Page 55 of The Flame King's Queen

“Ma’len, you must release your lady so she can come back to you as queen,” the maids scold me.

Isavelle is giggling, half out of bed with the maids holding her hands while I trail kisses down her leg, her ankle, and finally her toes as her foot slips through my fingers. “I will be waiting in the Great Hall,” I shout after them as they take her away to bathe and dress. “Don’t be too long or I will come get you myself.”

I still don’t like being parted from my mate, but Fiala and Dusan are waiting outside the door to escort Isavelle, and they won’t let her out of their sight. As long as they are with her, or I am, she will be safe.

I haven’t worn my ceremonial golden armor since my own coronation, and it feels exciting to put it on today, as well as the crown that adorns my head. With a red cloak affixed to my shoulders, I walk to the Great Hall, feeling everyone’s eyes on me. I’m more comfortable in my battle-scarred black armor, but today I feel a certain amount of pride as I feel myself gleaming and catching so much attention. I always knew that one day I’d be king, and I’d crown my queen, but the idea of being king was always off-putting because it reminded me too much of my father. When I consider everything Isavelle and I have been through together, from battle-torn Maledin, through our challenging heats and ruts, assassination attempts, and navigating the turmoil of our murdered and missing villagers, we’ve only grown stronger together. I can be a different kind of king, and Isavelle makes that joyful.

I wait with my hand resting on the hilt of a golden sword, my chin raised. Hundreds of people are waiting with me, talking excitedly in whispers and staring at me. Close to the front are my dragonriders, and every time they grin at me, I can’t help but smile back. We have accomplished so much, they and I, and these Dragon Games are for them. The people will see how fierce and loyal our dragons are, right here in the skies over Maledin.

The doors to the Great Hall creak open, and everyone whirls around. I’m up on the dais, but my mate is small, and I have to crane my neck to see the top of her golden head as she walks through the crowd, which parts around her like water flowing around river stones. I smile when I see that she’s not alone, and her arm is looped through her father’s. He appears somber, but when he glances at his daughter, a smile appears on his lips.

Then the crowd parts further, and I see her properly.

My breath catches in my throat as Isavelle’s turquoise eyes shine up at me, full of hope and love. She wears a long, gleaming golden dress that flows over her baby bump, and the tips of her fingers are decorated with pretty golden talons. How beautiful she is. When she reaches the dais, she kisses her father on the cheek, and then climbs the few steps to meet me. I hold out my hands to her.

“Look at you,sha’lenla,” I murmur, my eyes roving over her. “You’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

She strokes my cheek, and I duck my head to kiss her. I can’t help but seek the scars on the nape of her neck that I put there, hidden by her hair.

The Temple Crone steps forward, bearing a cushion with a crown. Isavelle’s crown is golden and inlaid with carved turquoise scales. I pick it up with both hands and turn to my mate.

I remember the first time I saw her, amid the smoke and chaos of battle. A small figure smothered in white cloth, terrified for her life. The wind changed, and her delicate veil blew up into the air, and I caught her scent, and without knowing what she looked like or who she was, I knew she was mine forever.

I place the crown atop her flowing golden hair, and she beams up at me with love in her eyes. “I’m so proud that you’re my queen. I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

“Zabriel,” is all she can manage to whisper as tears shimmer in her eyes.

I lean down and kiss her, and distantly I’m aware of the sound of stomping feet, applause, and whistling.

We sit together upon the twin golden thrones so that everyone in the Great Hall can see us together, but we keep our hands joined because we can’t bear not to be touching, and I can’t keep the smile from my face. I like this far better than my own coronation. That day was a little too stiff and cold, and I didn’t enjoy standing up here all alone. There was something missing, and I knew what. I searched the crowd for a sight of her, but Isavelle eluded me.

My hand tightens on hers. But I have her now.

Turning to my queen, I say to her, “There are more people outside. Shall we go out upon the balcony so that they may all see their new queen?”

I help her to her feet, and looping her arm through mine, we step outside and climb up onto the battlements where the residents of Lenhale are gathered below. When they see Isavelle dressed in gold and wearing her crown, the cheers are deafening.

There are just two dragons in the sky, one enormous and black, and the other nimble and turquoise. They fly together, moving in a synchronous, joyful manner across the skies. Esmeral dives toward the castle walls and snatches up something in her teeth. It’s a banner, and as she flies through the skies, the rolled-up fabric unfurls behind her, long and streaming in the wind. On it are the silhouettes of all the dragons in the flare, and another cheer goes up from the crowd below.

I feel my heart race. The Dragon Games have begun.

20

Zabriel

Afew hours later, I’ve changed out of my gold armor and into my well-worn, comfortable black leather riding clothes. Isavelle is still wearing her coronation dress, though she’s taken off the heavy ceremonial crown. Like me, she’ll only wear it rarely on important occasions. Down here at the dragongrounds it’s unnecessary.

As we stand by Scourge discussing the event that’s about to begin, Esmeral is preening and rubbing against Isavelle, trilling and chirruping with pride that her rider is the newly crowned Queen of Maledin. Isavelle breaks off what she was saying, laughs, and wraps her arm around the little dragon.

“She’s proud of me, and she’s so excited to watch you and her mate in this event,” Isavelle tells me with a huge smile, though I could have guessed it from Esmeral’s behavior. “She wishes you both clear skies.”

“I thank you, Esmeral,” I tell her with a courteous nod and smile.

Esmeral looks up at her mate and calls to him. The sky over us darkens as Scourge lowers his massive head toward here. The two dragons press their brows together, and they close their eyes for a moment.

Isavelle pulls a ribbon from her hair, and it flutters in her fingers. “May I tie my favor around your arm, my king?”

Surprised, I watch as she ties the thin band of gold around my bicep, leaving the two ends fluttering in the breeze.

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