Dragons Against Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice #2)(44)

“Please.”

Her shoulders slumped at his gentle prodding. She bent to place one last kiss upon his forehead, then rose to join her brother. With each step she took away from Zayne, the more acute his pain became once again. Had the others not been present, he might well have beckoned her back. As it was, he had to bite back a cry when she reached the door.

“This better not be another one of your schemes, buddy.” She jabbed a finger into her waiting brother’s chest. “Because if it is? I’m gonna do way worse than give you a black eye next time.”

She shoved the door wide and stalked from the room. Tristan ran a hand through his mussed hair, then turned and followed her. Zayne looked from the prince’s swollen cheek to Quinn, who shook his head as he approached.

“It seems your betrothed has quite a temper, my lord.”

Zayne’s chest swelled painfully with pride. “That she does, Blackstone. That she does.”

Quinn made quick work of releasing him from the shackles, then eased him to his feet.

“Are you able to walk, sire? We must hurry.”

“I shall do my best.” Zayne sucked in a sharp breath as Quinn helped him forward. Pain stabbed through his chest at each step, blurring his vision. Never had he been dealt an injury such as this. In that moment, he gained a new respect for his rival ice dragons.

Blackstone guided him onward to the base of a stone staircase. Up ahead, the glow of Tristan’s lantern beckoned. Zayne judged the stairs that separated him from Adelaide and braced for the pain that was sure to follow. But to see her again, to be held by her, he would walk over embers of the hottest fire or blades of the coldest ice.

“So what is the plan?” he asked.

“The plan is to get us all out of here in one piece, undetected.”

“And after that?”

“I know a place.”

“Can we trust you?” Zayne cast his helper a wary glance.

A mirthless grin drew across Quinn’s face. “Do you have a choice?”

“Hear me, Blackstone, if any harm comes to my Adelaide—”

“Then I shall have a king and two princes after my head. Trust me, right now?” Quinn looked from him to the top of the stairs. “’Tis the least of my worries.”





Chapter 24





Rosalind ducked beneath the trunk of a half-fallen tree and remained in a low squat, scanning the scene ahead. She and Jaxon had flown into Forath a short while ago, using the forest as cover and keeping just above the tree line. In this moonless night, his dark russet scales blended well with the woodland colors, and with Rosalind riding upon his back rather than dangling from his talons, the camouflage worked quite well. After making their way on foot from a clearing behind the crumbling, long-forgotten church of a nearby village, they were now within striking distance, their presence yet undetected.

It was almost too easy.

He insisted upon doing a quick sweep of the nearby woods before meeting her at the lookout point, and as he returned to her now, she sensed his presence before seeing him. It had been this way since their flight—him moving in stealth and her knowing exactly where he was. To find a man she was so attuned to felt odd and yet completely natural.

Though each time she sensed his presence, it felt like a pinprick to her heart. Never had she sensed Quinn’s presence this way, knowing which way he would turn before he did so, understanding his instructions the moment they were given. So why was it different with this man? Were they related somehow?

Long-lost cousins, perhaps? A secret bastard son of Jarin?

That, she thought with a smirk, was highly unlikely. Since her mother’s death, the king had avoided women in general, turning away offered brides from his villages’ leaders. Which, admittedly, confused Rosalind. Did he not miss the warm bed and soft body a woman could provide? It was a wonder the man had impregnated his first wife, let alone that Rosalind herself had ever been conceived. So for him to have ever strayed into the bed of a known witch was unimaginable. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder…

“Two men, at the forest’s edge.” Jaxon lowered to his knees beside her and placed a warm hand upon the small of her back. “We should be able to see them from here.”

Rosalind flinched at his touch and felt her cheeks warm from embarrassment. It wasn’t as though she’d never been touched by a man before. Or even several, all at once.

“There.” She raised a hand in their direction. “Thomas and Jerrard. Alert but with lethargic reflexes. They shall be no match for the speed of your men, if they are indeed as quick as you say.”

“I do, and they are.” His hand remained upon her. “Now, where is this third set of guards at the castle, which you insisted Silas and I overlooked upon our last journey?”

A smile tugged at her lips—he had listened after all. She reached to claim his chin in her hand and turned his face toward the castle’s easternmost turret. The stubble on his face tickled her fingers, causing her to wonder how that face would feel against other areas of her body.

Perhaps I should bed the man upon our return to put all these secret desires to rest. Only then might I finally find some peace in his damned presence.

“Aye,” Jaxon whispered, his gaze fixed upon the hidden sentry. “Excellent work, Princess.”