by Kyra Jacobs
At long last, she reached the bottom step and found her lover pacing back and forth just beyond the landing. Quinn was clothed, the princess was happy to see. The last thing Rosalind had wanted to spy upon her arrival was him pleasuring himself with the meddling woodland whore. Though, she thought with growing ire, it wouldn’t be the first time she had encountered as much.
“Well? Did you find her?”
Quinn drew to a halt but did not turn to face her. “Aye.”
“And?”
A moment of silence passed between them so long that Rosalind began to wonder if he’d not heard her. “And?”
“She is here.”
“Excellent.” She stepped forward, eager to see the woman for herself, but Quinn moved to block her path. “What are you doing? Leave me pass.”
“’Tis something you should know before you enter.” Still, he refused to meet her gaze.
“Did you have your way with her?” Heat rose in her cheeks when he didn’t answer. “Did you? It wasn’t enough that my betrothed has been bedding the whore, but now you have gone and done so as well?”
“No, my lady,” he said. “But—”
The tension in her spine eased minutely. “But what?”
Now his dark gaze found hers. Never before had her fearless warrior looked so unsettled.
“Her eyes, Your Highness. She has Tristan’s eyes.”
* * * * *
Queen Helena sipped tea, her gaze unfocused on the fire Thomasina had recently stoked. The cup quaked in her hand, its contents sloshing gently within its confines. She’d summoned what bravery she had left to urge her son into action. But now…
Helena dragged in a shaky breath. She’d gone to Berinon months ago, implored him to save Zayne from the same fate she’d been forced to endure. The wizard had resisted at first, but upon her insistence eventually promised her he would do what he could. From that moment on, the queen had held out hope, had waited and waited for this very day to arrive. And yet now that it was here, fear consumed her.
Fear for Zayne. Fear for the girl.
Fear of failure.
“Ah, I know that look all too well.”
Her gaze shifted toward the sound and refocused with surprise on Berinon himself, standing several paces to her left. Tears welled in her eyes. “What have I done?”
“A selfless act, one made out of love. The true love only a mother can afford.”
“And if he dies?” Her voice broke on the last word. “Then what?”
“He will not,” Berinon said. “Not this day, nor any close to it.”
“Nor his mate?”
Berinon shook his head. “Nor his mate.”
“But how do you know?”
“Trust me. I know. Though, she still has yet to decide whether she shall bind herself to him or not.”
Helena studied her dearest childhood friend and first love for a long moment. He’d grown more handsome with each passing year, the crazed look of youth smoothing to one of wisdom, of confidence. When in her moment of greatest distress, she’d run to him for help, not to her own husband. Had her heart betrayed them all?
“I asked you to bring my son the perfect mate, one that would awaken his very soul.”
“Aye. And I did.”
“Then if she is truly his divine mate, the one soul which is a perfect match for his own, what interest could King Jarin possibly have in her?”
A smile stretched wide beneath the wizard’s bearded face as he took the seat across the hearth from hers. “I thought you would never ask.”
* * * * *
Rosalind stared at Quinn in disbelief. “Impossible.”
“How many others have you witnessed, my lady, with eyes like his?”
“Not a one. Not even our father has eyes that color blue.”
“Nor have I,” Quinn said. “But I swear to you now, hers are a perfect match.”
“How can that be? Perhaps she is a distant cousin of Tristan’s? Someone from his mother’s side of the family?”
He shook his head. “The resemblance between her and your brother is too striking.”
“But his twin died in the womb,” she cried, raking a hand through her hair. “She died the same time as his mother!”
“Or so the story was told.”
“It was no story, it was the truth!” Rosalind’s eyes flashed to his. “I must see her for myself. You, go find the oldest servant in the castle. Do whatever it takes to learn what they know.”
“My lady, until we know for sure—”
“Yes, yes, I will not hurt her,” she growled. “Not until I know whether or not she is who you say.”
“And your brother? Your father?”
She grabbed his tunic. “Tell no one of what you have seen. No one.”
Quinn gave her a single nod then hurried toward the steps. Rosalind turned from his retreating figure and drew in a steadying breath. When that did little to calm her racing heart, she took another.
He had to be wrong. Too many blows to the head, perhaps. One look and she would know…and then their plan to gain control of Edana could recommence.
Rosalind strode forward, her confidence renewed as she stepped into the adjoining room. The air here was cooler and forever damp, courtesy of the underground stream running along the chamber’s far wall. Several torches had been lit throughout the space, which cast a haunted glow upon various abandoned torture devices.
Abandoned, that is, save one. The rack in the center of the room was tipped back, a slight, squirming figure chained to it. Rosalind remained in the shadows and watched the harlot’s pointless struggle in silence. Even from this distance, she could see the resemblance to Tristan. The girl had the same golden hair, the same shape to her chin, her nose, her neck. And when at last the maiden’s gaze fell upon Rosalind, there was no denying that her eyes did indeed share the same shade of blue as the prince’s.
Still, there was no proof. And aside from Quinn, no witnesses either. With a smile, Rosalind stepped forward.
“So, you are the one who has brought such turmoil to our lands?”
The girl’s crystalline eyes flashed with rage. “Who are you?”
“Ah ah ah, I shall ask the questions, girl. And if you have any brains in that pretty little head of yours, you would be wise to answer them.”
Rosalind came to stand before her. She was a beauty, this fair maiden. Her features slight, her skin flawless. And those eyes… The princess looked away. It was too much like staring at her brother, and never could she cause him the pain she planned to inflict upon this girl. Her hands clenched into fists as she remembered her promise to Quinn. Though, as he had so often shown her, promises were meant to be broken.
“Of course, it would be pointless to lie.” She waved a hand at the rack’s crank. “We have ways to bring forth the truth.”
The girl barked a laugh and shifted her gaze to the ceiling. “You wouldn’t believe the truth.”
“I will be the judge of that. Shall we start with a few easy questions? What is your name, girl?”
“Adelaide Miller.”
“Adelaide,” Rosalind echoed. “An uncommon name in these lands. From which village do you hail?”
“None you’re familiar with.”
Her bold words surprised the princess; few spoke to her in such a way. “Do not try my patience, girl. From where do you hail?”
“Indiana. Fort Wayne, to be specific.”
“There is no such place.”
Adelaide issued a weary sigh. “I told you you wouldn’t believe me.”
Rosalind’s eyes narrowed. The girl didn’t appear to be lying. Still… “How did you come to find Prince Zayne?”
The girl’s gaze flashed to hers. “You leave him out of this.”
“Possessive of your new lover, I see.” Rosalind trailed a hand along the rack’s sleek handle. “Need I ask again, or would you prefer a small stretch?”
“Please, don’t,” Adelaide whispered as the first glimmer
of fear flashed in her eyes. “I didn’t find him. He found me.”
Rosalind moved closer. “Continue.”
“I—I was jogging, just outside of London, the day before my photo shoot. This car swerved at me, and I dove out of the way, but then I was falling and falling, and when I landed, I was in these strange woods.” Her gaze turned pleading. “I know this all sounds crazy, but you have to believe me.” She shook her head. “I heard something coming, so I tried to run away, but then I twisted my ankle, and it slowed me down. Suddenly there was a pack of wolves, snapping and growling at me, until th-this giant dragon swooped in and drove them back.”
“Let me guess,” Rosalind said, her tone flat. “It was a giant golden dragon.”
Adelaide’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Yes, and I freaked out because I’d never seen anything like that before. I stumbled back but must have hit my head, because the next thing I know, I’m waking up to some middle-aged woman asking me to help pull an arrow from the beast’s side.”
“How convenient.”
Anger returned to the girl’s eyes. “He’ll come for me, you know.”
“Indeed, I expect him to come.” Rosalind smiled. “Truth be told, you could not have chosen a better time to arrive in our lands. I was beginning to think my betrothed would never willingly come for me.”
“Your…your what?”
“Did he not tell you of our engagement?” Rosalind took in the girl’s surprise, and a laugh bubbled out of her. “Oh, dear. It seems your match made in heaven may not be as such after all.”
“You’re lying. You’re…you’re just saying that to upset me.”
“I assure you, girl, I am not. Prince Zayne and I have been engaged for nearly a year now, an arrangement devised by our scheming fathers. Once our two families join, both sides have pledged to cease their battles and allow peace to rule the lands.”
“You mean…this is Forath?”
“Indeed. And I am its princess.” She cast a dark look back toward the door. “Its only princess.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Zayne and his band of dragon warriors landed inside Edana’s castle wall just as dawn began to pinken the sky. Only he and Brom transformed into their human shape, and both immediately headed for the queen’s chambers. They eliminated the guards outside her door in quick order, then hurried inside.
“Mother,” Zayne called, dashing to her side.
She drew him close as though he were a fragile toddler, not a full-grown man. “Zayne.”
“Father? Is he…?”
“Awake? No, he slumbers still.”
“Then I seek your approval as ruler in his stead. Forath has sent its soldiers—”
“To steal back your mate. I know that, my son.”
Zayne blinked at her. “But…how?”
“I told her,” spoke a deep voice to his left.
The prince spun to find Berinon stepping out from the shadows. “You. Do you have any idea the troubles caused by your meddlesome ways, wizard?”
“So quick to blame those around you,” Berinon said. “And yet you fail to place blame on the most obvious culprit.”
“Who is?”
“Why yourself, sire. Had you not fallen in love with the lass, none of us would be here now would we?”
Zayne rose to his feet with a roar. “How dare you accuse me of—”
“Of what?” Berinon asked, his tone mild. “Falling in love?”
“Zayne, please,” his mother begged. “Hear him out.”
“I’ve no time to listen to this crazy man’s dribble. Every moment that passes without action could be one closer to Adelaide’s demise!”
“And I insist that unless you listen to what I have to say, she will ultimately meet her demise.”
Zayne looked from the wizard to his mother, who nodded in encouragement. With a growl, he raked both hands through his hair. Now? They wanted to have a leisurely chat now?
“Speak, wizard. And do so quickly.”
“As you wish, sire.” Edana’s high wizard bowed. “Your mate is not who you think she is.”
Zayne stared at the man in disbelief. “You…you mean to tell me she is not Adelaide? Who is she then, a witch? A spy?”
“No. Addie is Addie, but she does not hail from another realm, merely another kingdom: Forath. She is King Jarin’s lost daughter.”
“Lost daughter?” Zayne asked. “The twin who was said to have died at birth? Have you gone mad?”
“Hardly, Your Highness. The woman you know to be Adelaide Miller was born Juliana, twin to Tristan, children of King Jarin and his first wife, Queen Vanora. But their births were too much for the petite queen, and her life began to fade just moments afterward. The king loved his wife dearly and ordered their nurse to save her at any cost. But the nurse was no witch, and thus unable to cast the spells necessary to save Vanora. She sent word to her sister, a skilled witch, but the woman did not arrive in time. Overcome with grief, the king sentenced the nurse to die for her incompetence. She was beheaded that very night.
“When word reached the witch of her sister’s ruthless demise, she stole into the royal nursery and took the newborn daughter, leaving but a brief note behind: A life for a life. When the king awoke in the morning, he believed his daughter dead, and everyone within the castle walls heard his mournful cries.
“But the babe was not dead. Though filled with vengeance, the witch could not bring herself to harm the innocent child. Instead, she brought the child to Forath’s high wizard and demanded he put a curse upon the child. ‘Cast her from our realm,’ she said, and threatened to inflict a plague on the kingdom if he refused. So the wizard did as he was asked. But he felt pity for his grieving king and whispered an addition to the curse, saying it could be reversed by the selfless act of a mother’s true love. The child vanished from sight, but the witch knew she had been tricked. Rather than cause more bloodshed, she cast a spell on the wizard and his apprentice, preventing them from telling another living soul about either the curse or its cure until the curse had been lifted.”
Zayne’s gaze slowly shifted from Berinon to his mother. “It was you who broke the curse?”
The smile on her face widened. “So it seems. Though, I knew not of the curse nor its remedy, merely that I longed for my son to find his true love.”
“Fortunately for Adelaide, they were one and the same,” Berinon added softly.
Zayne looked back to him. “But what proof do we have of all this? How can we be certain the legend is true?”
“Because,” Berinon said, “I was the apprentice.”
* * * * *
Rosalind withdrew from the dungeon and returned to ground level, intent on locating Quinn. She’d resisted the urge to hurt Adelaide, to torture the girl for making a mockery of her name, but if there was the slightest chance the girl was indeed Tristan’s twin, then she’d also be Rosalind’s half sister. Her older half sister.
And that would complicate her plans infinitely.
Even so, Rosalind felt the nearly overwhelming desire to retreat to the cellar and strike sense into the girl. Not because Adelaide may well have stolen her betrothed’s heart, but because of the hope that had shone so brightly in the girl’s eyes when she insisted Zayne would come for her. No woman should rely on a man so heavily, or believe him to give his love so freely.
Love, Rosalind thought with a snort. An emotion missing from this castle since the day her mother grew ill and died soon after. Even while the queen lived, Rosalind’s father had never looked at her with the same kindness and affection he offered to his son. And in the darkest of nights, those hellish months after the queen died, when nightmares drove the princess to cry out in her sleep, it wasn’t the king who drew near to comfort her small frame but a royal servant sent to quiet her. Not that she could ever blame her father. Rosalind was, after all, a reminder of a second wife lost, and of the first daughter who hadn’t been so lucky to survive.
Or had she?
Fury hastened her
steps, and Rosalind soon found Quinn in the servant’s kitchen. He was alone, save for an elderly cook whom he had pinned by the throat to the room’s side wall. The woman’s gaze was filled with terror, her face red from lack of breath.
“Well?” the princess demanded of Quinn. “What have you found?”
“Tell her what you told me,” he said to the woman in a low growl, and relaxed his grip on her throat ever so slightly. “And do not lie, or never shall you speak again.”
“Y-yes, sire,” she said with a small nod. “The king’s first wife, Queen Vanora, blessed him with two children.”
“But only one lived,” Rosalind said as though speaking the words would make them true.
But the old woman shook her head. “Both survived the day, though their mother did not. The king was stricken with grief, he loved his Vanora, and ordered the nurse be killed when she was unable to save the queen. The nurse’s sister, a powerful witch, heard the news and came to the castle that night seeking vengeance. She stole into the nursery and took a child, the daughter, and left a note in her place. ‘A life for a life,’ it read.”
Shock rendered Rosalind speechless. A babe, stolen in the night from within the castle’s very walls?
“And the child?” Quinn demanded. “Was she found?”
“N-no, sire. The king sent his men to search high and low for the girl, but neither she nor the witch were seen again.”
“Could the girl have been hidden?” Rosalind’s voice rose as the veil of shock lifted from her mind. “Disguised as another in neighboring Edana?”
“N-no, Your Highness,” the old woman said. “The high wizard has been ordered to use his most powerful seeking spells once a year, each year since their disappearances, but never did they find either woman.”
Relief washed over Rosalind so strongly she nearly collapsed. “Well,” she said, meeting Quinn’s gaze. “It seems our concerns were a bit premature.”
“Aye.” Quinn dropped his hand. The old cook slumped to the ground with a soft thud. “Shall I…?” He rested his hand on the hilt of his sheathed dagger and nodded toward the old cook.
“Let her live.” Rosalind narrowed her eyes toward the woman. “But tell no one of our conversation, or I will send him for your heart.”