Page 9 of The Flame King's Queen

He nods jerkily and holds my hand just as tightly in return. I can feel his determination. It hurts so much, but he doesn’t want to go anywhere.

“You must drink this,Ma’len. It will replenish your blood.” The Temple Crone holds a cup containing a strange-smelling drink. I help him sit up a little, and he splutters as he drinks but manages to swallow it down.

At a nearby table, a Temple Mother is working fast to create another draft, grinding, measuring, and mixing as fast as she can. As soon as it’s ready, she hurries over with it to the crone, who makes Zabriel drink that one as well.

When the priestesses step back, Zabriel is sweating and still in pain, but his breathing has evened out and blood no longer seeps from between his lips. The crone examines him carefully and listens to him inhale and exhale with her ear pressed against his ribs.

She straightens up. “Ma’len’sheartbeat has strengthened, and his lungs are clearing.” To him, she adds, “Rest quietly,Ma’len. You must not move while the dragon magic works on you and your bones are resetting.”

I don’t think Zabriel heard a word she said. He reaches for me and pulls me close. A little warmth and strength have already returned to his body. I throw both my arms around his neck and hold him as tight as I can.

“You found me,” he whispers into my hair. “You found me.”

“I was so afraid. You weren’t moving. You weren’t breathing. Esmeral was the one who knew you needed Omega blood, and I don’t know how, but I found you in that dark place with thatthing.” I can’t stop shaking as I hold on to my mate, terrified that my beautiful man will be taken from me yet again.

“Ma’len’smate, please allow me to bandage your arm.”

I hold Zabriel for a little longer, and then slowly sit up to see Mother Linnea standing by my side with a bowl of ointment and a roll of bandages. While I grip Zabriel’s hand, I allow her to bandage up my slashed forearm.

Mother Linnea finishes by cleaning blood from my fingers and Zabriel’s chin and throat. “You are both so brave and beautiful. And so very lucky.”

When she leaves, the other priestesses draw back as well, giving us some privacy. I put my arm around Zabriel’s neck, holding as much of him as I can.

“Sha’lenla, your poor arm. You had to cut yourself to save me.” He touches my cheek with so much regret, as if he’s the one who wielded the knife that sliced my flesh.

Sha’lenla. That’s the second time he’s called me that. “What is the meaning of that word?”

A smile curves his lips, and he gently strokes my cheek. “Little dragon mother. Mother of my child.” Despite the dark smudges under his eyes and his pale skin, Zabriel’s smile is beautiful. “My Omega is pregnant after just one heat.” He trails his hand down my throat, over my breasts, and presses it against my stomach. His large fingers splay over my belly.

“I’m really carrying your baby? Are you sure?”

“Your scent is sweet with your pregnancy. The gods are smiling on us.”

Considering recent events—including betrayals, attacks, and near-death experiences—it doesn’t feel like anything is smiling on us. If anything, the gods seem deranged with fury at us. But if we’re both alive, and I’m pregnant, then maybe he’s right.

Tentatively, I cover his hand with my own, cupping him against my belly. Our baby. Can it be real? I’m having Zabriel’s baby. I feel tears prickle in my eyes as my heart slowly fills up with hope.

“When will we tell everyone?” I whisper.

Zabriel chuckles softly. “What do you mean tell? How could we possibly keep it a secret? Your scent is already growing sweeter and stronger. Everyone will know. You needn’t say a word.”

I gaze at my hands cupping his fingers against my stomach for a long time. When I look up, Zabriel’s eyelids are heavy with exhaustion.

“The most beautiful Omega in the world, and my baby is in her belly. I have never deserved you,sha’lenla,” he whispers, and then closes his eyes.

Esmeral has been keeping very still to one side, knowing that fully grown dragons are not meant to be in the Flame Temple. No one has tried to shoo her out yet because she saved the king’s life.

Now she moves quietly forward and rests her head on Zabriel’s thighs. Together with my dragon, I watch his chest rise and fall as he sleeps for many inches of candle, grateful for every breath he takes.

6

Isavelle

Zabriel drifts in and out of sleep for several hours. I’m by his side every time theHratha’lencheck his bandages and hold a cup to his lips. They give him many concoctions to help him heal and regain his strength.

Mother Linnea speaks softly at my elbow. “Lady Isavelle, there are people who wish to speak with you.”

When I look around, several figures have ascended the stairs and seem to be waiting for me. The Temple Crone, Captain Ashton, and a dragonrider I remember called Sundra. I make my way over to them. They must have come for news about their king’s recovery.

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