Dragons Against Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice #2)(48)

“Do not waste your hours worrying over what might have been, my lady. Instead, take heart in what has come to be.”

“We are still in danger of being found, sire,” said Quinn. “Prince Tristan flew to retrieve the potion, and Haelan is bound by duty to alert the king of such a request.”

Tristan nodded. “’Tis not a matter of if Father sends his sentries to find us, but a matter of when.”

“Aye. Your father intended to use me as his guide to Weston. He planned to storm their village tomorrow. Even if he does not realize your absence in the morning, he will surely notice mine.”

As the wizard’s potion worked to warm his inner beast, Zayne began to feel his strength returning and the aching in his limbs lessen. Even the stabbing pain across his chest began to subside. With a grunt, he half rolled, half pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Where is Brom?”

“Brom?” asked Tristan.

Addie smacked a palm to her forehead. “Oh my gosh, I completely forgot about Brom! Did you guys really leave him back at the castle?”

“Was he not also imprisoned?” Zayne asked.

“Not that I know of. He was with me all afternoon.” Her fiancé threw her a questioning look. She offered him a flat one in return. “And no, I didn’t hurt myself as no weapons were involved.”

“Weapons?” Tristan offered her an alarmed look. “Whatever would you be doing near Brom’s weapons?”

“Your sister has requested to learn our ways of defense,” offered Zayne.

“Adelaide? Fighting to defend herself?” Tristan shook his head. “And you wonder why I wished to keep you locked away earlier.”

Addie crossed her arms and turned to scowl at a nearby window. “Can we get back to talking about Brom for a minute here?”

“We shall retrieve your warrior friend this night, if it pleases you, my lady.” Quinn turned his attention from Addie to Zayne. “Can you truly show us the way to Weston?”

“Aye.”

“Excellent,” said Tristan. “Then once we have your companion safely in our midst and you have sufficiently healed, we shall all fly there, sneak Rosalind out of the village, and return home. Without a war.”

“Unless…”

They all turned to Addie, whose gaze had remained upon the window. Whatever thought she held now consumed her.

Zayne offered her hand a small squeeze. “Unless?”

“What if she hasn’t been captured?” Addie said. “What if…what if she wanted to be there? I mean, if the witches were truly after her, she would have been snatched up from Forath weeks not days ago.”

“Wanted to be there?” Tristan sputtered, but Adelaide ignored him. She continued on, still entranced by her thoughts.

“It’s almost like…like she’s been roaming around the woods this whole time. Hiding.”

“Or searching.”

All eyes shifted to Quinn. His gaze, however, remained upon Adelaide.

“Princess.” He stopped and looked to Zayne. There was something in his eyes, an unspoken request for approval in place of the usual malice which resided there. Zayne offered him a subtle nod, and Quinn shifted his gaze back to Addie. “May I speak with you outside?”

With a sigh, Tristan stepped forward. Quinn held up one hand, halting him as he added, “In private?”



Addie followed Quinn outside but kept a safe distance between them. Yes, he’d just helped rescue and then carefully transport her fiancé here, but that didn’t mean she trusted the guy not to take off with her a third time. He could be schizophrenic for all she knew, if such a thing existed in this hidden bubble of the world.

As if he could sense her distrust, Quinn walked only a short way from the door and settled upon a fallen log. He motioned for her to take a seat beside him and offered a pleading look and a hand to assist her. And though taking his hand nearly triggered an instant panic attack, she did so to keep from hurting his feelings. Because, big scary jerk or not, he had just helped save Zayne’s life. And as much as Addie hated to admit it, she owed him now. Big-time.

“So? What’s up?”

Quinn leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “There is something I must tell you that cannot be repeated to the others. At least”—he cast her a sideways glance—“not to your brother.”

“Okay…”

“Your younger sister, she struggled as a child. Losing her mother at such a young age was difficult for her. King Jarin knew not how to comfort his daughter during the dark days that followed, as Tristan had always been a happy, obedient child. The servants, they tried their best to brighten her spirits, but for weeks, she would cry out in the night for Queen Agatha.

“Tristan came to me, begging that I help him cheer her. He knew that I too was believed to be motherless, and that perhaps I could sympathize with the sorrowful sprite. So we convinced her to sneak away with us from the castle one morn and ran off to play in a nearby meadow. Though she brightened at the change in scenery, still she did not smile.

“It took many more outings before she began to open up, but never did she speak of the hurt she felt upon losing her mother. In time, though, she did express solely to me the anger she felt toward your father. For abandoning her when she needed him most. For wallowing in despair rather than comforting his wee lass.”