Dragons Among Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice) (27 page)

Or had Berinon been outsmarted by the evil afoot in Forath’s woods?

Zayne fought the urge to cry out, to let the heavens hear his sorrow. Why? Why had they brought her to him only to steal her away?

He never should have given blind faith so freely to the wizard. Berinon at his core was just a man, and all men were fallible. A lesson the prince had learned this day too little, too late.

A drop of rain fell upon his face, then another, as though the sky was weeping for the prince’s loss. Leaves on the trees above tinkled with the sound of rain falling harder and harder as they walked, and as the damp air settled upon Zayne’s skin, despair settled deeper into his chest.

She was gone.

Oh, the cruel irony of it all. He’d promised to help her return home, and upon rescuing her this day he did just that. And yet, he couldn’t be angry with his sweet Adelaide for leaving. She’d acted with the most noble of intentions when he himself had faltered. And as her last wish was for him to forgive her, he would honor the request. She’d said she loved him, and he would cherish those words the rest of his days.

To her memory he would cling. Always.

Another sharp prod stabbed him in the back, and Zayne lengthened his stride. It would be simple enough to provoke the soldiers around him, he knew. And though he would have welcomed a swift ending to the long and miserable existence that lay before him, Zayne had a responsibility to fulfill. He was Edana’s prince, heir to the throne. And while the heart within his chest had moments ago been shattered, now was neither the time nor the place to show weakness.

Emeline had been right. His birthright had truly become his cross to bear.

The troop around him stepped into the clearing that encircled Forath’s castle then came to a sudden halt. The captain behind him cursed beneath his breath, and Zayne shifted his gaze from the ground to peer out into the pouring rain ahead. On their left was the castle, a formidable structure in its own right. This day it was also flanked by a dozen hissing, screeching dragons poised behind a wall of armored men. At their center a lone warrior sat atop a massive black steed, a cape with Forath’s coat of arms clasped to the man’s back: King Jarin.

But to his surprise Zayne spied another army gathered before the castle. To his right stood a mirror image of dragons, men, and lone, mounted leader. These warriors and dragons, however, were familiar to the prince, as was the lead rider atop the second army’s majestic chestnut steed:

His mother.

Zayne blinked hard and squinted through the falling rain. His
mother
?

“What is the meaning of this?” she cried, gesturing toward Zayne and the guards surrounding him. “Release my son at once!”

“Your son has blasphemed the family of his future bride,” King Jarin snapped. “He attacked our wall, killed a dozen of my men.”

“After your men fired upon ours,” she countered. “
And
on the innocent woman they tried to return to your lands.”

A murmur broke through the crowd, and the dragons flanking Queen Helena hissed and pawed at the ground.

The king exchanged an amused look with the soldier beside him and snorted. “A lie, Your Majesty. Offered by your son to explain away his inexcusable acts.”

Zayne opened his mouth to refute Jarin’s words, but a young warrior at the queen’s side stepped forward. Rowan.

“Queen Helena speaks the truth, Your Majesty,” he called through the rain. “My men and I accompanied Prince Zayne and Lady Adelaide that day. We exchanged horn blasts across the clearing before your wall and were granted passage. But when two of our men rode forward with the girl, archers stationed on Forath’s wall sent arrows to greet them. One of our youngest warriors died as a result. Not until then did the prince react.”

King Jarin’s brows shot skyward. He turned a shrewd look upon the small troop encircling Zayne. “Quinn Blackstone, step forward.”

The man behind Zayne cursed again beneath his breath but did as he was ordered. He stopped before the king and bowed low to the ground. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Edana’s queen and her soldier—do you deny their claims?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny his statement, sire, as I was not there.”

“I was there,” called out a young archer among the group surrounding Zayne. Quinn turned and cast a dark look upon him.

“Come forward, man,” Jarin said, a fury simmering beneath his words. “What say you?”

The archer also bowed before his king. “They speak the truth, Your Majesty. We fired on the group when the order was given.”

“I gave no such instruction to the royal guard. Who in bloody hell went against my orders?” the king roared.

“I did.”

A collective gasp rose throughout the crowd as Rosalind stepped forward from their group. King Jarin swiveled toward her, his skin flushed a dark scarlet.

“What have you done? I pledge your hand in marriage to bring peace, yet you go behind my back and attempt to thrust us into war?”

“But the girl is an evil witch, Father, here to exact more revenge upon our family! She cast a spell on Zayne and disguised herself as one of our own, so that my marriage to the prince would never come to pass!”

Lies, all of it, yet the king’s features began to soften. Zayne could hold his tongue no longer. “Adelaide is not a witch! She is—”

“Silence!” King Jarin’s words pierced through the rain and ricocheted off the walls of forest around them. Both groups did as he commanded. “Where is the girl now? Bring her before me so that I may see this disguise for myself.”

“No, Father!” Rosalind rushed forward and threw herself onto the damp earth at the feet of his steed. “She has fooled them all. She shall fool you too!”

King Jarin threw her a look of impatience. “I will be the judge of that. Now bring the girl to me.”

“But she is gone, stolen by Edana’s high wizard just moments ago,” said Quinn, who turned away from the king and fixed his gaze upon Zayne. “Though as the prince was the one to find the girl, perhaps he also holds the power to summon her back.”

All eyes in the clearing shifted to Zayne.

The rain came to an abrupt stop.

* * * * *

Addie sat partway down the grassy berm, elbows on her knees and hands in her hair. She’d done the right thing, she told herself over and over. Spared countless lives from the cruelty of war.

So why did doing the right thing hurt so unbearably much?

Each time she closed her eyes, Zayne was there again, reaching for her with that look of disbelief upon his face. And each time the image came, her heart shattered into another million pieces. Would he ever be able to forgive her for leaving?

Could she ever forgive herself?

Addie hugged her knees tighter to her chest. In all the years she’d worked and traveled solo, she’d never felt so alone. Avoiding long-term relationships—heck, even short-term ones—had worked to keep her heart safe. No expectations, no disappointments. She didn’t need love to make her feel complete, she could find happiness all on her own.

And then came Zayne.

A bitter laugh escaped her. What a fool she had been…

With a ragged breath, Addie rose to her feet. What was done, was done, there was no going back. She’d made her decision, had put the welfare of two kingdoms above the desires of her feeble heart. Two kingdoms that, a week ago, she hadn’t known existed. Her choice had been made with the best of intentions, unselfish, and yet the hollow feeling in her chest refused to go.

Deep down, she knew it never would.

“If you are quite finished with all this wallowing, my lady, we have a prince to save.”

Addie spun to find Berinon peering out at her from behind the nearest hedgerow. She rubbed her eyes. It couldn’t be. She refused to let hope take root in her chest. Nothing but a grief-induced hallucination. When she looked again, he was gone.

With a snort she turned back toward the east…and found Berinon blocking her path.

“Berinon?” She reached a hesitant hand to poke at his emerald robe. He sure felt real.

“In the flesh, my lady.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled from her lips. “So it seems. But why? I…I asked you to help me get home and you did.”

“Aye, this is indeed what you asked of me. But you are not quite there.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped. “Well, thanks, but you don’t need to help me get back to Indiana. I’ll earn the money for a plane ticket somehow.”

Berinon stepped forward and placed his hands upon her shoulders, his emerald-green eyes blazing into hers. “Adelaide, where you grew up is not where you belong. Indiana is not the true land of your ancestors.”

“What does that even mean?” She stepped back and watched his hands fall gracefully to his sides. “God, I must be hallucinating. Again. Or…or still.”

“I assure you, Addie, this is entirely real.” Quick as a whip, Berinon reached out and gave a lock of her hair a solid tug. She yipped in response. “The question is, are you ready to hear the whole story?”

She swatted his hand away. “The whole story? Y-you rip me away from here, drop me into some scary, wolf-infested forest—
wolf-infested
, Berinon—so some betrothed prince can find me, then plot to keep us together long enough that we’ll fall in love while two kingdoms prepare for war.” A humorless laugh escaped her. “What could I have possibly missed?”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Do you love Prince Zayne?”

“Yes.” Her chest tightened at the mention of his name. “With all my heart and soul, yes.”

“Then give me your hand,” Berinon said. “And all your questions shall be answered.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Zayne squinted up at the sunlight snaking its way through clouds that but a moment before had been dark and weeping. Never had he seen a rainstorm pass so quickly. As his gaze fell back to the Earth, he found all eyes remained focused upon him, expectant.

“’Tis true, I was the one who found her in your forests.” He avoided Rosalind’s murderous gaze. “But I lack the power to summon her back. Only the most powerful of magics can do that.”

“Lies,” the princess hissed.

“Silence.” King Jarin threw her a scathing look, then shifted his gaze back to Zayne. “Where is she now?”

“I would presume, Your Majesty, that the girl has returned to the same lands where she was sent after being stolen from your royal nursery twenty-some years ago. Another realm, one beyond the reach of your wizard’s seeking spells.”

Gasps and murmurs sprang forth from Forath’s troops, which quickly developed into cries of outrage. King Jarin raised a shaky hand, and his men fell silent once more.

“I am afraid you have been tricked, Prince Zayne. My daughter,” he said, his voice breaking on the word, “Tristan’s twin sister, did not survive that fateful night.”

“But she did,” Zayne said, his gaze unwavering from the king’s. “I swear it.”

“He speaks the truth,” called the queen. “Our high wizard confided as much in me just last night.”

King Jarin’s eyes narrowed. “And where exactly is this wizard of yours?”

“He has vanished as well,” Quinn muttered.

“Has he?” said the king. “How convenient.”

Jarin dismounted and gestured for his troops to bring Zayne to him. Hands clamped onto each of his arms and proceeded to drag him forward. Though it would have taken but a moment to transform and escape, the prince refrained. A transformation now would bring immediate retaliation, and he dared not put his mother in such danger. He shifted his gaze to her and felt his chest fill with pride. Instead of cringing away from the situation, he found her chin high and gaze dark and unbending. The role of leader fit her surprisingly well.

Quinn’s soldiers brought Zayne before the king and forced him to his knees. He heard his mother begin to protest, but Jarin held up his hand once more. “My kingdom, Your Majesty, my rules.” His tone was weary but laced with impatience as he turned his gaze unto Zayne. “Summon the wizard to return, with the girl. Now.”

“It cannot be done,” he whispered, his gaze falling to the ground.

“I do not believe you heard me correctly, Prince Zayne. I say again, summon the wizard and girl back.
Now.
”

Zayne met his fiery gaze. “It cannot be done.”

“Very well,” the king said after a long moment and held out his hand. “Tristan? Your sword.”

“Yes, Father.”

Zayne’s gaze flashed to the soldier standing at Jarin’s right-hand side. The likeness to Addie was so striking—his crystalline blue eyes, the slope of his nose, the line of his jaw—that it stole the air from Zayne’s very chest. And like Addie, Tristan’s gaze held neither the anger nor indignation of his half sister or father, but a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

Jarin took his son’s weapon in hand and scanned its shiny length. “You shall bring them to me,” he said, his voice deadly calm. “Refuse me again, and I will take your hand.”

“No!” cried the queen.

One of Jarin’s soldiers stepped forward and placed a chopping block before Zayne. Fear curdled in his stomach. Without his hand, he would never fly again. The beast surged within him, but he fought for control. He wouldn’t bring harm to his mother, no matter the cost. There had to be another way. He spoke again, to buy more time to weigh his options. “Please, Your Majesty, you ask of me a task I am unable to—”