly soldier, I will seek you out and court you, my pretty green-eyed dragonrider. You can throw my offerings of flowers and bad poetry at my feet while I pursue you all over the city.”
I think he’s only flirting with me to make me smile, but it works. My lips twitch in amusement. He presses a kiss to my forehead, and then his eyes grow somber.
“But today I must continue on my journey. Prince Emmeric could be anywhere in Maledin, and the southern towns must be informed. A wingrunner would be faster than me on my horse, but they have all been sent to… Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Prince Emmeric has returned?” I gasp, pulling myself from Oren’s arms. “Then I need to get back to the flare. The king will have orders for us.”
His expression is bleak. “Little one, do you not know?”
“Know what?”
“King Aylard and Queen Magritte are dead. Prince Emmeric murdered them. Prince Zabriel has pursued him with an army into the Bodan Mountains.”
As soon as he says it, there’s a loud crack from the north, a deafening thunderclap, though there has been no lightning.
Minta hunches her wings and gives a soft, fearful cry. I feel as though something terrible has happened, and a cold shiver passes through me.
“Then I must find Prince Zabriel and join him.” With the king and queen both dead, the capital may have fallen, and Zabriel could be dead as well. The whole family wiped out by the former prince. “Was the dragonmaster and his white dragon part of the army that went into the mountains?”
Oren shakes his head. “I don’t know. I would imagine that Prince Zabriel would have wanted the most experienced riders with him.”
Yes, he would have. I start breathing faster, and panic claws at my chest. I told Stesha that his heart is made from ice. I told him that I’d never forgive him, and those could be the last words he ever hears from me.
“I must go north,” I gasp, and run for Minta.
But the air shimmers between me and my dragon, and though it should be impossible, a familiar figure in the robes of a mage, instead of the expensive attire of a prince, steps out of nowhere.
Emmeric smiles a crafty, pointed smile as he sees me. “There you are. I wondered where you could have got to when I didn’t see you among the dragon army.”
That thunderclap a moment ago echoes in my ears, and I feel a horrible premonition. “What have you done to the dragon army?”
His gaze flicks up and down my body, taking in all the signs that I’ve been ravaged by lavish sickness. Then he laughs. “Look at what he’s done to you. Tell me, are you regretting giving him your heart instead of me?”
“After what you did to Mirelle? Not for a moment.”
Behind me, I hear the sound of a sword being unsheathed. Oren steps protectively in front of me, his expression thunderous.
Emmeric takes in Oren’s white hair and his height and breadth. He gives me a pitying look. “Really, Zenevieve? You have whored yourself out to this pale imitation of the dragonmaster? You are so pathetic.”
“You will not speak to her in this manner. I’m warning you only once. Surrender, or I will cut you down whether you are armed or not.”
“Oren, be careful. I think he’s dangerous.”
Emmeric smiles wider, and I wonder if it’s my imagination, but for a moment I see green flames flicker in his eyes. “Turn and walk away, soldier. Maledin is mine now, and things are going to be very different from now on. I’m taking the lady with me.”
Ice water floods my veins as I remember what he did to Mirelle. I’m not carrying my sword. I’ve been unable to lift it since I’ve been sick.
“You will not,” Oren says through his teeth, pointing the tip of his sword at Emmeric. He reaches out and grasps me tightly by the hand. He must be able to smell the panic in my scent. “It’s all right, I won’t let him hurt—”
Oren breaks off with a sharp intake of breath. Emmeric has lifted his hand. There is a strange flash of light, and when I turn to Oren, I see that a bloody, dripping hole has been punched right through his chest, and I can see daylight on the other side.
Oren’s hand on mine tightens and then goes limp. He stares at me in bewilderment, trying to speak but unable to, and then he crumples to the ground. Dead.
I know he must be dead because no one can survive with a hole in their chest, but I can’t comprehend what is happening.
Minta screams and lunges at Emmeric, teeth first. The former prince waves his hand, and a lightning bolt hits her, paralyzing her body. I scream as the pain she’s feeling slams into me. My dragon can’t move, can’t fight, and neither can I.
Emmeric draws a long knife out of nowhere, raises the blade, and thrusts it into Minta’s chest. With supernatural strength, he pulls the knife downward, ripping her open.
With blood-covered hands, he reaches in and tugs something out.
Something glowing. Her soul core. The part of Minta that makes her a dragon.
Her jaws are parted in a silent scream. I feel her die, but the lightning keeps her aloft, like a puppet on strings.
Emmeric has ripped her soul from her body, and what feels like mine along with it. I fall to my knees, and the world goes black.