Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

He’d never been more proud of her and more worried at the same time.

What Lore had done back there... To her own people? He’d seen nothing like it. And though he agreed with what she’d done—he likely would have left them there to rot as well—it made him afraid to know what would come next.

Her logic was sound. They had never done anything for her. And he’d tried to soothe that ache by reminding her how many people she now who called her family. All of that was true, and it should ease the pain a little.

But she could do that to other elves. He knew Lore understood the implications of leaving them there. Margaret might not even go into the dungeons. The littered mess of dead bodies in the courtyard and the charred corpses on the ramparts were enough for anyone to guess who had been there.

Lore may very well have condemned those elves to death. And a cruel one at that. They would wither in the darkness, slowly wasting away until they realized no one was coming for them. By then, it would be too late.

He didn’t know what was next. They’d gotten Zephyr safe and sound, but there was still a kingdom to save. Part of him, likely the same part that Lore was battling, wanted to continue onward. They could pick Beauty up along the way, and then they would disappear into the sunset.

If Beauty wanted them to bring her father, the more the merrier. Abraxas had carried two dragonlings all the way to the dragon isles. Four humans were nothing at this point.

And no one would know. No one could find his homeland, even if they tried. And if Margaret wanted to make that journey, or had the courage to do so, then she would be greeted by a wall of dragons. Even she wasn’t so foolish.

But that would, unfortunately, leave the kingdom at Margaret’s beck and call. That would still leave the problem right here when they had fought so hard to fix what was broken.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Lore said, her voice whispering over his shoulder. “We cannot.”

“I know,” he growled back. “I know we cannot take them to safety, but that does not make it easier to see him like this. To know that we might have, under better circumstances, saved him.”

It was unlikely that they would have saved him, though. Even Abraxas knew that. If they were here, Margaret would have hidden him better. She would have maybe killed him and found some sorcerer who would make a lookalike for Zephyr to still be a walking, talking puppet for the kingdom to see.

There were still humans to save. People who were not the way they should be. And it broke his heart to know that in making an attempt to save them all, they would have to risk their friends again.

Banking hard, he soared over the waters and dipped his wings in the salt spray. It turned to mist at his touch and sprayed back upon his riders. Though Zephyr was likely still freezing cold, Abraxas could feel the boy’s heat pressing against his back. Zephyr’s wounds had already turned toward a fever, and that meant they were running out of time.

“I don’t want to go back to the dwarves for long,” Lore said, pausing in the middle of the thought to whisper more healing spells against Zephyr’s hair. “They have protected us for too long. The risk for them is too great.”

He had thought about the same thing. Abraxas sat with the thought until they reached the familiar clearing. He landed quietly and softly, so as not to disturb the two people on his back. And as Lore clambered off, he knew where they had to go next. Although it was a greater risk than he wanted to take.

He turned back into his mortal form and then spun to gather Zephyr in his own arms. Meeting Lore’s gaze, he said the words that he knew she was thinking but didn’t want to consider. “The Ashen Deep.”

“They could very well have sided with Margaret. They have no love for us.” She shifted a strand of hair away from Zephyr’s slick forehead. “The chances of them being willing to help are very low. Especially with a wounded mortal.”

“A wounded prince,” Abraxas corrected. “I have a hard time believing the Matriarch would fall for any of Margaret’s lies. Draven came with you, didn’t he? That has to count for something.”

“I don’t think his mother was aware that he was going to travel across the kingdom and come with me,” Lore replied, her voice wry and amused. “I imagine the woman will have a lot to say when she sees us all, and a few choice words about stealing her son. But we will discuss this again soon. We need to get him inside.”

The unspoken fear was still there. That Margaret perhaps knew where they had fled. That already there were armies marching through the forest just out of their sight, and that they may have brought death to this clearing once again.

He nodded. “She knows the dwarves exist. Didn’t Algor say they were working on some kind of treaty before the dwarves denied her?”

“So she has no love for these people and likely no respect left either.” Lore’s lips pressed into a thin, disgusted line. “If we do not leave, she will know we are here. I fear she will still retaliate against them, even if we have moved on. The dwarves are not prepared for what she will bring with her.”

“Actually,” the voice of the dwarven king interrupted them. “We are well prepared for that. But I am touched that the Fallen Star herself fears for our wellbeing. Perhaps we have done something right after all.”

They both turned toward the voice, and Abraxas was relieved to see the king was alone. At least the man knew enough to not have a large presence waiting for them.

Algor ambled over, his hands clasped behind his back, and peered up at Zephyr. “So, this is the boy?”

“He’s the last remaining royal of his bloodline, yes.”

“Interesting.” Algor’s eyebrows moved high on his forehead and his short beard twitched. “At how that girl was going on about him, I thought he’d be more handsome.”

Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh, he told himself repeatedly until he could school his expression into one of indifference. “They are very close.”

“I understand that, but I’ll never understand a woman who puts a man on a pedestal and calls him perfection.” Algor shrugged. “Ah well, nothing to be done about the lusts of young women, I suppose. I’m certain there were plenty who did the same to me in my younger days. I’ve prepared a room for him, and healing.”

Lore stepped in, her footsteps quiet as she placed her hand on Algor’s shoulder. “I can’t ask you for more time in this place. We have already brought enough danger to your doorstep. All I ask is for one evening to piece him together enough to safely travel.”

“Nonsense. The dwarves have lived here for ages. I will not have you running to the elves at the first sign of trouble.” But even Abraxas could see the shadows in the dwarf’s eyes.

He was worried about the same thing. Algor might be flippant about his emotions or even the dangers that they were all facing. But he knew the dangers well, perhaps even better than Lore or Abraxas.

“We leave,” Abraxas said. His voice was guttural and offering no argument. “We will not bring about destruction to this esteemed home. The boy will come with us, and we are not running, dwarf. I will have you know that without question. We are going to another safe harbor until we can create a plan that will bring about the end of these times. You will be part of that plan.”

Lore met his gaze, and he saw the moment she understood what he was doing. They had to play to this man’s honor. They needed the dwarf to understand that even though they were leaving, that did not mean they thought the dwarves were unworthy.

With a slight, grateful quirk of her lips, Lore turned her attention back to Algor. “There is a war coming, dwarf. A war that will end all wars. I would have the dwarves fight at our side, if you were so willing.”

Algor straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “When the Fallen Star calls for us, the dwarves will be ready, my lady.”

“And we will all be lucky for it.” Lore squeezed his shoulder and then turned her attention to the young man he held against his chest. “Shall we? I want to get started on whatever is happening inside him. There is bleeding I could not pinpoint.”

And that was that. He followed her into the depths of the dwarven kingdom and rushed through the tunnels. They needed to get into the room that Algor had provided, and quickly. Though he could still feel a steady breath in the boy’s chest, it rattled with fluid. Dangerous fluid. Fluid that could sneak up on them and make all of this infinitely more difficult if they didn’t hurry.

Taking a deep breath, Abraxas filled his lungs with the scents that escaped from Zephyr’s slightly open lips. Pus wasn’t all that helpful. Blood, also not surprising. But there was an acidic scent that came with it that Abraxas thought he was familiar with.

It was a poison that the King had used before. Zander enjoyed playing with things he shouldn’t, and sometimes that was giving his servants poison just to see what it would do.

Abraxas couldn’t remember the name of it, though. There had been so many poisons and so many opportunities for him to smell all the scents of them that erupted from the servants’ mouths.

“Lore,” he said as they reached the room. “It’s poison.”

“Is it?” She gestured for him to set Zephyr on the cot in the center of the room, then folded herself around his head, making sure that her legs were on either side of him.

Abraxas saw the image in front of him and it was overlaid with another in his memory. A moment when Tanis had done the same thing to Lore, keeping Lore alive when she was lost in her own mind. The power inside her had swelled so much that he hadn’t been able to... to...

“Abraxas?” Her voice sliced through the terrible memory. “Are you still here with me?”

He pulled himself from that terrible memory, from all those moments that had nearly taken her from him, and forced himself to see reality. Right here. Right in front of him. There were people who needed his help. People he loved.

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “I’m here.”

“What makes you think they poisoned him?”

He touched his nose. “I can smell it on his breath. There’s something coming out of his lungs. I can’t place what it is, though. Zander used to use it on the servants.”

“What did it do to them?”

He searched his mind, trying to remember every detail so that he could help. “It made them sleep for a while. A long while. And when they woke, they were quite scattered. As though the world didn’t feel very real to them anymore.”

Lore nodded. “It’s a start. If you can remember the name, then maybe I can send Algor to get us help. Surely, there are some healers here that are familiar with poison. In the meantime, I’ll work on getting him to be awake. Lungs are a good start.”

He’d done all he could. Every fiber of his body itched to do more, though. Abraxas was starkly reminded of the feeling he’d had when Lore was laid out before him, sick and with no way for him to help her. He had wanted to piece her back together and all he’d managed was to lie at her side and hope that his warmth would make her a little more comfortable.

He hated not being able to do anything. A crimson dragon was meant to tear and rip and protect. Not to stand and wait, helpless, while those he was supposed to protect remained injured and harmed.

A low growl burned in his throat, but then he turned toward the door. And there, standing in the opening with her hands over her mouth, was a person he could protect.

“Beauty,” he breathed, reaching for her without another word.

She launched into his arms with a soft sob, burying her face in his chest as though she couldn’t stand to look at Zephyr like that. “What did they do to him?”

Tears burned in his eyes and the bridge of his nose ached. He stared up at the ceiling as he said, “They did everything they could to break him. But he is strong, Beauty. He’s still here.”

“I didn’t think...” Her voice broke. “I didn’t think she was so cruel. Even after everything that I’ve seen, I didn’t think she could do that to him.”

None of them had thought it possible. But he supposed any manner of cruelty could be explained away when saving a kingdom was the end goal. Wasn’t that what Lore had just done to the elves in that cell?

As he looked at his elf, working so diligently to save their friend, he wondered just how different she was from Margaret. If their story was told from another perspective, were they the villains?

He already knew the answer was yes. To so many elves in this kingdom, they were the monsters who said the humans had to stay. That magical creatures had to stare their tormentors in the face while smiling and accepting them into their homes and businesses. The kingdom the magical creatures had hoped to build would never become true if the world turned the way Lore was fighting to turn it.

But she was right. He thoroughly and wholeheartedly believed she was right. Two different kinds of people could not continue to rip and tear at each other without ever stopping. The humans would find a way to rebel, just as the creatures had.

He tightened his arms around Beauty and reminded himself that there was good within their ranks. Good people with hearts of gold and souls that shimmered like coins. Just like her.

A soft inhalation from the bed made him stiffen one more time. There Zephyr was, eyes blinking open and staring around the room in disbelief.

“Am I still in prison?” he asked, his voice hoarse as if he’d spent hours screaming.

Lore leaned over him with a bright grin stretched over her face. “No. You’re with me.”

Beauty struggled out of his arms and raced for the bed. She gathered Zephyr’s hands in hers and waited for him to look at her. When his gaze met hers, Abraxas could almost feel the love between them. He could almost see it, bright and powerful and achingly perfect.

“There you are,” Beauty whispered as she gently kissed his lips. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”