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“Are you all right, Majesty?” Gunnar reminds me of his presence with the question, and I nod.
“As well as I can be, given that the world is on fire and we have no idea how to douse the flames.”
“Yes.” Gunnar nods, his face grave. “But sometimes the flames are cleansing. I cannot believe this is over yet.”
I turn his words over in my mind. It would be nice to even feel that bleak sort of hope right now, but as we get closer to Dvain’s estate, I can’t help but wonder who will be burned next.
We tie the hestrinn up near the tree line and walk the rest of the way toward the caves. A lingering sense of dread pools in my stomach as I remember the acrid scent of smoke in the air, the way I had been certain I would find no more than Zaina’s remains, if I found her at all.
Gunnar stands guard at the entrance while I force myself to sneak back to the same place I hoped to never see again. Sure enough, around the corner, just where it was before, is the massive form of the sleeping dragon.
Zaina said the roses were on the cave wall behind the creature. Part of me almost didn’t want to believe her. It seems too cruel that they have been so close all this time when I had people searching the entire world for a rose like mine. No one would have thought to look in a cave when by all of the rules of science, flowers like this should need sunlight to grow.
But the larger part of me can’t help but feel an unreasonable surge of hope that all might not be lost if I have more time, more petals to experiment with.
It takes me only moments for my eyes to discover the dead-looking vine that I’d missed before. Even if I could squeeze past the firedrake, it would be pointless since there are no petals on the stems.
Of course.
I leave the cave as quickly as I entered, ignoring the sinking feeling in my gut. I had known better than to let myself hope.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Einar
It’s nearly dusk when we arrive at the sprawling black mansion. Dvain meets us on the outer steps, breathless and clearly surprised.
“My King,” he says with a small bow. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
Dismounting Zola, I turn to face him fully. Instead of the usual familiarity between us, it’s an effort to keep my features neutral as I size the man up. As much as I hate to admit it, Zaina was right when she told me to go with my instinct.
Despite his position as my ambassador and alchemist, despite his outward display of loyalty, something within me never fully allowed me to trust him.
I hadn’t analyzed it before now, but even my refusal to give him the rose or allow him to ever see more than the fallen petals was evidence.
How grateful I am for that small piece of me that had more sense with him than I did with Zaina.
“This visit is quite unexpected. I had planned to come to you soon to give my condolences.”
“So, you’ve heard already.”
“Yes, the news arrived just this morning. My boy,” Dvain strides toward me, placing a hand on my shoulder, “I am so sorry for your loss.”
“It was quite surprising and devastating, I must admit,” I say, without the need for pretense.
“I’m certain it was. Dragons can be nasty business. I only hope she went quickly, painlessly.” There is something in his tone that makes me wonder if that is true at all.
But then again, if I had needed any more reason to believe he was a traitor, he just gave it to me. No one should have known about the dragon.
“There is more, old friend,” I add after a moment, sick to be using such a word in reference to him. “I believe there was foul play.”
Dvain removes his hand, his eyes peering up at me, studying my face carefully.
“What can you mean, My King?” His tone is too neutral.
“Someone also has stolen the rose and replaced it with a fraud. Maybe in my distraction, after Zaina’s...” I trail off, not so much because I’m play acting as because I find I can’t quite finish that sentence.
Dvain’s eyes dart from me to Gunnar as if he will be able to discern the truth in my guard’s expression.
