Page 50 of Golden Queen (Idrigard #1)

I shook my head again. "That is not about me, Io. That has never been about me."

"It doesn't matter if it is or isn't. They all believe it. And I think it's what's fueling it all—the war, the proposals." He laughed harshly. "I think it might even be why my idiot brother has sought this marriage alliance."

"But why? What do any of them hope to gain? The prophecy promises nothing!" I insisted.

"Prophecy has never been about gaining riches or glory," he said matter-of-factly.

"So what is it about then? What does the rest of it say? I can hardly remember."

He looked like he didn't want to answer, and as pieces of the prophecy started to come back to me, I understood why. In the end, he could see on my face that he did not need to say the last of it.

She hides behind the beast while gold burns beneath her feet. Aelia, Aelia, traitor!

The shadow opens his father's eyes on a breath of frozen fire that burns the world to ash. Adrill, Adrill, destroyer!

Black flame tears the sky in two. Aelia, Aelia, death!

The Golden Queen burns.

Blood opens the gate.

Cold, naked dread snaked up my spine, turning my mouth to ashes. I felt myself beginning to shake.

Could I really be believing any of this? Could I truly be considering the idea that this prophecy spoke of my fate and some cataclysm that would befall the world? And if so, how in the gods' names could I be expected to do one damn thing to change it?

I clasped my trembling hands together in front of me, looking down at the cold, pale flesh of my fingers. They looked so frail and weak.

I felt his warm, nearly scalding flesh against mine as he took my hands in his.

"If you stay here, Sera, I will stay. My riders will stay. We will defend you to the last of us. But in the end, you will have gained nothing from it. You'll still be in their hands."

He released one of my hands and slid his palm along my cheek, beneath my hair, holding me so lightly that I could barely feel it. Chills skated over my cold skin.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "I cannot bear the thought of that. To give my life, and it still not be enough. You cannot ask that of me."

"I would never ask you to die for me, you foolish man," I said, my voice breaking on the words, betraying the emotion even as I tried to smile.

"You would not need to ask," he said. Gone was the coldness I had seen in him since he walked into the room. He was all fire.

But it was gone in an instant, the cold, almost glacial look in his features returned, and he released me.

"Will you evacuate the people then?" he asked, stepping away from me and putting his hands in his pockets. "And will you let me take you to safety in Orin while the armies march south?"

I considered my options before nodding. "If Arkadian will agree to take his forces to Athelen, and as long as Tatana, Set, and my ladies can be safely gotten away from the city, then yes, I will go. I'll begin the evacuation today."

He breathed what sounded like a sigh of relief as he stared down at Windemere's Royal Crest inset into the table. It was the Lithaway Ospherion clutching godsgrass in its curved talons.

"If you'll let me coordinate with your generals, my riders will do what we can to help get your people out."

I nodded. "Thank you, My Lord. That will be very welcome."

He shook his head as a bit of sorrow bled into his stoic features. "Don't do that, Sera. Don't call me that—not when we're alone. Are we not, at least, still friends?"

That was what it took to break me, apparently. Are we not, at least, still friends?

I crumpled in on myself, feeling my chest cave in even as I made no outward sign of it. "Of—of course we are," I said, feeling a constriction tighten in my throat.

I reached out to the table, needing to anchor myself to something as my head began to swim.

"Hey," he said, hands coming out to catch me. I had not realized I was sinking to the floor. "Breathe, Sera.”

Blackness began to crowd the edges of my vision, and I felt him shaking me. "Fates, Sera, fucking breathe!"

I tried. I was trying. I truly was trying.

I felt his hands on my face and sudden warmth bleeding through my skin. Light replaced the darkness at edges of my vision as sweet, blessed relief flooded through me.

Air—grateful, welcome air—rushed into me, and I breathed.

I realized I was seated on the edge of the table, and his arms were holding me. All I could do was slump forward against him, feeling his chest beneath my head.

"Keep breathing, Sera." He ran a hand down the back of my head soothingly. "That's all you need to do right now. Just air in, air out. You're alright. Just breathe."

So I did. I just breathed while I listened to his strong, even heartbeat and felt his chest rising and falling beneath my cheek.

I gradually loosened the hands fisted in his shirt, letting life bleed back into my numb fingers.

"I'm sorry," I told him, feeling soul-deep shame for displaying that kind of weakness in front of him, being such a burden to him when he must already feel overwhelmed himself.

"There is nothing to be sorry about," he said, running his hand down my back. "You've had a lot to deal with in a short amount of time. Anyone would be excused for feeling a little overwhelmed."

He had, thankfully, misunderstood my panic. I didn't give a single shit about Penjan or Windemere, or even my own people at that moment.

All I had been capable of feeling was soul-shattering pain over the loss of him. But I would never admit that to him—or to anyone.

I could never admit that, in that moment, I would have gladly set the godsgrass on fire myself if it meant I could keep him.

We stayed that way for several minutes until I felt him start to pull away. Panic seized me again, and I wrapped my arms around him.

"Sera," he said, carefully, his body tensing. "We should—"

I cut him off as I pushed up and kissed him, sliding my arms up and around his neck to pull him to me. I didn't care about anything else in the world.

Fuck Behr Aldur. I hated him in that moment.

It only took Io a fraction of a heartbeat, holding himself stiffly resistant, before every muscle in his body relaxed at once, and he kissed me back. His hands came up behind me, cradling my head as his lips moved over my mouth.

He was my home, my anchor, he was somehow everything. He kissed me deeply, desperately, and I pressed my body to his, wanting him more than I ever had.

And then his lips slowed, gentled, and he pulled away. His hands held me back as he kissed first my lips and then my closed eyes each in turn, tenderly.

I looked up to find his face set in grim determination.

And then he stepped back out of my embrace. "I'll summon the eldermen," he said, muscle ticking in his jaw.

I nodded, angrily swiping away the tears that had run down my cheeks. I slid down from the table and went around to take my seat.

As Io crossed the chamber, I suddenly knew that it had been a goodbye—on his part at least. It would never happen again. He had too much honor to ever let that happen again after we signed that hateful fucking parchment.

And we did sign it. Io was seated in one of the eldermen's chairs. I watched his long fingers race across the page, signing his name in tall, elegant script.

And when I took the pen in my shaking hands, I realized that the cut on my palm was gone. He had healed it as he held me.

I met his gaze and saw mirrored in his expression, for the briefest of moments, a shadow of what I felt inside; desperation and horrible, world-ending anger.