Burn

by Penelope Fletcher

  Turning, his shoulders slammed into the wall, ripping a tapestry depicting the legends of Dragon Kings before him.

  Light-headed, he leaned over. His hands landed on his knees and he gripped them tightly, breathing stunted. He stared unseeing at the stone floor.

  Emotion built behind his eyes, a steady pressure that made his teeth ache.

  “I do not want help,” he said coldly.

  His insides were empty at their core. An unappeasable ache gnawed at his sanity.

  “I want nothing from you – from any of you.” His voice shook as he whispered. “I want her.” Agony ripped through him and he clutched at his chest. “I want my Treasure.” He panted and squeezed his eyes shut. “I need her back.” His head jerked up and he glared at Daniil. His voice lowered to a vehement rush. “You brought her here. You made me believe she could do this.”

  Trembling, Daniil turned his head.

  He closed his eyes and extended his hand, as if to ward off a blow.

  Tears wet his cheeks, and his beaded warrior braids swung as he slowly nodded, because he would not deny his culpability.

  Koen wrenched his gaze away.

  He was unable to withstand seeing pain so closely resembling his own. His anger knew no bounds, knew only blame.

  He pinned Council Mon Isaak to the spot. “You let her enter Aver to get your way.”

  “She was your chosen one. She requested the chance to honour you.” Isaak’s voice was strained, but firm. “A Princess of this land returned home the beloved of our leader.” His hands opened, insistent. “How could we deny her?”

  Koen snarled. “Do not make this seem as if no blame lies on your shoulders.”

  The Council Mon deeply bowed his head. “I stand before you on behalf the brothers that served this land as you do now. Know we mourn with you.” His head lifted then, his light green eyes dark with endless feeling, an understanding that went beyond mere words. “Remember we have felt your pain. Its depth will never lessen, but the intensity fades. You learn to live again. This I know.”

  Koen lunged.

  Nikolai shifted into his path and the two collided.

  Koen did not try to push past, but glared balefully over his sibling’s shoulder. “You have decades of memories – years of loving your Treasure. I barely have a moon tide. You know nothing of what I feel.”

  “Brother,” Nikolai rasped, gripping his neck. “Brother, I beg you stop. This does no good.”

  “And you.” Koen’s hands closed into fists. “You swore to protect her, to be her guardian. It was your duty to keep them off her. How could you fail me?”

  The accusation throbbed between them.

  Koen knew it was not fair, but if life were fair, his Treasure would stand before him. She would be wrapped in his embrace. Safe. Her lips would press his, and her warmth would caress his skin.

  No, life is not fair. Even a King is subject to its cruellest whims.

  Koen stared at his brother and hated him. “How could you fail her?”

  Nikolai’s face folded. He shielded his eyes with his palm. His other rested on his hip as his shoulders shook.

  Finally, he moved back until shadows cloaked his suffering with a measure of privacy.

  “I am worst of all.” Koen rubbed his throat, his chest, his mouth. He could not accept it. The grief was unbearable. “I should never have given in. I should have taken her back to the human dimension myself and left her there.” Moisture dried unheeded upon his cheeks. His eyes turned flinty. “I killed the only female who truly loved me. The female destined to be mine.”

  “Koen....” Daniil rasped brokenly.

  “Quiet.” Sevastyan did not raise his head. He peered into his goblet. “Nothing we say will help.”

  “But it must be said. The Regent is right.” Daniil struggled to modulate his voice and fix his tortured expression. “What we do here is wrong. It is unhealthy. No more. The people need guidance. Their Lords will turn from darkness and give it to them until their King is fit to lead them again.”

  “Get out,” Koen said flatly.

  Marina’s ghost gazed sadly at him.

  Her dark pupils transformed to Dragon slits and wisps of smoke billowed from her parted lips. Her clothes were torn and charred. Her moonglow skin was smudged with black ash.

  Strangely, scales rippled over her exposed flesh and blue blood was smeared across her cuts. Movement haunting, as if she moved under water, she reached to touch him. Her skin set alight in a rainbow of crimson and silver.

  Caught in a terrible wind her hair streamed towards the heavens, ablaze, rising with the heat. Her eyes were caverns of molten lava – empty of life and soul.

  Brimstone poured from her screaming mouth.

  Koen’s fingers dug into his skull.

  I am going mad.

  “All of you. Get out.” The words were the roar of his Dragon as scales erupted across his skin. Flames flicked at the seam of his lips, and his eyes were crazed pools of death.

  The room emptied.

  Flayed souls and bruised pride made for uneasy company, yet the room felt more oppressive as each beleaguered male ghosted from sight.

  Koen’s nostrils flared.

  A sole scent remained to intrude upon his seclusion.

  He wanted to be alone with his Treasure’s ghost.

  Maddened, he turned to face the male his beloved had valued enough to elevate from his disgraced House.

  Jakob prowled forward.

  He held his head high, fully aware as Marina’s Second he had a right not only to partake in vengeance, but to lead the hunt.

  His unique eyes overflowed with sorrow the closer he advanced. “I could claim the right to avenge her.”

  Koen tensed.

  He allowed the lesser male to feel a meagre wisp of the fury he leashed. “Oh?”

  Jakob surprised him then by bowing his head and taking a knee. “I do not ask that you bow your head to grieve. I do not ask that you cease in your punishment.” His head lifted. His eyes frosted into brittle ice. “They deserve more pain than imaginable.”

  “Go away.”

  “Use me.”

  “I do not need them. What pride makes you think I need you?” Koen jerked a hand toward the door. “Leave me. I am done with this place, and its people.”

  Jakob didn’t hesitate to disobey the command. He remained stooped, determined to do what he could for the fallen sister of his heart. “Our enemy is concealed.”

  “My enemy has scattered into the dark corners of this land like roaches. The fire in my soul will burn them out.”

  Jakob locked eyes with his King. “She spoke of you to me. That her love was taken from you will haunt me. There can never be justice. There will never be a balancing on the scales for what they took.”

  Koen stilled.

  His ghostly Treasure touched his cheek and rubbed her thumb across his lips.

  He blinked rapidly, and his fists clenched. “You understand.” He rubbed his constricted throat and stared past the male at the phantom of his love.

  Finding this miniscule thread of compassion soothed rather than sickened him. The sorrow of Daniil, Nikolai and the Regent was suffocating. But the Dragon Lord who knelt before him, his misery was a raw, blackened thing that matched Koen’s own.

  Jakob’s exhalation ended with a shudder. “In lieu of justice there will be vengeance.” They locked gazes. “They hide where I can follow. I will deliver them to you.”

  Head jerking a nod, Koen reached to touch his Treasure’s face. His fingers curled around nothing but chilled air.

  She disappeared.

  Koen Raad turned to the window and searched for solace as the Fire Kingdom burned.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Unrest plagued the city. Women sobbed, children hid, and men pillaged and plundered. Carts and stalls were overturned, garden produce trampled in the mud.

  The twilight sky was bruised dark as unseasonal rain drenched the land, turning the dusty stree
ts into muddy pits that sucked at your feet.

  Exiting the Citadel from a rarely used side door near the main gates, Viktor used his arm to shield his face from the downpour. He looked wildly about. He spotted a familiar guard from the Citadel restoring order at the tip of his katana as Dragon Men strived to keep looters at bay.

  “Captain Andrei! Captain!”

  The grey-haired man turned at the urgent cry of his name. His features tightened in shock. Calling out an order, he gave over command to his Lieutenant. “My Lord, what are you doing here?” As he advanced, his eyes darted about. “Where is your guard?” He grabbed the boy. Rain dripped off the end of his bloodied nose. His kind eyes were wide and anxious. “Where is your Sire? Why are you without protection? The streets are filled with vagabonds who will slit the throat of a lordling to brag they had the opportunity.”

  “My Sire flies with the King. I need to find Lord Jakob of House Lin.”

  “What need have you of that snake-tailed thug?”

  “He is the High Princess’ Second.”

  “Bah.” The Captain spat in the mud. “She anointed him in good faith, and see how he behaves mere hours after she joins her ancestors? Fell right back in with his devious brother Maksim. I saw them earlier, skulking around, scouting out rich merchants to rob.” Andrei shook his head. “Keep far from Jakob, my Lord. Bad blood is bad blood.”

  A rowdy group of drunken men pushed past the ring of outer guards. They cawed obscenities, chanted for blood. Wafts of unwashed bodies and stale wine intermingled with the sharp scent of sulphur, and wet, mineral-laden rock.

  The fight moved inside the Citadel courtyard. The rough-looking citizens used wooden clubs and crude, blunted swords.

  Petrified, but resolved to his mission, Viktor gripped the man’s stained tunic. The Regent’s golden crest was a starburst on grime-smeared fabric. “Captain, please?” Where is he? It is important.”

  Andrei swore virulently. “I cannot order you to return inside, nor can I stand in your way. It is not my place.” His forehead crumpled. “It is Lords like you and your Sire that deserve our protection. You cannot go alone. Not only would your Sire never forgive me, I would never forgive myself should you come to harm.” Loathed to leave his post, he watched the mob be beaten back outside the gates. His Lieutenant bellowed orders and fortified the buckling barrier with wooden beams. “I will take you to him.”

  They made their way through the murky, despoiled streets, keeping to the outer edges of the labyrinth like warren to evade the roving bandits who took advantage of the anarchy, causing destruction and havoc in an uprising typically quelled by the Dragon King.

  Andrei led him to a part of the city the Dragon Lords avoided unless they wanted to engage brutes or whores. The place was deserted. The unsavoury characters already streamed towards the vulnerable Citadel, causing mischief on the journey.

  “Most likely find him in there.” Andrei pointed to a dilapidated stone building. “It is one of the better taverns Dragon Lords frequent when coming here. I will–”

  A female scream from the alleyway opposite, and the sounds of male jeering had the man rushing forward.

  His need to protect and defend was an inherent and powerful thing.

  Andrei spun, torn by indecision.

  He stared at Viktor while listening to the victim’s cries of suffering.

  “G-Go,” Viktor stammered. “I will be fine. I can call on my Dragon to protect me. That female cannot. Go.”

  Andrei nodded firmly then took off running.

  A little overwhelmed, but determined, Viktor pushed into the dank tavern. It reeked. The space was little better than squalor. Rotting food and tart, unspent arousal hung pungent in the air, and stuck at the back of his throat. His stomach roiled. He could barely see the other end of the place. A handful of short candles were lit, and with the low ceiling, the corners were cloaked in sinister shadows.

  He remained on the fringe of the room, shuffling across the potholed wooden planks towards the unclean, stooped figures haunting the place.

  Viktor passed a grunting, panting mass of bodies rutting in the corner.

  He averted his eyes, blushing.

  His Sire would be livid when he discovered the danger his heir dodged instead of being safeguarded in the upper fort levels with the rest of the gentry.

  A length of silver hair caught his eye. He minced closer – drawn by the familiar face. Relief poured through him, his search at an end. He was sure the shuffling footsteps behind him followed his progress around the room. Patiently waiting until he reached a dark corner.

  Chills ripped up and down his scalp.

  Just as Andrei said, he found Marina’s Second in the company of men known to be the lowest thugs for hire.

  Stopping, Viktor mentally paused. Who else is there to turn to? He is oath sworn to advise and protect her. Throwing his shoulders back, he approached the table. He halted. Viktor tried not to look as afraid as he felt in the presence of the ruffians.

  The Dragon Lord’s icy pale eyes rolled up. Narrowed almost imperceptibly then cleared. He impassively nodded his head in greeting, distracted by the hushed conversation happening between two males on the other side of the table.

  Viktor could not guess what the male was thinking or doing. “L-Lord Jakob,” he stuttered. “May I speak with you?”

  The Dragon Lord double blinked. He took in the youngling’s sweaty, sooty appearance. His eyes moved beyond to the doorway then flashed with concern.

  “You are alone,” he murmured.

  Viktor nodded.

  Jakob frowned, standing. “What are you about coming here?” He slid a cautious look at the shady males, who had turned, and now listened. “Run along.”

  “But I found ... I think I found....” Viktor trailed off when a man he knew was Jakob’s brother eyed him evilly as his thuggish companion whispered in his ear. “This is a private matter. Please come with me.” Too scared to see if he followed, Viktor fled, ashamed his fear of these brutish men got the better of him.

  Fresh air bathed his face when he exited the tavern. He sucked some down with deep, revitalizing gulps. He was hauled back, a broad palm clamping over his lower face to smother his shriek.

  Jakob dragged him back into the shadow of the building away from the door. “Here is fine. What are you thinking coming here? Do you have any idea what would have happened to you if...?” His gaze sharpened. “Do you have a message from our King?”

  “What?” Heart still thumping after thinking he was about to die, Viktor’s eyes widened. Jakob’s presence in this place began to make more sense. He was under orders. “No. This is far more important.”

  The Dragon Lord’s eyebrow cocked. “I will be the judge of that.”

  Viktor licked his lips, nervously looked around. “I found her,” he whispered.

  “Who?”

  Trembling with the need to get this secret out, Viktor leaned closer, his voice breaking under stress. “The High Princess. Marina. She is alive.”

  The Dragon Lord became stone. Astonishment warred with distrust until his features smoothed into a blank mask.

  Jakob bit back a coarse oath.

  His heart soared jubilant at news Marina lived. He saw her as his sister, and who knew one could develop such affection for a sibling? His own blood brother was insufferable.

  The notion Marina was alive filled him with hope and joy.

  “Truth?”

  “I swear on my soul.” Viktor’s face turned pleading. He wrung his hands. “You must believe me.”

  Jakob’s slack expression hardened with purpose in an instant. His Queen was alive, and she needed him.

  And she was Queen – by default alone.

  Viktor was not the kind to tell a lie, and he was young enough that his training had not instilled the value of indifference when dealing with other Dragon Lords.

  Jakob read the youngling’s sincerity like a book.

  “Where?” he demanded.

  “
I found her in a lava flow up in the mountains. I was upset. I ran from my guard and ended up close to the quest trail.” He bit his lip when his lisp and stutter got worse, as he was rushing to get it all out. He breathed. He consciously made the effort to slow his speech. “I did not do much. It was the wild dragoness Marina saved during her first quest that led me to her. I found her there trying to get up.” His hands flapped in worried flurries. “She was covered in crusted magma.”

  “Chosen with the ability to withstand submersion in lava is tremendously rare.”

  As rare as those who could survive being frozen then thawed.

  Jakob struggled not to get too excited. If there were ever a Chosen to be so blessed it would be Marina. How she must be suffering. He wondered at the hideousness if her burns. Her skin must have melted and reformed into something truly grotesque.

  But she was alive!

  How long will she be with us?

  Did it matter? She may not have much time left, but for his King to have the chance to say goodbye to his Treasure....

  “You are certain?” Jakob demanded harshly.

  The boy nodded, frantic. “She spoke to me.”

  “We must be quick. She will not survive long with such extensive burns. Where on the mountain did you say? How long since you found her?”

  “I found her after the eruption. So–”

  “What? That was hours ago. What the hells have you been doing all this time? She must be in agonizing pain. Dying. What in the name of the Goddess are you playing at?”

  Viktor’s mouth opened then closed. He blinked in shock then looked utterly wretched. “I am not explaining w-well. She s-survived the lava. S-S-she-e i-i-iis...” His lashes fluttered as his tongue twisted and tied itself into knots. “I-It is-s...” His chest jerked as he tried to control his panic. Stopping, he breathed deeply, closing his eyes. When they opened, he was more focused and his voice was calmer. “It is not that simple. Y-You will think it unbelievable and me m-mad.” Anxious, he waved Jakob closer. “She is one of u-us.”

  Brow furrowing, Jakob studied the youngling. He was flushed and glassy eyed. The last day and night had been horrific. Perhaps he cracked under the pressure and was no longer sound of mind.