Page 56 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons
But Antonius was already moving, pulling off his cloak to wrap around Sirrax's shivering form with hands that trembled slightly. "Questions later," he said, though his usual pragmatic tone was edged with the same desperate fear we all felt. "Get him out of here now. And then he's going to tell us what happened to her."
He lifted Sirrax with surprising gentleness for such a large man, cradling him like a child as we began making our way toward one of the paths that led up and out of the valley. Theretreat was in full swing now, with Imperial forces streaming toward the exits under cover of coordinated dragon flights.
We found a sheltered alcove about halfway up the ridge, hidden behind a cluster of boulders that blocked most of the wind and provided some protection from observation. Antonius set Sirrax down carefully, then began examining his injuries with the practiced efficiency of someone who had treated battlefield wounds before.
"Ribs are cracked, maybe broken," he muttered, his hands moving over Sirrax's torso with clinical precision. "Shoulder's definitely out of joint. Nothing that won't heal, but he needs rest and medical attention."
"How did you know?" Marcus asked, turning to look at me with those calculating eyes. "About what he was, I mean.”
I glanced at Sirrax, who was watching me with an expression of cautious trust. "Livia told me," I said finally. "About the dragon shifters, about why my—" I caught myself just in time, "—about why the Empire raids Talfen territory. Every dragon is a shifter. That's why they're captured, why they're enslaved. The Empire isn't just taking beasts of war—it's taking people."
Marcus gave me a look that suggested he had noticed my near slip-up, but he didn't comment on it directly. "Makes sense," he said instead. "Explains a lot of things that never quite added up."
I nodded, leaning in towards Sirrax.
“Can you tell us what happened? Where is she, Sirrax?”
“We fell. Wing broken, could not fly. Wrapped wings around her, broke the fall. She hurt, but not... not too bad. Breathing when we hit ground."
Relief flooded through me so intensely that my knees nearly buckled. "She's alive?"
"Was alive," Sirrax corrected, his strange speech patterns making every word seem carefully considered. "But then...shadow-man came. Took her. Carried her away into darkness before I could stop."
The relief turned instantly to ice-cold terror. "Shadow mage? One of them took her?"
Sirrax nodded weakly. "Big magic. Old magic. Wrapped her in shadows, carried her away like wind carries leaf. I tried to follow, but..." He gestured helplessly at his broken form.
"So she's their prisoner," Antonius said grimly.
The word hung in the air, colder and sharper than the wind whistling over the ridge. A prisoner. Not dead, but taken. Snatched from the battlefield by a being of myth and nightmare. It was a fate I couldn't comprehend, a new circle of hell I hadn't known existed.
"No," Marcus snarled, shoving himself to his feet. His face was a mask of furious denial. "Not a prisoner. They'll kill her. She's Imperial. They'll see her uniform and—" He choked on the words, his hatred for me warring with his terror for her.
"They won't," I said, my voice hollow. “He could have killed her here. Why take her captive if he’s just going to kill her later? No, he wanted her for a reason."
"And what reason could that be, Your Highness?" Marcus spat the title like a curse. "A hostage, maybe? Someone to bargain with the son of the Emperor?"
The accusation struck me with the force of a physical blow. He was right. If the shadow mage knew who I was—and with his power, how could he not?—then Livia was no longer just a soldier. She was a pawn. My pawn. Her capture was my fault. The weight of it threatened to crush me. I had brought her here. I had led this army. I had revealed myself to Cassius. Every choice I had made, every compromise born of desperation, had led to this. Livia, in the hands of a monster, because of me.
"We have to get her back," Antonius said, his voice a low rumble that cut through my self-loathing. He looked fromMarcus's rigid fury to my despair. "Arguing isn't going to help her. We need a plan."
Sirrax struggled to sit up. “I go get her.”
“You won’t make it ten feet alone,” I stated, my mind racing, discarding and forming plans with desperate speed. “You’re injured. I’m coming too. Do you know where he might have taken her?”
He nodded. “North. Mountains. I feel her.”
Marcus frowned. “What do you mean, you feel her?”
Sirrax turned those unnerving golden eyes on him. “Little Warrior is mate. Can sense. Moving north.”
“Then we’re all going after her,” Antonius said, his voice a low rumble of absolute certainty.
“We don’t need him,” Marcus glared at me. “He can stay here with his army of murderers.”
I met his eyes without flinching. “You can hate me all you like, Marcus. But Livia is my woman too, no matter who I am, and I will scour this entire damned country, inch by bloody inch, until I find her, whether you like it or not.”
“Royal mate is right.” Sirrax said. “Need all. Call other mates too.” He closed his eyes.
