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Marryhim?
He winds his fingers even tighter around mine. His fingers are far longer and thicker than any of mine, and he wears a heavy gold signet ring in the shape of a dragon on his pinkie. Like a king would wear.
I’m such a fool.
He commands the army. He rides the biggest dragon. He carries himself with the arrogance of a man who knows he is the most important person in the castle. Why didn’t I realize who he was?
“Ma’len. Is that what I should call you?”
Zabriel gives me a smoldering look. “Absolutely not. There are better things for you to call me. Would you like to hear them?”
“No, thank you.Ma’lenis just fine.”
“Zabriel,” he insists. “Just call me Zabriel, please. And yes, I can see to it that the Veiled Virgins find work in the castle. I’m pleased they want to stay.”
I stare at him in surprise. Whoever heard of a king helping a group of refugees? Whoever heard of a king hauling barrels around in a cellar? “Really?”
Zabriel smiles. “Of course. There are as many jobs as there are people who want them. I’ll send someone to talk to the women, and please spread the word among the other refugees that they’re welcome to stay.”
I step back from him and draw my fingers out of his, not knowing what to say.
“One more thing,” Zabriel says, and he sounds so serious that I turn toward him. “Kiss me before you go.”
“You stink of fish.” He doesn’t.
“If I smell of anything, it’s not fish.”
There’s a bitter taste on my tongue and anger blooms in my heart. “If you’re hoping for a mistress, you can look elsewhere. I’m not interested.” I turn and walk out of the cellar.
“I don’t want a mistress. I want a queen,” he calls after me as I hurry up the stairs.
I feel sick as I walk along the corridor. Posette and Santha will be pleased, and I’ll be happy knowing there are a few familiar faces within the castle, but I don’t know what to do with this new information about Zabriel. Commander Zabriel was formidable enough with his armor and his sword and his dragon. The soldiers he led and the enemies he killed. I thought that Commander Zabriel had taken a liking to me. I would have refused his advances, but did I walk around this castle with a mite more confidence because I’d caught the attention of a man whom I thought was just a little bit important here?
Now I know for sure that he’s been playing with me because there’s no way that a king can marry a commoner, or even want to.
There are too many people in the Great Hall. I turn the other way down the corridor and keep walking down twists and turns until I come to a window in an alcove covered by a tapestry. I duck beneath the tapestry and huddle against small, thick panes of glass. My throat feels tight. My eyes sting. In the distance, I can make out a dragon that’s little more than a smudge flying on the horizon.
Why does my chest ache like it does? I will not cry because a man I don’t even want is so far out of my reach that he may as well live on the moon.
I dash tears from my cheeks, take a deep breath, and I pull myself together.
Posette and Santha are where I left them, and I force a smile onto my lips as I tell them, “I have good news for you both.”
* * *
Over the following days,every time I catch sight of Zabriel, I flee.
I’m not proud of my behavior. I know he knows I’m running from him. I’m a hare fleeing a fox, whisking myself away down corridors and up narrow lanes in this warren of a castle. Suddenly it seems like he’s everywhere, and if it’s not him who’s tormenting me, it’s dragon banners, dragon flags, dragon shields, cakes baked into the shape of dragons, pastry dragons, flower bouquet dragons, and children running around with dragon kites. The coronation is just days away, and the whole castle has gone Flame King crazy.
The secret of who the new king is has spread. People point Zabriel out in excited whispers whenever he walks by. Everyone has a story to tell about Zabriel from during the invasion or seeing him around the castle. Everyone is keen to say that they know the Flame King.
Posette, Santha, and several more former Veiled Virgins have joined the kitchen staff and thrown themselves into preparations for the big day. Dozens more refugees have embraced life at the castle and are now working in the kitchens, the armory, and the gardens. Meanwhile, I still have no news about my family and find myself standing forlornly amid coronation excitement, gazing at a boy who reminds me of my brother, or watching a woman teaching her daughter who looks like Anise how to darn a stocking.
The day of the coronation dawns bright and clear. Even the dragons seem to be excited, and I can hear roars and the beating of wings from the dragongrounds. The castle gates are open, and a long train of horse-drawn carriages enter one by one. I recognize the crests of many important cities of Maledin. The people who emerge are dressed in fine clothes. They once paid homage to King Alaster, and now they’ve come to witness the crowning of the Flame King, a man who rides a dragon and took the country from the former king by force.
At midday, every dragon at the bluff launches into the air and flies in a wide arc around the capital. They’re careful not to draw too close as they spit flames into the sky, but as the people rush to the walls to get a better view of the spectacle, I see that no one’s frightened of the creatures anymore. Their faces are filled with wonder, not terror.
From within the Great Hall, horns blare. It seems to be the signal that the coronation is about to begin, and everyone hurries through the enormous open doors.
