Page 93 of The Flame King's Queen

“Perhaps, but the more I inquired about the identity of these strangers, the more nervous he became. Do you trust Master Gaun?”

She answers immediately. “I do. He provided me with the incantations, information, and advice I needed to bring my family and the lost villagers home, and save you from what Emmeric did to your parents. If Master Gaun is concealing the identity of the men who wish to help us, then he must have a good reason. Witchfinders did terrible things under the Brethren. Murder. Torture. They may wish to make amends for their deeds, but fear retribution.”

“I have already pardoned the witchfinders.”

“It may not be your retribution that they fear, but the people’s if their identities are revealed.”

“True. But it could be a trap.”

Isavelle hands the letter back. “Yes, it could be.” She watches me with her head on one side. “But despite your reservations, you still want to go and find out.”

I can’t deny that I do. The strategy is a sound one: go in quietly and deal with Emmeric before he realizes that we’re there. He won’t be expecting us and thus won’t have time to flee. “I will not be able to take Scourge. That bothers me.”

“A unit of wingrunners will be silent and swift and enough to protect us. And Esmeral, of course.”

“Us…” I repeat, my mind a thousand miles away. “Wait, us?”

“Yes, us. I’m coming too.”

“Oh, is that so? Has my queen decided?” I say archly.

“We don’t have a choice. I’m the only witch who understands the lich’s extraplanar magic.”

“You’ve just had a baby.”

“But it was a very easy birth. The women of my village…”

A smile tugs at my lips. “The women of your village were plowing fields and throwing donkeys within hours of giving birth.”

Isavelle laughs. “Not quite, but a woman in a poor little village such as mine doesn’t have the luxury of lying in bed for weeks being waited on by two maids—and, I might add, growing weaker with every passing day from her idleness. That won’t happen to me. I’m a village girl and a dragonrider, and I need to be out there doing things.”

When my mother gave birth to Mirelle I remember that she did stay in bed a long time. I don’t know if that was custom or because she was fragile or weakened. I never paid much attention to things like that. Isavelle certainly looks strong and healthy.

“No one has said Esmeral can’t go flying after having a clutch of eggs,” Isavelle reminds me.

“Esmeral is a dragon. You are you. We shall consult theHratha’lenabout it. They know about births and Omegas. I have no clue.”

When we arrive in the Flame Temple, we seek out theHratha’lenthat we trust the most. Mother Linnea is upstairs working with herbs and oils when we find her, and she wipes her hands on a cloth when she sees us approaching.

“Ma’len. Queen Isavelle. I hope the princess is well?”

“Sylvi is growing fast,” I tell her proudly. “The way she kicks her legs, she’ll be riding dragons by the time she’s four.”

Mother Linnea looks amused by my gushing over my infant daughter. “No doubt she will. Have you come to see me about the princess?”

“Zabriel and I have a question about me, actually,” Isavelle tells her.

Mother Linnea gives me a stern look. “Ma’len, please give your mate a few more weeks. The queen needs time to recover.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, feeling startled. “We haven’t even asked our question yet. Wait, you don’t think that I—”

Isavelle hurries to correct the Temple Mother. “It’s not mating we have come to talk to you about. We are wondering about dragonriding.”

Mother Linnea nods. “Ah, I see. Usually it’s Alphas inquiring about how soon they can go back to knotting their Omegas.”

I feel myself turning red. “I am not so impatient, Mother.”

Mother Linnea gives Isavelle an appraising look. “You were riding all throughout your pregnancy and Sylvi’s was an easy birth. I see no reason why you can’t take to the skies again as long as you take things slowly and it doesn’t cause you any discomfort.”

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