Dragons Against Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice Book 2) (8 page)

A
ddie hurried
after Zayne up the castle’s back staircase, doing her best not to drop the quills and rolls of parchment that bobbled in her arms. He carried two small jars of ink in his hands, and less coin than before in his pocket, after paying a young servant boy for both the suggestion of a quiet place within the castle and the boy’s word that he would send Quinn on a wild-goose chase if questioned on their whereabouts. And as her father was supposedly off scouring the woods with Tristan and their warriors for Rosalind, she hoped like crazy those coins would work to buy them a little alone time. Because she needed answers, damn it, before worry got the best of her.

They exited the stairs on the castle’s third floor and turned down a dimly lit hall. It smelled mustier up here, the far windows closed. Tristan had told her the rooms on this floor were kept ready for visiting nobles and their families. But from the silence and stale air that greeted them now, Addie couldn’t help but wonder how rarely such visits occurred.

“You were pretty slick back there with the servant boy,” she whispered. “Almost like you’ve had lots of practice paying servants to keep quiet. I probably don’t want to know how many times you’ve snuck away with a woman like this, do I?”

He stopped to push open a door and motioned for her to enter with a tip of his head and a grin. “You presume the worst, my lady.”

“Uh-huh.”

He closed the door behind them, then turned to offer her a look of innocence as they set their writing supplies down on a side table. “Truly, the rumors are exaggerated. And lining palms in the homes of royalty with coin is common practice here.”

“Good to know. Except I have no coins. Or a home, for that matter.”

“Is this not your home, Adelaide?”

“For all intents and purposes it is. It just doesn’t feel like it yet.”

She walked to the nearest window and tugged it open, allowing fresh air to enter upon the gentle summer’s breeze. From here, she could see the entrance to the castle and the thick forest beyond. And though the view was less chaotic than that of the castle’s inner courtyard, it offered her little comfort as this was still a strange land to her, and she a stranger to it.

A stranger still feeling utterly clueless about so much of this kingdom. Hell, there was a whole clan of witches out there, probably planning her demise as they spoke. It was incredibly…frustrating. Zayne crossed the room to stand behind her, and slipped his arms around her waist.

“Do you regret your decision to stay?”

“No.” She answered too quickly and knew he would see through the lie. With a sigh, Addie sank back against him, trying to draw strength from his warmth, his presence. “Regret isn’t the right word. It’s more that I’m feeling out of sorts than anything else. Things are so different here. Lifestyles, social statuses, expected behaviors. And now to find out that the people who stole me from my crib twenty years ago might be plotting a second attempt…”

“A lie, my love. A guess at best.”

“Yes, you keep saying that, but how do you know?”

She turned to face him and tried not to become distracted by the warmth in his topaz eyes. The sexy stubble on his chin. The scent of him, so close to her, just begging her to have a taste…

“Because the witches aren’t some clan of vicious, child-stealing people. Your family has fed you lies, Adelaide. Lies based upon fear and misunderstanding.”

“How. Do. You. Know this?”

Zayne stared at her, considering his words. After a moment, he moved back toward the door and collected a scroll, quill, and ink. He sat down at a chair set beside the small table and uncorked the ink.

“Come.” Quill met ink, then ink met the page. “You have undoubtedly studied your family’s origins. Now it is time you learned mine.”

Addie moved to his side and watched as his elegant script began to fill the scroll. She wanted to argue, to tell him that Tristan had already schooled her on his family’s history, but it was rare to see him so serious. If her family had truly been lying, then Zayne’s coming lesson would certainly differ from the one formerly offered to her—and the prospect of that inspired within her a new fear. If she couldn’t trust her own flesh and blood, how was she supposed to remain here, trapped within their confines, for the next few weeks?

“My father’s side.”

Zayne waved the quill’s feather over one branch of the sketched family tree. King Robert, his parents, their parents. Limited space on the parchment kept him from listing generations further removed. So far from what she could remember, it all looked the same as what Tristan had shown her.

Now he began drafting the branches that shaped Queen Helena’s side of the family, his movements slower, methodical. Addie looked away and studied the room’s sparse furnishings. Its floors and ceiling. Anything to keep her impatience at bay.

“And this.” Zayne leaned back and slid the scroll toward her. “Is my mother’s side.”

Addie studied his script. Again, it looked similar to what she remembered. All, that is, until she read the subheadings under Helena’s parents. Their place of origin was not designated first by name of kingdom and then village, but rather by a single locale: Weston.

“I thought you said there were only two kingdoms.”

“Aye.”

“Then why didn’t you list one with this Weston place?”

“Because that village has come to be less about rulers and more about its inhabitants.”

His gaze seemed to intensify and Addie looked from him to the scroll, looking for some hidden meaning. Whatever it was, though, it was lost on her. With a frown, she looked back to him, his topaz eyes still trained on her. And that was when she knew exactly who lived there, and why he’d been so damned sure that the witches weren’t behind her half sister’s disappearance.

“Wait. Your mother’s…a witch?”

* * *

Z
ayne watched Addie step back
, her eyes wide and wary. He’d been afraid to share his lineage with her for fear of this exact reaction. Of thinking the worst of his mother, of his family. But she was wrong, they all were.

“No, Adelaide, my mother is not a witch. But she does hale from the village where magical non-wizards have come to reside after your father cast them into exile. A village that has for centuries been a safe haven to those skilled in magic of all types—a truth her family knew, but your family apparently did not.”

She blinked. Swallowed hard. Looked from the sketch and back to him. “And her remaining family? Are they witches?”

He wished he could lie to her, to ease her worries and say there were no ties between him and the witches she had grown so terrified of these last few days. But as his one true mate, the desire to be truthful with her was too great to deny.

“Aye. There are different groups of the clan, different trades, if you will. Her younger sister, Ella, practices the trade of medicine. She has helped our family through many an illness over the years. Though her powers extend beyond sensing physical ailments alone.”

Addie studied him for a long moment, then stepped closer and traced trembling fingertips along his mother’s ancestral lines. “And your other aunt? Giselle?”

Zayne waited for Addie’s gaze to return to his before answering. “She is skilled in all trades, as their queen should be.”

“Oh God.” Adelaide withdrew her hand and started pacing the room. “So, I’m sleeping with the enemy? Is that what you’re telling me? About to get married into the same family who tried to have me killed as an infant?”

“They would have done no such thing.”

“No? Well sending me off to another dimension and dumping me on some stranger’s doorstep wasn’t exactly an act of preservation either. Damn it.” She scowled up at the ceiling. “Why? Why are you dragging me through all this?”

Zayne hated to see her this way, consumed by fear and anger, for he knew in his heart of hearts that Giselle would no sooner kill Adelaide than chop off her own hand. But how to make Addie see that?

Cursing under her breath, she turned away and stalked back toward the window. Zayne let her be for a moment, allowing her time to digest the information he had just given her. Because there was more to the story, and he needed her to be reasonable if she were to hear and understand it. When at last her shoulders sagged and she dropped onto the nearest chair, he rose and came to kneel before her.

“I know none of this makes much sense, my lady, but I hope you can learn to see past the stories told to you by your disillusioned father. The witches are a kind and proud race, one that seeks to help, not to harm. Your mother’s death…” He paused as her gaze flashed to his, fresh with hurt and confusion. “It was an accident. A terrible, terrible accident. Your father, distraught and in agony over his loss, sought to inflict pain upon the witches. A life for a life. But what Berinon told you, told us…I fear it matches not the tales I was told as a boy.”

Addie’s mouth opened into a small “o.” “W-what do you mean, doesn’t match?”

“If you will recall, the wizard told us your kidnapping was an act of revenge carried out by the family of the wrongfully killed maiden assisting with your birth. Yes, she was from the witch clan and no, she was not fully trained in her craft. But the stories I heard as a boy were that Forath’s high wizard had been in love with the maiden, and he ordered you to be taken in recompense for her death. The tales also said the persons responsible for your kidnapping weren’t witches at all but common thieves, eager to line their palms with gold.”

Addie rubbed her temples. “So you’re telling me, based on what you heard as a child, is that my father banished an entire race of people from his kingdom…based on an assumption? Didn’t the witches try to prove their innocence? Oh, wait—let me guess. My father wouldn’t listen.”

“Indeed, he refused. He exiled the entire clan, young and old, and demanded they leave this kingdom and never return.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist and hugged herself. “And the wizard responsible for my kidnapping? What became of him?”

“He died not long after.”

“Oh. Do you think the wizard who replaced him hates me as much as his predecessor?”

At that, Zayne couldn’t help but grin. He pulled his distraught betrothed gently into his chest and placed a kiss upon her fair head. “Neither man hated you, my lady, only your irrational father. But from what I understand, Forath’s high wizard, Haelan, has become a close advisor to the king. I highly doubt he is planning to steal you away again. Or anyone in our kingdoms, for that matter. To everyone else, you are the lost child who has miraculously returned home, no longer a pawn in some ongoing battle to gain power.”

She remained silent for a long moment, her arms drawn tight around him. When finally she spoke, her words were barely a whisper. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“I will allow no harm to come to you, Adelaide. On my life I swear it.”

The urge to protect her flared within him, instinct attempting to eclipse logic. He clamped his eyes shut and drew in a breath to calm himself, to lull the beast back into its dormant state. But his intake of breath brought with it her scent, and the dragon within began to demand a different kind of release. As both man and beast felt the same desire for the woman in his arms, Zayne knew it was futile to suppress the fire now coursing through his veins. He wove his hand up into the back of her hair and bent to kiss her cheek. Then her chin.

“I believe you.” She tipped her head back, offering him a better view of her beautiful neck.

Submission. The beast within him purred with delight.

Zayne pressed his lips to hers and delighted when she responded by deepening the kiss, pressing her body into his. But there was far too much fabric between them. He swept her from her seat and moved toward the room’s lone bed, hungry with the need to see her naked beneath him, to feel her cool center welcome him as the two became one.

Zayne laid them down, him atop her. She squirmed beneath him as though her conscience had suddenly grown wise to his intentions. Addie turned her face to break free from his kiss, but he was not to be refused. While she drew in a ragged breath, he placed a trail of kisses just beneath her jawline.

He nipped her earlobe while pressing his hardened length against the V of her legs. She let out a small mew, stoking the flame of desire within him further. He bent to kiss his way down her neck to nip at each of her peaks. Sharp intakes of breath greeted his ears at each taste, but rather than continue to squirm in an attempt to escape him, Addie arched into him, eager for more.

Zayne drew back to free himself of the clothing now restricting him so. Addie propped herself up on both elbows and arched a brow at him. It was a look she gave him often, one full of challenge.

“What if we get caught?”

He kicked his clothes aside and pushed her skirts up to expose her undergarments—which he quickly removed. Zayne lowered to his knees beside the bed and pulled her close, answering not with words but with a lap of his tongue. Addie drew in a sharp breath beyond the mountain of fabric that was her gown. She tasted as sweet as ever. Perhaps sweeter from the oils and herbs with which her royal maidens had bathed her.