Rhys started. Morwenna stood near the entrance to the little gully, her hand clamped around the hilt of a slender sword sheathed at her hip. Her sleek brown hair was pulled back, sharpening her fox-like features. Despite the weather, she wore only fitted pants tucked into boots and a loose tunic belted at her waist. Like him, she was a Fire Elemental. Cold couldn’t touch her.
Rhys gritted his teeth against the ache of muscles too long in one position and pushed himself to his feet. He staggered to a pile of unmelted snow and used it to scrub what mud he could from his hands and clothes. “She needs me. I won’t leave her.”
“Is that why you insist on putting yourself through this? Because she needs you? What a clichéd, male thing to say. Maybe if I was weak you would’ve had a harder time tossing me aside.”
“Kai is not weak.” Rhys put a hand against the rock wall of the canyon to steady himself. Orange flames sparked at his fingertips. “And this is not the time.”
Morwenna ignored him. “I understand that you want to save her. She’s necessary for the future. I even stand by you, or I would have left and joined the rogues when Ashem’s Wingless let me out of the cells.”
Rhys’s jaw tightened, and not only because she’d called Juliet King “Wingless” instead of using her name—though if Ashem, their vee commander and Juli’s mate, heard her, he’d be less than happy. Morwenna had had plenty of reason to leave. To hate him. He’d hidden Kai from her because of their past. Then, when she’d been accused of being a spy, he hadn’t stood by her. “Morwenna—”
She slashed the air with her hand. “You don’t need to sit here and suffer because she’s suffering. Close your mind to her, Rhys. You’re barely functional. We need a king. A leader. Not a martyr.”
The small flames at his fingertips flared, scorching the stone. “You would have done the same for Iain. You know what it’s like to love like this.”
She shook her head. “I know how mad being heartsworn can make you. Take it from someone on the other side, the feelings you have for Kai aren’t real. They’re lust and obsession and infatuation. Don’t let the magic cloud your good sense.”
“You’re wrong.” If she’d ever questioned her love for Iain, this was the first Rhys had heard of it. Ancients knew she’d had to claw her way back from the brink after his death. “I love Kai. Magic or no.”
Morwenna’s face turned sour. She shrugged. “I suppose you’ll never know.”
Rhys spoke through his teeth. “Go back to camp. I need a minute.”
“I’m not leaving—”
“I said go.”
There must have been something in his voice. Fraying edges. Desperation. Rage, maybe. Instead of arguing, she glared, then stalked out of the ravine.
Rhys tipped his face to the stars, so numerous he felt he’d traveled back two hundred years, before humans had clouded the air and lit the night. He reached out to Kai again, whether to comfort her or himself, he wasn’t sure. She’d fallen asleep.
She tended to sleep most of the time Owain wasn’t torturing her or parading her around Cadarnle. He worried about what that meant, just like he worried about the way she’d begun to shut away her emotions. The way she flinched whenever anyone—torturer or not—touched her.
Rhys ran a hand through his hair and smoothed it down again. She was all right for the moment, and brooding over her like a nesting mother would accomplish nothing. He forced his thoughts away from Kai, focusing on plans for the rescue.
They nearly hadn’t gotten everything together in time. It took a week to fly from Eryri in the South Pacific to Cadarnle in the Arctic Circle. He couldn’t make the trip there and back and meet the ultimatum. So he’d sent the wounded home and called out five more vees, plus Morwenna and Juli. He was ready to attack.
As he went over it all again, the shaky burn of adrenaline from Kai’s torture faded, replaced with cool, steely focus. To boost his confidence, Rhys reached into a pocket and pulled out an egg-sized sunstone—the record containing Seren’s last vision before her capture. Cadoc had picked it up from the rocky beach where she’d been abducted on the same day as Kai.
Rhys rolled the egg-sized gem in his palm. False fire gleamed orange and red in its depths. He wasn’t sure, but he thought Seren must have dropped the stone on purpose.
Thank the Ancients she had.
Unable to resist checking one more time, Rhys let his mind go blank and sought the faint vibration of magic coming from the stone. The world blurred and darkened. Images flared to life in his mind’s eye.
“Rhys stands face-to-face with his father. Ayen speaks.”Y Ddraig Goch ddyry cychwyn.” The red dragon will rise again. A golden dragon statuette tumbles from Ayen’s mouth. It’s the Sunrise Dragon—an artifact created by the Ancients that could heal the mantle and end the war.”
Flicker.
“A white viper coils around a snowy raven, constricting until delicate bones snap. Beside the snake, a golden canary sings in a cage. Flames rise up and race through the grass, surrounding the viper. He releases the raven, and the flames consume him.”
Flicker.
“Mount Snowdon—the Eryri of old—stands against a black sky, rived in two. The earth shakes. With a grinding shriek, the mountain crashes into itself. When the dust clears, the mountain is whole.”
Flicker.
“All the dragons of the Earth stand on an island half-buried in the sea, battling a rising tide. In a rush, dark water swallows them all.”
Rhys released the sunstone, and it splashed into the mud at his feet. Cursing, he bent to retrieve it. The vision was as it had been. No new details. No insights.
Perfect.
Ancients, he hoped he was interpreting it correctly. He’d had plenty of practice over the years, but he didn’t have Seren’s instinctive gift.
As well as he could guess, all of it had to do with the end of the war. The vision of his father meant that Ayen had known the location of the Sunrise Dragon—an artifact lost since before Rhys’s birth. As his father had been dead for a thousand years, that part of the vision wasn’t helpful.
The snake and the birds, however—that had given him everything. The viper was Owain. The flames were Rhys’s army. If he attacked Cadarnle while Owain held Kai and Seren, Rhys would win. Owain would die. The civil war that had dragged for a thousand years would end tonight. Owain would never control the full power of the mantle. Never have the chance to command every dragon on Earth to slaughter until humans were at the brink of annihilation.
Rhys stowed the stone in his pocket and tried not to think of the last image. All the dragons trapped, drowning. Dying because they could not defeat the tide that could only be the rise of humanity against them.
If he won, humans wouldn’t even know they existed.
One thing at a time. Shaking off a tendril of misgiving, Rhys stepped clear of the mud onto frozen dirt, then into calf-deep snow. Outside the ravine, the snow rose in drifts up to his hips. It melted at his touch, but the slog to camp was wet and less than enjoyable.
He passed the sentries, stopping only long enough for a Wonambi soldier to ensure that he wasn’t an assassin using illusion magic as a disguise. The tents had been pitched in concentric circles, growing smaller the farther in he walked toward the center. As he walked, he called for the vee commanders to assemble at his tent.
Time to make final plans.
His army wasn’t large by human standards, but the coming clash would be the largest dragons had seen in living memory. Larger, even, than the one two weeks ago over the Bering Sea.
The plan was reckless, but worth it, if Kai came home safely.
Unbidden, Morwenna’s voice entered Rhys’s mind. “...the feelings you have for Kai aren’t real. They’re lust and obsession and infatuation. Don’t let the magic cloud your good sense.”
He sho
ok his head. His feelings for Kai were real, and soon, he’d have her back.
Tonight, all of his struggles would be over.
Chapter Two
Last Day on Earth
Kai smiled at the man who was going to murder her.
Owain’s booted footsteps were quiet as he crossed to the bedroom half of her combination prison and torture chamber. Declining to rise from the ebony-inlaid table where she sat, Kai raised her water goblet to him, the necklace-fine chains around her fingers hissing as they slid across the jewel-encrusted gold.
She suppressed a frisson of fear at his presence. He’d already had his people hurt her twice today—electrocution in the morning and a beating in the afternoon. Despite her pretend nonchalance, her breathing quickened and went shallow. Not again. It can’t be time again. Please.
She slid the semitransparent shield she’d learned to make between herself and Rhys. Like the heartswearing version of a one-way mirror, she could still feel him—a connection she needed desperately—but he would only be vaguely aware of her, as if she’d fallen asleep. He didn’t know that Owain threw in extra torture sessions. Or that she hadn’t eaten for four days.
She was pretty sure most of the time he thought she was asleep.
But if Rhys was going to fight a battle tonight—to win, and get her out of here—she couldn’t let her panic distract him.
Owain stopped across the table, studying her with his awful, pale eyes. “Good evening.”
Please! The word almost escaped. But begging had never stopped him before, so Kai bit her tongue to keep it inside. Rage, disdain, the fire that spun like a hurricane inside her, barely held in by those fine chains—that was all she would feel. Not the fear. Not that harrowing, hollowing, sick-making terror.
Better to feel nothing than feel that. Like packing herself in ice, she grew more numb every day.
Owain crossed his arms, rumpling the navy fabric of his long coat. “Tell me, Kai. How much does Rhys ap Ayen love you?”
Kai raised an eyebrow and made herself take a slow swallow from her cup. She pictured the look on his face when Rhys’s army appeared in the constantly dark sky. Then she pictured his face when Rhys killed him. “Enough to kick your ass.”
Owain chuckled politely, like he was a good host and she’d made an unfunny joke. “If he’s going to save you, he’s cutting it close.”
Kai flicked a glance at the thirteen vertical lines she’d carved into the fancy pastoral mural on the wall. Tonight was New Year’s Eve. Over three months since she’d found dragons in the Rockies. Almost the same amount of time since she’d heartsworn to Rhys, one of two claimants to the title King of Dragons. Six weeks since she’d given up her life as a more or less normal college student and traveled to the South Pacific seat of Rhys’s kingdom. Three weeks since she’d allowed herself to admit she’d fallen in love with him. And thirteen days since becoming “the guest of honor” in Owain’s underground arctic stronghold.
Kai let her gaze wander back to the man in front of her. Tall, blond, handsome Owain. A man who wore the veneer of civilization like celebrities wore ceramic teeth. Bright and perfect on the outside, insides better off unseen.
“Where’s Jiang?” Kai asked. Owain was bad enough, but at least—weird as it was—Kai could tell torture made him uncomfortable. Jiang, though...Kai suspected watching the torture made it easier for her to forget that Kai was the “other” queen. The person who would take everything she wanted if Rhys won the war.
When he won the war, in just a few short hours.
“Busy.” Owain’s lip curled, but so slightly that Kai almost missed it. From what she’d seen, Owain and Jiang’s relationship was more about mutual benefit than any kind of affection. Unfortunately, that seemed to work for them. “I’m more interested in the whereabouts of my cousin.” The corner of his mouth quirked up.
That smile. It was Rhys’s smile.
Kai’s breath hitched. With that smile in front of her and Rhys’s presence at the back of her mind, it was almost like she could look into his fire-blue eyes. Touch the warm, red scales of the indicium that wound over the right half of his body. Feel the storm-heavy pressure of his presence surrounding her like a blanket. Safe, protected.
After two weeks of his constant presence in her mind, his sacrifice, his goodness, she loved Rhys so much she could hardly bear it. But safety was an illusion, and thoughts of Rhys threatened the numbness that had become the only tolerable state of mind since she’d become Owain’s captive. Thinking of him inevitably led to the idea that she might never see him again, and that would break down the door behind which she’d locked her fear and pain. Not just break it down, splinter it into microscopic bits.
So she locked her love behind it, too.
“I’ve told him not to come.” Kai set her goblet on the table with a clank. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?” The movement jarred her shoulder, and she hid a wince. The beating had been brutal.
At least Rhys didn’t know about it.
Owain pulled out the simple, elegantly carved wooden chair across from Kai and sat. “No.”
A wave of blond hair fell into Owain’s eyes, and he brushed it away with an elegant hand. Kai thought that he might be the most handsome man she’d ever seen. In a cold, plastic sort of way. He was definitely the most charismatic.
So like Rhys, yet so very opposite.
She gave him another empty smile. “What, then?”
His sigh was rueful. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to your death. If it comes to killing you, know that I will regret it far more than I will regret killing him.”
“Comforting.” Despite her belief in Rhys, a chill slid down her spine. Death. She was twenty years old.
She locked down her emotions before they could overwhelm her.
“Is it?” Owain leaned back, his posture one of such undeniable authority that the wooden chair suddenly seemed a throne. “The Seeress had a vision.”
A pithy response withered and died in her throat. A vision. Of all the things that could throw off Rhys’s plans, this was the one she’d feared the most. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was bone-dry. “Oh?”
Owain’s eyes found the mural Kai had scratched the days into, and his brows drew together. “She saw a great battle over Cadarnle. Which is interesting, as my scouts found an entire army camped three hours’ flight away early this morning.”
Her one-way shield slipped before she could stop it. The door that held back her emotions gave a little, and terror oozed around its edges.
“Kai?” Rhys’s voice, normally comforting. Not now. Not when that smug look on Owain’s face was telling her she would never see him again. “What happened?”
Kai wrung her chained fingers under the table, twisting until it hurt. Flippancy annoyed him the most, so she shrugged. But her shaking voice betrayed her. “If you know where he is, why haven’t you attacked?”
She kept her eyes focused on Owain while she answered Rhys. “He knows. Rhys, he found your army. He knows you’re coming.”
Rhys swore. “What does he know? Find out. If we get in the air now, we can get there before he’s had time to mount a defense.”
Kai told him about the scouts and Seren’s vision. “It will be okay, Monahan. He’s still coming for you. He won’t leave you here.”
Rhys sent her a thread of comfort, then his thoughts turned to everything he had to do. Strike camp, organize the vees, find Ashem...
“You think I’m lying?” Owain rubbed the outside of his right eye. Kai suspected he’d picked up the habit from wearing an eye patch. A necessity until recently, since Rhys—with Kai’s help—had burned that eye out of its socket three months ago. But Owain hadn’t had Seren in his possession for more than an hour before he’d forced her to heal it for him.
Poor Ser
en. So incredibly powerful, and still so defenseless. Kai took another drink of water, wetting her tongue enough to speak normally. “You aren’t answering my question.”
Under the table, she twisted her chains harder. She used to click her carabiners when she was nervous. Now that wasn’t enough. Not that she would have been able to click them anyway. Owain had taken her carabiners the first day she’d been here. Just like he’d taken her necklace, which he’d given to Jiang. Bastard.
Owain narrowed his eyes. “I dislike repeating myself. The only reason I haven’t ended this war in ice and blood is because this is not my war. My war is with humans. The more dragons I lose fighting Rhys, the fewer dragons I have to fight the real enemy. I haven’t attacked because I have chosen not to.”
Kai didn’t flinch at his anger, but she couldn’t stop the blood draining from her face. He’d never hurt her himself, but there was always a first time.
Owain rested his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. “Let me tell you about the vision. I hope you’re listening, cousin, because this is a good one.”
Kai got Rhys’s attention. He stopped shouting orders.
As if he knew he had Rhys’s attention again, Owain nodded. “In hours, Rhys and fifteen vees will attack Cadarnle. There will be a battle. Many will die.” A pause. “Including me.”
Everything went still. In Kai’s mind, Rhys might as well have turned to stone. It was the same vision he’d seen.
The seal over her emotions loosened, leaking hope. Maybe she could live. See Rhys again. Juli. Her family. If she could even see Ashem scowling at her, that would be something. This could work. Rhys would come, save her. Owain would die, die, die like she’d pictured so many times.
Owain smiled. She saw a flash of his teeth, white like a shark’s. “I see that pleases you. But you might want to tell him this: I won’t die until after I’ve killed you. The vision was quite clear.”
The seal fell back into place. Her hope turned brittle and sharp like broken glass sliding its edges across her heart. Good things turned wrong cut so much deeper than things that were bad from the beginning.
Truth of Embers Page 2