Page 6 of The Flame King's Queen

I lunge for my sister and cover her eyes.

Godric screams as he’s ripped in two with a sickening crunch of bones and tearing of flesh. The two dragons turn, holding the dripping hunks of mangled flesh, and with swings of their massive heads, they fling them to opposite horizons.

Zabriel takes a step toward me, his head hanging low, every movement a painful effort.

“Who are the other traitors,Ma’len?” Fiala asks in a hoarse voice. “Where are they?”

Zabriel falls to his knees at my feet. He struggles for breath, and manages to say, “Sha—” before the rest is lost in a bout of coughing. Alarming quantities of blood spurt from his throat and run in crimson rivers down my skirt.

“Help me with him, please,” I implore the others.

“Sha’len.” He presses his palm against the curve of my belly. “Thank the gods you’re both safe.”

My eyes widen. I stare at his hand pressed against my stomach, and he feels as icy as death through my clothes.

Both of us?

Zabriel’s eyes roll back in his head, and he crumples to the ground where he lies as still and as bloodless as a drained corpse.

I scream, and all the portals to the ethereal plane snap closed at once.

3

Isavelle

Stesha carries Zabriel back to Lenhale on Nilak, as he’s the only one who’s strong enough to keep Zabriel in the saddle. I follow on Esmeral with Scourge bringing up the rear. Fiala, Dusan, and Ashton are bringing my family home safely.

I clutch the saddle with white-knuckled hands, trying to quell the panic that is threatening to overwhelm me. What happened to my mate while we were separated? I imagine him stabbed and beaten by traitors or attacked by one of Emmeric’s terrible spells. He could be poisoned or bespelled. He could have twisting black vines growing inside his lungs. I picture them growing around his heart and piercing him with thorns, just like how my brother and mother were killed, and a sob rises in my throat.

As we reach Lenhale and spiral into land, Nilak screams in a pitch I’ve never heard before. It sounds like an alarm call. She’s joined by Scourge, and then my own dragon. The three of them are loud enough that they must be heard across the entire city.

We land at the dragongrounds, and I run to Nilak just as Stesha is carefully laying Zabriel’s motionless body on the ground.

“He lives, but he’s barely breathing,” Stesha tells me as I fall to my knees at Zabriel’s side.

Soldiers andHratha’lenare running across the bridge toward us. The whole flare is calling out and has brought them to us. Zabriel is lifted onto a stretcher and carried into the castle. As I hurry along by his side, I grip his cold, unresponsive fingers. His flesh is waxy and pale, and there’s not a spark of anything in his face. Last time he was injured, he was making me blush because the pain, blood loss, and his rut lowered his inhibitions so much that everyone heard him proclaim how much he adored his Omega. Later, I scolded him as he made love to me too vigorously.

In the temple, the priestesses remove my mate’s armor and cut his clothing from his body to reveal an awful sight. The jagged edges of broken ribs are poking through his flesh.

The Temple Crone examines him. “DidMa’lenfall from his dragon?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. Maybe if Scourge was attacked, Zabriel might have been thrown off his feet by a spell. Emmeric was in the ethereal plane. Why are his hands so cold? Why is he so pale? There’s barely any blood on him.”

“The bleeding is in his lungs,Ma’len’smate. He’s been coughing it up, but now he’s drowning in it. Please step back.”

I give theHratha’lenspace and reluctantly let go of Zabriel’s hand. Three Temple Mothers move close to examine his wounds, his bones, and listen to his breathing and heartbeat. Zabriel is strong and healthy. He’s been burned, stabbed, and fought in dozens of battles. There’s no chance that he’ll die now. I refuse to believe it’s possible.

“Isa-velle,” Zabriel wheezes and then coughs weakly.

Blood bubbles up from between his lips. Surely that’s a good sign, that he’s getting it out, but the Temple Crone looks more worried than ever.

I step forward and seize his hand. “I’m here. Don’t try to talk.”

Zabriel can’t seem to focus his gaze on me, and I’m not sure that he heard me. The fingers that hold mine are cold and weak.

“Let me touch you both…one last time.”

My eyes fill with tears as he fumbles for my stomach.

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