Dragon Flight Page 2

  Isabelle blinked. “Yes…” she said slowly.

  “According to ancient Feeorin law there are certain criteria that a queen must possess in order to ascend the throne and take control of this great city,” Amalthea told them both with a tilt of her teacup and a soft gleam in her eye. “And do you know what those are?”

  Isabelle was become distinctly uncomfortable and the way Zorin kept glancing at her made her think that he was feeling the same way.

  “She must be a daughter of Cortisa,” Isabelle told her automatically as she wondered where this could be going.

  “And?” Amalthea continued.

  “The marriage of any possible queen’s parents had to be sanctioned before the parents of the possible queen said their vows,” Isabelle said. “And the current queen has to preside over the daughter’s naming ceremony to take place within two weeks of the girl’s birth.”

  Amalthea smiled. “And one more thing.”

  Zorin froze beside her. “Marriage. Queens have always been married to a King Consort.”

  “Yes. Very good Zorin,” Amalthea said to him. “And you’d make a fine consort.”

  Zorin growled low in his throat as his eyes narrowed on his mother. “You can’t. There’s no way. You wouldn’t.”

  “Zorin—” Isabelle began.

  He held up his hand to silence her. “No, you’ve been through enough. I won’t have this done to you as well.”

  Amalthea frowned at him. “Done to her? I’m offering the girl a kingdom. That’s hardly the death sentence you make it out to be.”

  Zorin angrily jumped to his feet. “You selfish, arrogant old hag!”

  “Enough!” Isabelle shrieked. “I just want it all to end.” She glared at Zorin until he settled himself back into the chaise beside her. He sulked as he watched her, but at least he was quiet. Amalthea looked startled, but slowly smiled across the small mahogany table at her.

  “If…” Isabelle swallowed. “If I am to agree to this, I have some demands.”

  “And what about me?” Zorin grumbled. “Am I just to be pulled along as well?”

  Isabelle met his dark gaze. “You can do whatever you want, Zorin. I trust you, for the most part at least. Better than some man that I don’t know at all and could be horribly cruel to Caden and I. You care for us. So if you’re interested in joining me for another little parade, you’re welcome. But if you’re not, that’s fine, too. I’ll forgive you of course.”

  He nodded dumbly, unable to do much else.

  “I want my own cottage,” Isabelle said as she turned to look at the queen. “Somewhere quiet, out of the way, but not too far. I don’t want any servants. Only peace. It’s been far too long for me since I was last left alone to just live life as I saw fit. Give me peace until it is time for me to take the throne and I will be any kind of queen you want.”

  “Agreed,” Zorin chimed in. “Give her peace and leave me be and I’ll do my duty as King Consort and Lord Batal.”

  “A marriage must be consummated,” Amalthea reminded them.

  Zorin hissed in disbelief.

  “After a small private ceremony, it will be,” Isabelle said for them both. “No pageantry. No massive party.”

  Amalthea nodded. “Agreed. And I do commend you for being so agreeable to this.”

  “I assume that my marriage to Faolan is over and there will be no complications with that?” Isabelle asked.

  “According to Thadius, your marriage was officially over the moment you left the mountains. Any regrets?” Amalthea asked.

  Isabelle shook her head. “I did what I had to in order to make Caden well.”

  “Why would you agree to this?” Zorin asked her. He still looked stunned.

  Seeing him so unbalanced was almost endearing, Isabelle thought. It was nice to see that he wasn’t invincible. Though she didn’t want to chink his armor too much. She smiled briefly at him. “I don’t expect you to fully understand.”

  He nodded. “Good. Because I don’t.”

  “There is nothing else left for me, Zorin. Don’t you see that? I’m in love with a man that loves another, my family has disgraced me and I have nothing to offer a future husband. I’m barely more than a child and yet my life has come to a blinding halt around me,” Isabelle told him. Her voice was soft, matter of fact and completely rational.

  He laughed bitterly. “So you chose me to complete the mess?”

  She laughed along with him, though hers was genuine. “No, I chose you, if you’ll have me, because you know where my heart is. You know what my weaknesses and faults are and I trust you with them.”

  He considered her with a tilt of his bristled chin. “Are you so sure that I won’t betray you and hurt those you love?”

  She returned his stare evenly. “Yes.”

  “Hopefully I won’t disappoint you,” he whispered sadly.

  Isabelle frowned. She wanted to ask. She really did. But she wouldn’t make him face whatever secrets he was hiding today. “You won’t,” she told him as she brought her hand to his shoulder and stroked the taut muscles she found there.

  He rolled his eyes playfully and moved into her touch as her fingers ran along the back of his shoulder. “So what now?”

  Isabelle turned her attention back to the forgotten Amalthea. “You’ll set everything up for the wedding I imagine?”

  She smiled at them both. “Of course. When would you like to have it?”

  Isabelle was about to suggest a day when Zorin quickly spoke up.

  “In a fortnight,” he said, briefly catching her eye to see if she agreed with him. Isabelle merely shrugged, if the date mattered to him, she wouldn’t argue. “Midnight, in the forest clearing right outside of these palace walls. Just Isabelle and I, Caden and of course yourself, mother.”

  Amalthea nodded, though she seemed to have gone even more pale than usual. “And is this agreeable with you, Isabelle?”

  She nodded. “Zorin seems sure of what he wants. I won’t argue with him on the particulars.”

  “And you’ll stay here until the wedding and then we’ll move you into the small manor home the next morning?” Amalthea asked.

  Isabelle nodded. “Have you a place in mind?”

  “Our summer home,” Zorin said. Amalthea nodded to him and gave him a warm, although brief smile. “It’s small with only a few bedrooms, but you’ll be fine there. We’ll send servants out there once a week to help you keep it clean and mend anything or whatever else you may need. But it’s a good place to retreat from everything for as long as you need. And it’s safe. I can be there in less than an hour if you need me for any reason and it’s only a short two hour ride from the palace for when you come to visit.”

  Isabelle nodded, satisfied

  “But I have one request,” Zorin told her after a moment.

  “Oh?” Isabelle asked him.

  “I want you to have a party, here in the palace gardens. My mother will invite every eligible man with any royal blood to attend it. If, after spending time with each of them, you still wish to marry only me, I will do as you wish. But only after you have seen all of your options first,” Zorin told her.

  Isabelle gave him a small smile. “I agree. Only if you are there though.”

  “Why should I be there as well?” Zorin asked as if it would be too much trouble to attend a party that was his own idea. “You already know me.”

  Isabelle rolled her eyes. “First of all, you’re centuries old and I know a tiny amount of your history so no, I don’t actually know you. And secondly I want your protection while I am surrounded by strangers since I know that you are powerful and your reputation will keep those high bred men under control. And furthermore if I choose you I want to be able to announce my choice at the end of the party to dissuade suitors from thinking they still have a chance with me afterward.”

  “And you know each of these men personally so you’d be able to tell whether their intentions are
toward her or the vacant throne beside her,” Amalthea put in.

  Isabelle nodded. “Exactly.”

  Amalthea leaned back thoughtfully. “They’re all good points, Zorin.”

  He nodded grudgingly. “Yes, I suppose they are.”

  “Then you’ll be there?” Isabelle asked him hopefully.

  Zorin gave her a brief but warm smile. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

  She blushed prettily under her gaze and returned his smile. “Thank you.”

  Isabelle took a moment to look out of the large windows at the soft sunlight that was streaming in. “I have to go,” she said, quickly rising to her feet and smoothing down the front of her dress.

  “He’s down the hall, fourth door on your left,” Zorin said as he also got to his feet with all the natural grace she had come to expect from him in such a short time.

  Startled, Isabelle blinked at him. “Who?” she asked.

  Zorin smiled indulgently at her. “Your brother.”

  Isabelle blushed and fiddled with one of her curls. She knew Zorin wouldn’t chastise her for spending so much time with him as Andrew had but she still felt silly getting caught rushing off to be beside him. Perhaps, in time, she would be able to find some friends in Feeorin as well as a husband. It had been years since she’d had that kind of constant companionship.

  “How’d you know?” she asked him.

  “Where else would you go in such a hurry?” he took her arm and began to lead her from the room.

  “I’ll see to the details!” Amalthea called after them, seemingly forgotten in her lavish chair. Zorin waved to her without looking over his shoulder.

  “It appears that you know me better than I thought,” Isabelle told him as he led her down the hall.

  “Or I just remember what it was like to care about someone beyond myself.” He pulled her to a stop in front of a large ornate door.

  Isabelle heard nothing from the room beyond, but rose her hand to knock anyway.

  “Queens, even future ones, do not knock,” Zorin said as he pushed open the door revealing the small sitting room beyond.

  In a brightly colored floral chair, Caden sat hunched over a large tome in his lap.

  “Caden?” she called as she approached him.

  He looked up, his eyes bleary from the strain of studying. “Izzy? And Zorin?” He stretched and yawned loudly as Zorin took the book from him.

  “Ancient history huh?” Zorin said as he glanced at the embossed cover. He frowned as he skimmed the page Caden had been reading. “Idiots. I’m not mentioned at all.”

  “It was hundreds of years ago,” Caden replied as if the man had gone mad.

  Zorin snapped the book shut with a sudden finality and a disgusted shake of his wrist as he dropped it haphazardly onto a nearby table. The hard thud it made caused Isabelle to cringe. “That doesn’t make whoever wrote it any less of an idiot. I was there. I should know what happened.”

  “You were?” Suddenly Caden was sitting up much straighter as he eyed the man with renewed interest.

  Zorin seemed to brighten under the boy’s curiosity. “Yes. I was. I—”

  “A story for another time perhaps? I’d like to speak to Caden in private,” Isabelle cut in. They both had mirrored looks of disappointment. “Oh grow up,” Isabelle told Zorin as she brushed past him.

  She could tell by the smile Caden was trying to hide that Zorin was most likely making faces at her behind her back which sent a pleasant warmth of happiness through her at their ability to play with each other in a way she never had with anyone else before.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Isabelle asked him, making sure to keep her voice light.

  Zorin came to stand next to her and shrugged. “Sure I do. I’m the Lord Batal and the Feeorin prince and the Dark Prince and the ruthless scourge and whatever else the people of this world decide to call me.”

  “Why isn’t bothersome old man on that list?” she asked him. She tried not to crack a smile, but as he leaned toward her, pressing his nose to hers, she couldn’t help the smile that came over her.

  “Saucy wench,” he teased back.

  “Meddlesome fool,” she replied, her breath a warm pant on his lips.

  She saw the mirth in his eyes and knew he was smiling, too, even if she couldn’t see it.

  “You—”

  Caden’s snort quickly cut her off. “Are you two going to kiss now?” he joked.

  Isabelle’s face flamed. She had been right there. She had wanted to. And yet she had no idea how close she had really been to capturing Zorin’s mouth with hers. For his part he seemed wholly unaffected by their almost kiss as he gave her a sheepish shrug and turned away from her.

  “You have languages now, don’t you?” Zorin asked as he met Caden’s teasing gaze.

  The boy quickly nodded and pulled another large book from a nearby shelf. On his way back to the chair, he grabbed a roll of fresh parchment and a pot of ink.

  Isabelle watched her brother closely, looking for signs of his illness returning, but he looked strong with a healthy glow. Though he was still much smaller than other boys his age and he did need to eat more.

  “Stay with him, Isabelle, attend the lesson with him,” Zorin told her as he walked toward the door. “All lessons take place in this room and his tutor should be with you shortly.”

  Isabelle balked. “I don’t need language lessons. I’ve had tutors since I was a little girl.”

  Zorin gave her a wide eyed grin. “Das nu talin crindos tin,” he told her, his voice beautifully deep as his tongue formed each of the words as if caressing them.

  Isabelle didn’t completely mind the shiver that his voice sent down her back. She shook of the feeling and frowned at the unfamiliar words. “That’s—”

  “Angelus,” Zorin told her with a nod. “All of our most sacred texts are written in this most ancient of our languages. You’ll need to learn it as queen.”

  “What’s that mean?” she asked, her tone softening as she saw his point.

  Zorin grinned at her. “That you’re a silly little girl if you think that you know everything.”

  Isabelle narrowed her gaze at him. “I am not silly and I’m certainly not a little girl.”

  His grin instantly widened. “Is that so? Somehow I think you lie.”

  Her mouth hung open and her cheeks went red. “What?” she sputtered.

  “See you later,” Zorin said, waving goodbye to her as he left the room.

  Isabelle flopped angrily into the nearest chair.

  “He likes you,” Caden said as he fought back his laughter.

  Isabelle shot him a dark look which only made him laugh harder until he was clutching his side. She shared a small smile with him and leaned back in the chair, letting its lavish comfort fold around her.

  “You like him, too,” Caden said to no one in particular as he inked his quill and began jotting down notes onto the parchment.

  Isabelle released a weary sigh. “You’re too young for this conversation,” she told him.

  Her brother chuckled at her. “Probably. Though I’ve been hearing that quite a bit lately. So what’s wrong? I know lots of the details about what happened with Faolan so why can’t you love Zorin?”

  “Who told you about Faolan?” she asked.

  Caden shrugged. “I’ve been picking up tidbits for months. He chose someone else, right?”

  Isabelle scrubbed her hands down her face. “Something like that,” she grumbled.

  “So if you’re ready for someone new, why not Zorin?”

  Isabelle glared at her brother’s matter-of-fact bossy attitude. She hadn’t seen him for months and he had grown so much in that time it was as if she were speaking to a completely different little boy. And the person sitting next to her was not quite so little anymore and he seemed to understand so much more than she gave him credit for. It was unnerving to say the least.

  “That woul
dn’t bother you at all?” she asked him.

  Caden shrugged. “You’ll be queen, right?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “So you need a king. It’s a stupid rule. But Zorin wouldn’t be bad. He’s not mean at least.”

  She laughed quietly. “I need a little more than just not mean, little brother.”

  He grinned evilly at her. “Like sex?”

  Isabelle shot up, sputtering at him, her cheeks bright red. “You…”

  Caden’s grin turned sweet, but didn’t slip from his lips. “I hear things.”

  Isabelle grumbled as she sat back down. “You sneak is what you do. And stop talking like that. You’re far too young.” She sighed. “And you’re right. To be queen I do have to get married. But Zorin isn’t the only available man in the world. Amalthea’s having a party in a few days to give me a chance to meet the rest.”

  “I still think Zorin’s the best,” Caden told her quickly.

  “Then you can marry him,” Isabelle said. Caden rolled his eyes, but said no more as his language tutor, a tall man as thin as a rail with a pencil thin mustache and the fluid grace of a crane walked into the room. He eyed Isabelle curiously, but said very little to her as they got started.

  Half an hour later Isabelle was bored and growing restless. She saw the lines of strain around her brother’s face and it only caused her ire at the man to increase as he continued to push Caden although he was obviously struggling. It was during one of the times that she was glaring at him that the man turned to her and caught her. Unashamed she merely stared him down.

  “Do you think you know enough not to participate?” the man challenged her.

  “No, I just don’t respond well to tyrants,” she growled at him.

  “Little girl—”

  “Princess Isabelle Falcone of Nuer and soon to be Queen Isabelle of Feeorin,” she corrected him, delighting in the look of horror that drained his face of color. “You’re the best or else no one would have let you within a hundred feet of my brother. But you’re also incredibly strict and harsh on him.”

  “Well if he’s too stupid to keep up then he hardly needs to be here,” the man said haughtily.

  She growled at him as she stood up and pushed up against his chest, invading his space and making him visibly uncomfortable.