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A group of soldiers enter the cellar, stop smartly in front of Zabriel, and bow their heads with their fists over their hearts. “Ma’len.”
I’ve seen the way the dragonriders and other soldiers greet each other during my days spent at the castle. Subordinates greet their superiors with their hands on the hilts of their swords and a brief bow. I’ve never heard anyone sayMa’len, whatever that means.
Silence fills the cellar, and I feel the irresistible urge to fill it. “Why are they all bowing to you like that?”
Zabriel takes one of my hands in his. “What is it, Godric?”
“Ma’len,” Godric says again in tones of deep respect, then glances at me.
“You may speak freely in front of Lady Isavelle.”
In my homespun dress, I’m not fooling anyone into believing I’m a lady, and yet Godric gives me a courteous nod before turning back to the man he came to see.
“We have finished our search of the areas surrounding the five largest monasteries. Several enemy priests were captured, but there was no sign of the High Priest. It appears our suspicions were correct and he’s fled south.”
My stomach swoops at the mention of the High Priest, and the realization that he’s still out there somewhere.
Zabriel mutters under his breath in a language I don’t understand. “Thank you. You may go.”
After Godric and the other soldiers have left the cellar, Zabriel turns to me with an expression of regret.
“I’m sorry. I hoped to present you with his corpse by now.”
That is disappointing, but I’m thinking about something else. “Why are they calling youMa’len? What does it mean?”
“It means Flame Dragon. We don’t speak the ancient tongue anymore except for honorifics. And curses. It’s pleasing to swear in the old language.”
Flame Dragon. What a strange thing to call a soldier, even if he is a commander. “And why do they call you that? Is it because you have that big black dragon?”
Zabriel hesitates, and then says, “It also means Flame King. It’s how my people address their ruler.”
A faint buzzing begins in the base of my skull. “Their…what?”
For once, there’s not a trace of teasing on his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’twantto tell you because I knew you’d look at me like I’ve sprouted two heads.”
Zabriel is the new ruler.
Zabriel invaded my country, and he’s responsible for the misery and distress of every single person in Maledin.
Zabriel won the war and now he’s my king. He let me go on and on about what a terrible job the king is doing and all the while he listened to my ranting without warning me I was crossing so many lines.
“I have been in this castle for many days,” I whisper. “I talked to people about a soldier called Zabriel. I asked people if they had seen Zabriel as if I had the right to demand your whereabouts. I cursed Commander Zabriel to hell and back when the dragons flew overhead, and no one told me to stop talking myself into my own execution.” I look up at him. “Are you going to cut my head off now?”
Zabriel sighs. “Can we go back a few minutes to when you thought I was a vampire? That was much more fun.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me that you’re the king?” I cry.
A voice calls down through the trap door, “Do you need assistance,Ma’len?”
“I’m all right. I wouldn’t be the Flame King if I couldn’t handle a few sparks,” Zabriel calls back. Addressing me, he says, “I told my people to give you whatever you asked for but not to tell you who I am. Everyone else will learn who I am the day of my coronation.”
“Why are you keeping it a secret?”
“It’s not a secret.” He stares at our joined fingers with his dark brows drawn together. “I had my reasons for keeping it quiet. Please forgive me for keeping it from you.”
“You should have told me yourself.”
He lifts his red eyes to mine. “But then you wouldn’t have come to see me,sha’len. You wouldn’t have wanted to talk to me or even look at me. The last time you were wedded to a king, you were nearly thrown onto a burning pyre. Marrying me will be a lot more pleasurable, I promise you.”
