Dragons Against Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice #2)(67)

Giselle’s chanting ceased. She looked to Rosalind, her eyes wide. “What name did you speak just now?”

“’Tis Quinn Blackstone, my oldest and dearest friend.”

“No.” Giselle’s hands flew to her mouth. “It cannot be.”

Quinn’s unfocused gaze shifted toward the witch queen. “It is I, Mother.”

“No…no, my son is dead. His father sent me a scroll stating my Quinn had died of the fever not long after we were exiled.”

“Father was a cold, cruel man. He fooled me into believing you had died as well.”

Giselle stared at him, recognition slowly dawning upon her face. “But…why, Quinn? Why did you wait until now to seek me?”

“An elder servant of Forath…knew of the rumors…came forward when they heard of our planned invasion. They too had family in exile they wished to protect.”

Rosalind drew her hands back as Giselle leaned in to cup her dying son’s cheeks. “My boy. My beautiful boy.” She brushed her fingers light as a feather across his brow, down his cheekbones. “’Tis truly you.”

“Aye. My life is complete, as I lived to see your face again—”

Quinn coughed up more blood, a gurgle drowning out the remainder of his thoughts. Giselle’s face crumpled at the sight. She leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead, then drew back and stood, a look of determination replacing her grief.

“Your life is not yet complete, my son.”

The air around them began to whip and swirl as though a pack of dragons was preparing to transform. She cried out to the heavens with outstretched arms, uttering musical phrases and eerie halftones. Lightning flashed and crackled across the sky where the ceiling had once been, then snaked down to connect with Giselle’s fingertips.

The witch took on an eerie glow, her eyes white orbs of light as they turned toward her dying son. She knelt beside him and placed one hand upon his heart, the other upon his forehead. Quinn’s body arched and twisted beneath her, the glow spreading to consume him as well. Rosalind cried out and drew back, afraid for him and the pain he must be feeling, afraid of the witch and her magic.

But in the next instant, the thick, jagged splinter of wood in his chest dissolved away to nothing. The queen’s chanting continued, and soon the gaping hole in his chest began to seal. As it did, the twitching of his body lessened and the glow enveloping him and the queen dimmed. When at last his body stilled, the glow vanished.

Giselle slumped to the ground.

Quinn blinked. Lifted himself onto his elbows and turned to look at Rosalind. His look of shock gave way to a smile, which quickly faded as his gaze shifted to his mother lying beside him on the ground.

“No.” He rolled to one side and scrambled toward Giselle. In a blink, he had lifted her into his lap, cradling her to him. “Please, do not go, Mother. I have missed you so all these years.”

“My sweet, sweet boy,” she said, her voice weak. “I died a thousand deaths when we were separated the day of exile. Died a thousand more when your father sent the scroll of your passing.”

She lifted a trembling hand to his cheek. “I spent years mourning your death, plotting my revenge, when what I should have done was continue searching for you.”

A cough rattled her weakened frame, and Quinn caught her hand as it slipped from his face.

“I failed you once, but never again. Lead my people, keep them safe. And hate not your half brother—his devotion has kept me alive all these years.” Her gaze shifted to Rosalind. “Bind with the princess, take her as your queen. She is your one true mate. I felt it as my energy interwove with yours. Jaxon had tricked her upon my instruction. For you.” Her eyelids slid shut. “Always did I act to avenge losing you.”

The queen’s body stilled.

Quinn’s broad shoulders slumped as he succumbed to his grief. Rosalind shuffled to his side and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, quaking with sobs for his mother lost. For she too knew what it was like to lose a mother, and vowed to do all she could to ease his pain. Always, from this day forward.





Chapter 40





Zayne followed his mother out from what remained of Giselle’s manor home and into the village square, with Addie tucked protectively into his side. They all desired an escape from the sorrowful scene and a bit of fresh air. Though the cool night air did help to clear his mind, there remained one thought he could not escape:

He had a half brother.

An illegitimate one, conceived under the veil of disguise and witchcraft, but a brother nonetheless. Zayne looked toward his mother, who drifted away from him and Adelaide now. Judging by the look of consternation upon her face, it appeared she was struggling to come to terms with the realization too.

“He snuck off, you know. Before the walls came down.”

Zayne met Addie’s gaze. He didn’t bother asking to whom she referred—he knew from the look in her eyes she was thinking of the same man as he. “Aye, I observed as much.”

Addie started to speak, then stopped. Shook her head and looked out into the dark of night.

“What plagues you, my lady?”

“Nothing. I just… I’m just not sure if he made it back or not.”

“Made it back?” Zayne led her away from the others, then drew her close and spoke so that only she could hear. “Addie, what was the object Giselle held up? The one you seemed so shocked to see?”