Dragons Against Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice #2)(9)
But then, that was before his younger sibling had run off. He missed her so and wished she too had kept fewer secrets from him. “No princess of this castle does, it seems.”
They walked several paces more in silence before his curiosity got the best of him. “Have you received word from her?”
“No.”
“Blackstone, you know you can tell—”
“I have heard nothing from Princess Rosalind since she ran off, sire.”
Quinn’s dark gaze found his, offering Tristan a glimpse into the warrior’s tortured soul. He’d known without asking what toll his father’s announcement of Rosalind’s betrothal to Edana’s lone heir, Prince Zayne, had taken on Blackstone. Adelaide’s miraculous reappearance had broken the engagement, though, and freed his younger sister from her marital responsibilities. But rather than rejoice at the occasion, Rosalind had turned and fled, leaving a confused and ever-anxious Quinn behind.
For the dozenth time in as many days, Tristan sensed the two events—Adelaide’s reappearance and Rosalind’s disappearance—were somehow connected. All the more reason he needed to earn his twin’s trust. Without her help, Rosalind might never return, and Tristan refused to imagine a world without his younger sister in it. He clapped a hand on Quinn’s shoulder and turned his gaze toward the forest to their north.
“We shall find her, my friend. In the meantime, I have a favor to ask of you.”
Chapter 4
Queen Helena looked up from her needlework to spy Berinon step into the room. Their kingdom’s high wizard had frequented Castle Edana often in recent weeks to observe King Robert’s recuperation from a mysterious illness that had rendered him unconscious for three days. The illness—which was no mystery at all to either her or Berinon as they had conspired to invoke it—had unfortunately struck her as well for a single night. But one night of incurable slumber was a small price to pay compared to its rewards: her son had found true love, King Jarin’s long-lost daughter had been returned to their neighboring kingdom of Forath, and Helena…well, Helena still had a hothead of a husband and a furtive love for the childhood sweetheart who had grown to become Edana’s high wizard.
A love that was not meant to be. Nor could it be, not while her own husband lived.
She watched Berinon approach, his emerald gaze dark and jawline tense in the waning afternoon sun. Though, whether from something she might have done this day to upset him or because he too despised the man she’d been unwillingly betrothed to twenty-some years ago, Helena knew not. Still, to see him displeased pained the queen. Berinon had been her first friend, her first love, and, now that the wizard had spared her son from a life bound to a princess for whom he cared not, her personal savior. Yet here she stood, trapped in robes of royalty, unable to offer him anything more than mere words of gratitude.
“How is he?”
“Weak.”
There was no remorse in his answer, no hint of guilt. She sensed that he hated her husband, perhaps even more than she did. An unfair thought, she immediately realized. Robert had not always been the bullheaded man he was today. In their early days together, the king had been concerned for her feelings. Protective, doting. Besides, the betrothal had been their parents’ doing, not his. Any resentment toward the arrangement should have been aimed at them, not her spouse. And yet, Robert had become an easier target for her anger than their deceased parents now that power had become his preferred companion.
“Will he…?”
Berinon looked to the window. “He will live.”
Rather than bring her relief, his words hung in the still air between them, heavy as a death sentence. Helena drew a deep breath, intent on keeping her face smooth and any tears from forming. She was a queen, and queens did not cry. Not within their castles, and certainly not in the presence of visitors. Instead, she set her sewing aside and stood.
“Thank you for attending to my husband, high wizard. Please, allow me to walk you out.”
Berinon frowned but said nothing as he offered her his arm. Together they walked in amicable silence to the castle’s lower level. But rather than moving toward the entryway, he guided her toward the inner courtyard. Servants scattered, allowing the pair what little privacy the castle’s innards had to offer. Not until they drew near enough to her beloved rose garden that its soft fragrance washed over them did Helena believe it safe to speak.
“I sense you have more that needs to be said?”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps I am not yet ready to leave your side, my queen.”
His emerald gaze shifted briefly down to hers, its earlier hint of resentment now gone. Her heart stuttered at the sight, fanning the flames of her ire. As did his flirtatious tone.
“Choose your words wisely, wizard. The castle has many ears.”
“Aye, and many eyes as well. I am quite certain the knowledge of our extended walk together has already reached the ears of our king.”
Helena glanced toward Robert’s window casement in time to see his squire step away, a scowl set deep upon the lad’s face. “Your actions may well result in my punishment.”
“I wish a great many persons be punished, my queen. You, however, are not one of them.”
His free hand came to rest upon hers, which yet graced his offered arm, and a warmth seeped into her skin, her bones. Magic, perhaps? Helena didn’t know, nor did she find herself caring either. His were the arms she wished to be held by, not those to which she was bound.