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Zabriel
Rage boils through me so rapidly that I can barely think. Zenevieve hurt my mate. She nearly gave her to the Shadow King. One of my own has been working against me all this time, and it’s clear what must be done with her and anyone standing in my way.
“Move aside, Stesha.”
The white-haired Alpha thinks it’s wise to continue arguing with me. “Please, give her the opportunity to defend—”
“I said, move aside.”
What can she possibly say in her defense after admitting she wanted Isavelle to suffer? What can anyone say? If he thinks his protection is going to make me merciful, he’s mistaken. I’m almost as angry with him as I am with his former ward.
I’m opening my mouth to command the wingrunners to place the dragonmaster in chains when there’s movement out of the corner of my eye. Isavelle has returned, and she’s gazing with shock and sadness at her former friend. I don’t give a damn what the traitor has to say, but my mate deserves answers about this betrayal.
“You weren’t with us under the mountain,” I say to Zenevieve, but I can’t see her with Stesha standing in the way. “I saidmove, dragonmaster.”
Finally, Stesha steps to the side, but he stays close to Zenevieve.
“Where were you all these centuries? How did you survive? Where is Minta?”
“Who’s Minta?” Zenevieve asks vacantly.
I smash my fist against the arm of my throne. “Stop playing games. A dragonrider would never forget her dragon.”
Zenevieve’s hair has returned to its brown color and her eyes are light brown, as they were before she bonded with Minta as a teenager. The Zenevieve we all knew for years had raven hair and forest green eyes that matched her dragon’s black scales and iridescent green flourishes.
“Did you kill your dragon for your master?” I ask her. “Did he promise you power if you betrayed us all and helped him murder the future queen? Why did he slaughter dozens of villagers from Amriste?”
No matter what I ask Zenevieve, she either doesn’t respond or murmurs quietly that she doesn’t have a master and she did all this alone. It’s not even a good lie. Only a powerful mage could have kept her alive for five hundred years, and the girl never had any magic.
My rage gathers in my chest and I bellow, “Who is your master?”
The glass rattles in the high windows. I’m sweating, and it feels like there’s fire beneath my skin. I want to grab hold of Zenevieve and shake her until she gives me the truth instead of these lies. I want to fight Stesha. I want to bite my mate. My teeth areaching.
“If you’re not going to save your own life by confessing, then you leave me no choice.”
Stesha falls to his knees before me, a desolate expression on his face. “Please,Ma’len. This isn’t Zenevieve’s doing. Something’s wrong. Youknowher. If you must satisfy your rage, punish me instead.”
I turn to him with a snarl. “I’mMa’lennow that you want something for her?”
All Stesha’s pride has fallen away. Before me is a man on the brink of throwing away everything he has to save his former ward from my wrath. “This isn’t her fault. If Zenevieve has wronged anyone it’s because I failed her.”
I don’t trust Stesha one inch right now. He’d do anything to protect Zenevieve and can’t see what’s right in front of his face. “Zenevieve came of age three years ago. Five hundred and three years ago. She was a dragonrider of Maledin and is responsible for her own decisions. You can’t protect her, and you’re not responsible for her.”
Stesha leaps to his feet and cries out, “Ma’len—”
“One more word, dragonmaster, and I’ll banish you from Maledin for the rest of your life.”
Stesha’s chest is heaving. “I will leave Maledin forever. I will release Nilak back to the flare. I will doanything. You may beat me. Starve me. Kill me, I don’t care. Only don’t hurt Zenevieve.”
Beyond the castle walls, a dragon screams, shrill and distraught. Nilak’s scream.
Silence reigns in the throne room.
I glance at the young woman slumped on the floor and recall all Isavelle’s pain at seeing half her family so cruelly slaughtered. I couldn’t save her from that pain, and Zenevieve doesn’t deserve anyone to save her.
I open my mouth to condemn her.
Isavelle approaches the throne to stand at my elbow. She places her fingers lightly on my arm and says softly, “May I say something, Zabriel?”
