Wings of Frost

by J. D. Monroe

  “Get out of my apartment, shak-ersari,” she said, lips pulling into a smile. As he walked out the door, Dyadra exclaimed, “Oh, no. You’re not wearing that in public. You better have a receipt.”

  He left her, headed for his own room to drop off the newly purchased clothes. Judging by the weight, Allana had gotten him enough clothes for a month. After dropping off his things, he headed back toward the palace to deliver some of Allana’s gifts to Marlena. He hadn’t been able to broach the subject of getting her out of the cell yet, but fresh clothes would certainly be a welcome surprise. A delightful flutter of nerves tickled his belly as he imagined her pleasure at the gifts.

  I am compromised, he thought. He didn’t care anymore.

  The guards on duty in the dungeon eyed the shopping bags in his hands warily. “Sir?”

  “I need to see our visitor,” he said without flinching. If people were talking already, he could only imagine the rumors that would fly when they saw him strolling the halls of the dungeon with shopping bags.

  “Yes, sir,” one of the guards said. He led the way to Marlena’s cell at the end. “We’ve been taking good care of her, sir. Like you asked.”

  The guard swiped his key through the panel next to the door. When the door opened, a sweltering wave of heat billowed out. Marlena lay on her side, one arm outstretched like she was scratching at the door. Her body shook violently. The crimson tattoos blazed bright. “What the hell happened?”

  “Sir, I don’t know,” the guard stammered. “I brought her dinner about an hour ago and she was fine.”

  Velati knelt over her and grabbed her wrist. Her pulse was racing, hummingbird-fast. Power crackled off of her like electricity. Her skin was blistering to the touch. The red marks felt like searing metal. “Marlena?”

  No response.

  He pried one eye open. Her eyes were aflame, glowing green so bright it left a spot burning in his vision. Her gaze held the same strange gravity he’d felt when the white dragon had gazed at him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to settle himself.

  Panic overwhelmed him. With despair sinking into his chest, he scooped her into his arms and stood up.

  “Sir, you can’t take her out—”

  “Get the fuck out of my way,” he roared as the guard skittered away from the door. Cradling her close, he bounded for the stairs. He channeled his frosty aura around her, trying to envelop her in cool air without hurting her. Her limbs dangled, limp as a rag doll.

  People gawked as he barreled down the main corridor toward the healer’s ward. Two guards were posted at the doors, but immediately separated at the sight of him. “Call for Rosak,” he ordered as he ran inside.

  Just past the door was a small sitting area, and beyond that, an open, airy room that served as the healer’s ward. Clad in pale blue, two women worked quietly with their patients. Most of the beds were filled with the captives they’d freed from the Chosen over the last week.

  “Help,” he pleaded, his voice echoing in the quiet space.

  One of the Marahsti healers intercepted him and pointed to the closest open bed. “What happened?” She helped him lay Marlena out on the clean white sheets. Her furrowed brow was dotted with the dark blue ink of the Marashti order.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I found her like this.”

  The healer touched her wrist, then yelped in surprise and pulled away. “She’s burning up.”

  “It’s okay,” he coaxed, summoning a cold wind around her. Marlena’s tattoos still glowed, but the angry red was dimming to a fainter orange, like a fire slowly going out.

  The healer’s breath was visible as the temperature plunged around them. She gingerly touched Marlena’s forehead, then placed another hand on her belly. Her eyes glinted silver. “Her power is strange,” she said, her voice strained. “It feels like the ones they brought here.”

  “It’s a long story,” Velati said. “Can you help?”

  “Move,” she ordered. She pushed up her long sleeves and called for the other healer. “I need help, sister.”

  Now that she was closer, Velati recognized the second healer. The tall, voluptuous woman had come through the Stormcrest Gate from Natar. She mimicked her companion’s posture, with one hand on Marlena’s head and the other at her hip. Marlena’s body tensed, arching up toward their touch.

  This was like watching Dyadra and Sohan all over again, torn asunder by the Raspolin. He could fight and rip and tear, but he could do nothing but stand here and hope for someone else to do what he couldn’t.

  Finally, the first healer pulled away with a pained noise. Her legs buckled, but Velati grabbed her arm to hold her upright. “Sorry,” she said. Her muscles trembled. “It’s been a long day, and I can’t do much more right now.”

  The second healer still worked, moving her hands to Marlena’s throat, then to her ribs. Her lips moved silently. Finally, she broke away and gave the other healer an appraising look. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m all right,” she said. “Just tapped out. I worked on several of the patients over the last hour. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” the other healer said. She fixed Velati with a stern stare. “She’s Aesdar, isn’t she?”

  “She is. You know about them?” he asked.

  The woman nodded. “I have been taking care of them for a while. My name is Sumenda. You helped me get here safely.” She bowed politely. “Thank you, kordari.”

  “It was my honor,” he said. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I’m not entirely certain,” Sumenda said. “Their energy feels so different from ours. But I think she was poisoned. Nothing I recognize.” She was gentle as she smoothed Marlena’s hair away from her face, then dabbed her flushed skin with a cloth.

  “Poisoned,” he murmured. Cold rage filled him. Someone would answer for this. “Will she wake up?”

  “She should,” Sumenda said. “I think we neutralized the worst of it, but it will take some time for her body to recover.”

  “Do you have any more healers on duty?” he asked.

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “They’re all resting. The Chosen have been keeping us busy.”

  “Wake someone.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “With all due respect, kordari, they’ve earned their rest,” she said pointedly. “There are people who need just as much care and do not have one of the Arik’tazhan to demand it on their behalf.”

  His cheeks flushed at the chastisement. “So we just wait?”

  “Let her rest,” Sumenda said. “When the divine is complete, sometimes the mundane is the best medicine.”

  Part of him wanted to stay with Marlena, to make up for leaving her alone and unprotected. But he couldn’t do anything for her the Marashti couldn’t. He gently cupped her cheek, letting the cool energy pour out of him again. Then he looked up at Sumenda. “I’ll be back.”

  Velati stormed out of the healer’s ward and intercepted Rosak, who was walking up the central hall. His lack of urgency sparked Velati’s temper. It took all of his willpower not to put his hands on Rosak. “What the fuck happened?”

  The taller man glared down at him. “Maybe you can tell me that. I just got a call demanding my presence here.”

  “Marlena was poisoned,” he said. “You were responsible for her.”

  Rosak’s eyes widened. “Poisoned? Seriously?”

  “No, I’m making it up because this is a great time for pranks,” Velati said. “Yes. I stopped by her cell and found her unconscious. What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Rosak said. “She was fine when I left her before the meeting with the queens. She said she didn’t feel well, but she thought it was from using her power so much. Are you sure she didn’t have a bad reaction to that?”

  “The Marashti said it was poison,” Velati said. “Did she eat or drink anything?”

  “I assume so. We called ahead and had the guard on duty get her a decent dinner from up here,” R
osak said. “She was helpful. I thought it would be nice to have a proper meal.”

  “Mighty generous of you,” Velati said.

  Rosak threw up his hands. “What do you want from me? Everything I do is wrong in your eyes. I’m trying my fucking best to protect our people.”

  “So am I,” he said.

  “Are you? Because you’ve been gone for fifty years,” Rosak said. “And I’ve been here my whole life. I don’t get to fly off on a whim to convince one of them to join us.”

  “I’m—”

  “I’m glad you did. I didn’t want you to be right, but for the time being, she helped us get information we never would have had otherwise,” Rosak said. “But I can’t do what you did. You take a risk and the worst that happens is that you die. I’m responsible for this place. I have to make a thousand decisions every day and I lay in bed at night agonizing over what I missed. Which decision was wrong, where did I leave an opening, what did I miss? I’ve been sick to my stomach thinking one of my people could be working for them. So back the fuck off. I’m trying. I was trying to be kind to her after being so hard on both of you. I thought I was being nice.”

  Velati’s jaw dropped in shock. Rosak was breathing hard, nostrils flaring like he was a bull about to charge. A pang of guilt pricked his conscience. He put up his hands. “You’re right. My temper got the best of me. I shouldn’t have accused you. Will you help me figure this out?”

  The other man’s shoulders eased a little, though his eyes were still narrowed. “I’ll go talk to the guard with you,” he said.

  “Yeah,” Velati said. “Let’s go.”

  The sight of two angry frost dragons coming down the stairs, shoulder-to-shoulder with a cold wind preceding them, was enough to get the guard out of his seat, bowing politely with a look of terror in his eyes. A dog-eared paperback thumped to the table. “Sir, I didn’t know she was messed up, I swear!”

  “Shut up and sit down,” Velati said.

  The chair scraped as the guard abruptly sat down, eyes wide. His voice trembled. “Was she all right?”

  “Not yet,” Rosak said. “Did you take the plate to her?” The guard nodded. “And did you prepare it yourself?”

  “No, sir,” the guard said, shaking his head rapidly. “We usually call the kitchen for meals. I told them how many we needed and asked for one plate off the community table. Usually it’s rice and broth, but they made her a good plate since you said to do something nice.”

  Rosak nodded. “Who brought it down?”

  The guard shook his head. His voice shook with fear. “I don’t know. I got up to patrol and check that all the doors were secure. Top of every hour, like always. When I got back, someone had already delivered the cart with all the meals on it.” There was a long pause, and his face fell again. “Sir, please, you have to believe me. I would never do something like that, even to a prisoner. No matter what she did.”

  “I believe you,” Rosak said. “I want you to call the kitchen and find out who was preparing meals tonight and who brought them down. Call my office when you have names. I expect to hear from you within the next fifteen minutes,” Rosak said. There was a deadly calm in his voice.

  The guard nodded rapidly. “Yes, of course. I’m on it.” They had only gone four steps when the guard’s shaking voice said, “I need to talk to Mia. No, now. My ass is on the line.”

  Velati sidestepped him, heading for her cell. The plate was still sitting on the stone bench. He grabbed it and inhaled deeply. The spices were almost overwhelming, but he caught the hint of something metallic and acrid. He scowled. “There’s something in the food.”

  Rosak took the plate from him and smelled it. His nose wrinkled. “I can’t tell what it is. It’s like they covered it with extra spice.”

  “Yeah,” Velati said. “If she wasn’t looking, she wouldn’t have noticed.”

  “One of the prisoners confirmed that the Chosen have someone inside,” Rosak said.

  “And if they think there’s a chance she could identify them, then they’ll want her gone before she starts questioning people,” Velati said. “That narrows it down, doesn’t it? Who else knows about the interviews she did today?”

  Rosak shook his head. “Not many people,” he said. “But you walked her in here with an audience. Rumors spread fast. It could be anyone who knows she’s here.”

  “T’haran dan keth,” Velati swore.

  Rosak’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll look into this and find out who brought her meal. In the meantime, stay with her and make sure no one makes a second attempt. You have my approval to move her if you think it’s best.”

  Velati hoped they would try again and find him in their way. Then they would see why he had earned the name Cold Death.

  Her mouth tasted like stale coffee and soggy ash. Marlena opened sandpaper-dry eyes to a painfully bright room. Sunlight glared through skylights like monstrous eyes. She winced and tried to cover her face, but her arm was too heavy to lift. As her eyes adjusted, she scanned her surroundings. Soaring stone archways with silver lanterns hanging overhead, a long row of beds occupied by sleeping people. At least it smelled nice, like flowers and incense.

  Frowning, she raised her head a few inches to see her own body draped in a sheet. And to her left, a familiar head of thick brown hair lay against the mattress, one hand resting on her knee with the other folded under his head.

  How…?

  The last thing she remembered was sitting in her cell after eating the rich meal the guard had brought. Then stabbing pain, and fire in her veins.

  She took a deep breath and reached for Velati, touching his head and scratching his scalp lightly. With a delightful sound of satisfaction, he leaned into the touch. Then he sat bolt upright, blue eyes wide. The gentle smile on his face was like stepping into sunlight.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “Are you all right? What happened? I came to find you, and—shit, I’m sorry. How are you feeling? Do you need something?”

  Her throat was desert-dry, but she didn’t want him to leave. “I’m okay,” she said. He took her hand gently, folding his cool aura around her. A shiver prickled over her skin, though it wasn’t entirely from the cold.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Devi,” he said quietly. “She’s awake.”

  “How long was I out?”

  “About a day and a half,” he said.

  “Oh, shit,” she murmured.

  A slender woman in loose blue garments approached from the other side of the bed. “Good afternoon.” Blue marks dotted her brow in a graceful arch. “I’m pleased to see you’re awake.”

  “This is Devi Mara,” Velati said. “She’s a healer.”

  Devi smiled and extended her hands. “May I?” Marlena nodded. The healer touched her face gently, then rested her other hand on her stomach. A warm tingle spread through her body, and there was the curious sensation of fingers pressing into her all over. After a minute of probing, Devi folded her hands. “Your energy is very low. You’ll be all right, but you should rest for a few more days.”

  “Can she rest elsewhere?” Velati asked.

  “I was going to suggest that. No reason you can’t just curl up in bed and sleep it off,” Devi said.

  “Thank you for taking care of me,” Marlena said.

  “That’s my job,” Devi replied. “It was a challenge, and I don’t enjoy losing. Get some rest, and if you need anything, you know where to find me.” She left her under Velati’s watchful gaze, leaning over to check on another patient.

  “Did you stay here the whole time I was out?” she asked.

  “Most of it,” he replied. “I was worried about you.”

  Her heart fluttered at the thought. “Well, I’m okay now.”

  “Do you want to leave?”

  She nodded. He offered his arm, clasping hers gently to pull her upright. The world spun around her, and she gripped his arm tightly for balance. “I think I’m all right,” she lied.

  He gave her an amused smile
. “Really, now?”

  Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she eased down until her feet hit stone. Her legs instantly buckled. Velati grabbed her shoulders to hold her up, then calmly scooped her into his arms. “Please don’t carry me.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s embarrassing,” she said.

  “It’s a two minute walk and three flights of stairs to a proper bed,” he said. “Unless you want to go back downstairs to the dungeon.”

  She sighed. “I guess.”

  Resigning herself to his care, she rested her head against his solid chest and basked in his cool aura. His pulse was a gentle drumbeat against her cheek. As quiet conversations buzzed around them, she peeked to see people watching them pass. Velati was unfazed by the stares, but he walked outside at the first door they passed, taking the long way around the building.

  “Aren’t you getting tired?” she asked.

  “Nope,” he said. “You’re not heavy, and I’m very strong. I’m insulted at the implication.”

  “Are you really?”

  “No,” he said, a faint smile on his face.

  The afternoon sky was overcast, with a harsh gray veil. In the distance, she heard the familiar shouts and grunts of combat training. Velati carried her to a building not far from the palace, with a small courtyard leading to heavy metal doors. He ducked down, shifting her legs so he could put his thumb against a scanner to open the doors.

  After an elevator ride and a short walk down a narrow hall, Velati ducked and dipped her low toward the door handle. “Enter the code for me,” he said. “Four eight three two.”

  She poked the numbers into the keypad, and he shoved the door open with his foot onto a small, but nicely furnished apartment. He carried her to a brown leather couch and gently lowered her, then stood up. “A step up from the cell, right?”