Page 32 of The Flame King's Queen

“You both did everything that you could,” Zabriel tells him.

Stesha shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have taken Zenevieve with me. It should have just been me, and then maybe I could have killed Emmeric, and she wouldn’t have had to—” Anger suffuses the dragonmaster’s expression, and he looks as though he wants to break something. He strides from the room.

Sadly, I go over to Zabriel and put my hand on his chest. “Do you think Stesha is right, that he could have killed Emmeric today?”

He sighs. “I believe that Stesha believes it. He dearly wanted to avenge Zenevieve for all that Emmeric put her through.”

All he put her through. What a ghastly thought, and she remembers everything now.

“But who can say if he could have managed it? Zenevieve has her memories back, and whether that is a curse or a blessing, only time will tell. I am sorry for both her and Stesha. I would lose my mind if anything like that happened to you. You know that, don’t you?”

I stroke his cheek with my fingers. “Yes, I know.”

“I think I would burn the whole world down, not caring that everyone died, so long as Emmeric was one of them.”

“At least today he’s bleeding.”

“He is?”

“Didn’t you see the blood on Stesha’s white battle armor?” There were bloodstains on Stesha’s right side and sleeve. His sword arm.

Understanding dawns on Zabriel’s face. “No one has been able to touch Emmeric in centuries, but Stesha made him bleed.”

“We will defeat Emmeric. He might be immortal, but he is not infallible.”

It takes several weeks,but eventually Zabriel begins to feel differently about the battle. Better. What changes his mind isn’t his obsessive reading of reports filed by dragonriders and wingrunners, or patrolling the site of the battle on Scourge. It’s that our baby starts to show in my belly.

In bed one morning, Zabriel is caressing my stomach as spring sunshine filters through the curtains. His eyes are closed, and his face is peaceful. Suddenly, he frowns and sits up, fingers splayed across my flesh.

“Sha’lenla. You…” A smile breaks over his face. “You are round with our child.”

I prop myself up on my elbows and look at myself. I’ve been wondering if my belly is rounder, but it’s difficult to tell when it’s rounded already. This morning, there does seem to be a difference. “I think you’re right.”

He rolls on top of me and kisses me. “It’s all the hard work I’ve been putting in to help the baby grow strong.”

He means us having sex at every opportunity. “Your hard work,” I scoff. “I think most of the hard work growing this baby has been mine.” But I’m smiling as I kiss him.

Zabriel leaves our bed that morning with a lighter step and a straighter back. I think he’s remembered that there are things to look forward to other than the death of the man he once called his brother.

On my last visit to the village, Mistress Hawthorne gave me an armload of fresh herbs and spring cuttings that have various uses for expectant mothers and new babies. I hung them up in little bundles to dry, and now they’re ready to be processed. I spend a pleasant morning with Santha and Posette, grinding up the herbs, measuring them into packets, and making various creams and tinctures.

I’m absentmindedly tugging at my tight bodice when Santha looks up from her work and smiles at me.

“My lady, we must invite the seamstresses to return. Soon none of your clothes will fit.”

I stare at my belly, trying to imagine how it will feel as I grow even bigger and bigger. “At least the weather is becoming warmer so I can put on loose gowns, but I suppose I will have to have things tailored for flying. I hope I still fit on my poor little dragon as the months pass.”

I’m mostly joking. Esmeral might be small for a dragon, but she’s very strong. She helped me carry my siblings’ crib back from Amriste so that I might use it for my own child. I thought Zabriel might object, saying he wanted a much grander piece of furniture for the royal baby, but all he did was admire the craftsmanship, the carving, and the polished wood. Then he kissed the top of my head and told me Omega mothers are the most doting, beautiful mothers, and he was so proud of me. I feel all warm and squishy inside whenever I remember that.

After lunch, I spend time with Esmeral at the dragongrounds, along with Fiala and Dusan. My dragon chirrups and nuzzles at my belly, greeting the baby as well as greeting me. She hasn’t yet shown any sign of nesting outside her heats, but she seems enthusiastic about the prospect of having her own hatchlings.

My escorts and I take the long way back from the dragongrounds and pass by the wyvern eyrie as Fiala wants to check on Kagin. “He’s had a patch of flaky skin on his wing that won’t heal. It always happens when the weather changes.”

The enormous silvery creature is tucked up sleepily in the warm, straw-filled eyrie, and he yawns widely when we approach him, showing off his rows of sharp, glinting teeth. Fiala fusses over him as if he is at death’s door, and Dusan helps her apply lotion to the affected spot by holding his wing. Kagin only snaps at him a little. Dusan tuts good-naturedly at the wyvern, but he doesn’t flinch.

Fiala is smiling as we leave the eyrie. “I think he’s finally getting better.”

I remember how my sister’s eyes became fixed to the skies whenever a wyvern passed overhead. Anise might have as much affinity for the creatures as my bodyguards do. Thinking of my sister, I lift my eyes to the heavens and notice a wyvern returning to the eyrie. I wonder what Anise is doing now, and if the skies above the village feel empty to her now that there are no wings to fill it.

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