I beg on my knees for him to spare Zenevieve. “If you must satisfy your rage, punish me instead.”
Zenevieve is right by my side. I could reach out and touch her, but she doesn’t turn her head or even acknowledge my presence.
Zabriel glares at me with his father’s eyes, a breath away from making one of his father’s hateful decisions. “One more word, dragonmaster, and I’ll banish you from Maledin for the rest of your life.”
My life is already not worth living. I will give everything up to save Zenevieve. “I will leave Maledin forever. I will release Nilak back to the flare. I will do anything. You may beat me. Starve me. Kill me, I don’t care. Only don’t hurt Zenevieve.”
I hear Nilak’s desperate, unhappy scream from the dragongrounds.
I’m sorry. I have to. This is all my fault.
Finally, it is not the king who shows Zenevieve mercy. It’s his future queen. She gently points out that he’s in a rut, and he should not make any hasty decisions. I was not under the impression that Lady Isavelle knew the first thing about ruts or that she cared about anyone or anything apart from herself. She reminds Zabriel of the kind of king he wants to be, something he must have confessed to her in one of their private moments.
A merciful one.
Zabriel asks me what Zenevieve’s punishment should be.
Nothing.
But Zabriel isn’t going to let me take her home with me. If her mind is broken, then the next best place for her is in the FlameTemple. The Temple Mothers know how she has suffered, and they will treat her well. “Zenevieve should be placed somewhere until we are able—”
Zabriel speaks over me and orders Zenevieve to be locked up in the dungeons like a criminal, and I am ordered to stay away from her. He is concerned that I might grab the girl and flee, and he’s right to fear it because I am sorely tempted.
My former ward is dragged from the room by soldiers and taken down into the dungeons, and I am helpless to do anything but watch.
22
Zenevieve
Another prison. It is to be expected.
I lay on the hard little bunk, tracing my fingers over the dank stones. I feel as though I have been a prisoner for several lifetimes, though I can’t remember the walls of my last prison, who my jailor was, or even my crime. It must have been something terrible, because so many people are angry with me. I look at their faces, and I feel a sense of déjà vu. This place. Have I been here before? Zenevieve, that white-haired Alpha kept calling me. Is that my name? Do I know him?
A man enters my cell, and I start screaming. I know his face. He’s done something to me. His eyes are red and his hair is black as coal, and I whimper his name and try to get away. “Emmeric. No—don’t.Please.”
He retreats, and a woman enters in his place. She looks familiar as well, but I don’t feel the same crushing fear in her presence. She looks at me like she’s in pain. She pities me. She talks to me like she knows me.
I hear myself asking to speak to Zabriel—who is Zabriel?—and gabbling about danger. I didn’t mean what I said to Stesha. What did I say to Stesha? Who is Stesha?
I don’t understand anything that’s happening. For splinters of moments, I think I know who I am, and then the certainty is gone again.
Women dressed in red tend to me and give me things to drink. They tell me to rest and cover me with warm blankets. Whenever I sleep, I awaken soon after covered in cold sweat and screaming from nightmares. It takes me a long time to realize that I’m no longer in a cell made from bricks, but in a chamber with smooth black stone walls.
A woman in red is bathing sweat from my forehead, and I seize her arm. “Will I survive the lavish sickness, Mother?”
The woman’s eyes widen in surprise. Mother Linnea. That’s her name. I remember now. Gods, my head has become so muddled from nightmares. It must be the fevers that the lavish sickness brings on. “The things I have been dreaming. Terrible things.” My eyes widen in surprise. “I am speaking without coughing. Does this mean I am finally getting better?”
Mother Linnea is blinking back tears. “You do not have lavish sickness, my dear.”
My brows draw together in confusion. “But you said it was lavish sickness. I couldn’t have any medicine because I needed to cough.”
“You recovered from lavish sickness a long time ago. We don’t know your ailment, but it seems to have been induced by magic, and we are hopeful that you will recover.”
Not lavish sickness? I look at my arms, surprised to find they’re no longer painfully thin and wasted.
I cover my face in horror as it comes rushing back. I survived the lavish sickness. I told Stesha he has a heart of ice. I flew awayfrom Lenhale on Minta. My whole body was aching, and I was thin and weak. And then…and then…
I don’t know what then. “Why can’t I remember what happened to me?”
