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 tome 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 heardhe 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 willseek 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.”
