As I turn toward the bridge over the dragongrounds, I see a small figure moving toward us through the darkness.
“Dragonmaster?” a voice quavers, and I realize it’s Queen Magritte. “I could wait inside for news no longer.”
My throat locks with grief seeing her tearstained face. Her eyes move past me to the weeping dragonriders and her desolated son, and I don’t need to say a word. Queen Magritte crumples to the ground in a wail of despair.
“My daughter. My little girl. What did he do to you?”
I’m not supposed to lay a hand on her. She’s the queen and another Alpha’s mate, but right now, all I see is a weeping Omega lying in the dust, and after the day’s events, I can’t bear it. I lift Queen Magritte into my arms and carry her back up to the castle. Her scent is thick with heartbreak. Two children lost to her, one from death, and the other from his own vile actions. I wish I could take this pain away from her, but no one can.
I lay the queen on a sofa in her sitting room and leave her in the care of her attendants.
Seeking out the king, I find him in one of his private rooms, lounging on an upholstered chair with a steaming cup at his elbow. I feel my lip curl. How comfortable he seems while all his kingdom is in turmoil.
King Aylard despises when his subjects hesitate, and I’m in no mood to draw this out. I incline my head respectfully. “I have grave news,Ma’len. Princess Mirelle has thrown herself from her dragon and perished, and Prince Emmeric has fled. The dragonriders are in pursuit, but there has been no sign of him yet.”
There’s a long, icy silence.
King Aylard slowly gets to his feet and approaches me. “Why is my mate’s scent all over you, dragonmaster?”
I open my mouth to tell him that the queen collapsed on the dragongrounds, but before I can speak, the king picks up a heavy gold ornament of one of his ancestors and strikes me across the face with it.
My head snaps painfully to the side. My lip splits, and the salty tang of blood fills my mouth.
“You dare touch my mate?” he asks.
Anger boils through me. I daredhelphis mate when he should have been the one consoling her. While all the dragonriders and wingrunners were trying to save his daughter and pursue his vile son, the king sat in this room, drinking tea. While I feared that Zenevieve would suffer the same terrible fate and put my dragon in peril by skirting a lightning storm, the King of Maledin did nothing.
And this is the man I am bound to serve.
I swallow down my fury before I turn back to the king so that he doesn’t see the rage in my eyes. “I apologize,Ma’len,” I say through gritted teeth.
Princess Mirelle’s screaming and sobbing is ringing in my ears, and the sight of her bloody legs is vivid in my mind’s eye. I am sick to my stomach of standing by doing nothing while those who are meant to be under our protection are suffering.
King Aylard’s nostrils flare as he casts his eyes over me, as though he suspects my insolent thoughts. “That boy stole one of my dragons and caused the deaths of two more. Find him and bring him back here to be punished.”
A guard tellsme that Zenevieve has taken Prince Zabriel to the Great Hall, and so I follow her there. I won’t be able to sleep tonight without knowing she’s safe in our home with meguarding her locked bedroom door.He called me Zenevieve.Those sickening words keep going around and around in my head.
As soon as I enter the hall, I hear a sharp cry, and Zenevieve hurries over to me. “Stesha! What has happened to you?”
I capture her hands as she reaches up to touch my face. I had forgotten that my lip and chin are bloody. “It is nothing. I’m all right.”
“But—”
I pull her into my arms and hold her tight, needing to soothe my racing heart with assurance that she’s safe and unhurt. I rest my cheek against the top of her head and her lovely scent drives away the day’s misery for a moment. But only for a moment.
The misery edges back as I recall the king’s orders. While teaching trainees to ride, many of them complain that I put the dragons’ feelings before theirs, and it’s true. I’m always thinking of the well-being of the flare. That is my duty. But for a father to put a stolen dragon before the heart-wrenching fate of his only daughter? Either he is in denial, or the king has a cruel streak that goes even deeper than Emmeric’s.
Zabriel approaches us, and he looks from me to Zenevieve. “The guards overheard Mirelle on the battlements. Is it true what my sister said before she…”
I cup Zenevieve’s face to my chest, glare at Zabriel, and shake my head sharply. I don’t want Zenevieve to know what the princess said before she died. She doesn’t need to know that while he was hurting his sister so monstrously, he was calling Mirelle by her name.
Zabriel closes his lips and nods, turning away.
“Let’s go home,” I say to my ward. “Nilak and I will resume searching for Emmeric at dawn.”
As I lead her down the corridors to our rooms, Zenevieve turns to me in the near darkness and cries, “This is all my fault.”
“This is no one’s fault but Emmeric’s.”
