Page 57 of Golden Queen (Idrigard #1)

Twenty

My first thought was that death was coming for me. I would burn, and blessed relief would wash through me, ending the agony that had become my flesh. But when the silver flames billowed up around the edges of the table, licking across my skin with only a gentle heat, I knew it must be Io.

That hope was dashed as I saw the flames fully in front of me. They were not his warm, golden fire. They did not rush through me like a river of peace calming the aches in shadowy corners of my soul.

The flames were a comfort nonetheless, as they surrounded me where I lay—especially as I heard screams of pain around me, erupting from the soldiers and necromancers who were now flaming pillars flailing around the table.

I watched the white fire ebb and flow around me in rushing streams and clouds. The fire rolled and unfurled across the stone walls and the ceiling above, filling every space with bright, burning light.

I needed to rise, but every ounce of strength had left my body. I only lay there and watched, waiting for what torment, what horror, would come next.

The pressure of something on my stomach pulled me out of my stupor.

A white dragon sat on top of me with her wings outstretched above her and her mouth open wide. A furious stream of fire spewed forth from her mouth where rows of razor-sharp teeth lined the top and bottom of her jaws.

I couldn't understand how so much fire could come from such a small body, but it was there in front of me—a violent column issuing forth from her open, angry little mouth.

I faintly registered the sounds of a battle outside in the corridor. Swords clashed and men cried out.

I turned my head to see a figure silhouetted against the flames. The shape of him was so familiar that my heart did a listless turn in my hollowed-out chest.

He held his sword in front of him, long arms tensed as he stepped into the flames.

I wanted to shout a warning that he would be burned, but the silver fire only curled around him like gentle hands as he stalked across the chamber.

His face was bloodied and sweat poured down his cheeks. Still, he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

The dragon closed her mouth and the flames died away in an instant, throwing the room into muted flickering light from the few things that were still on fire around us.

His eyes scanned me for a heartbeat as he sheathed his blade.

Something like despair crossed his features, followed by raw anger that leapt like black fire in his eyes.

I felt the air thicken as a shadow seemed to cross his features.

The faintest tremor rumbled through the ground beneath me as his magic billowed out around us like a shroud.

The room darkened around us until all I could see was the shape of him in front of me.

"Fucking bastards," he hissed angrily, looking at my arms.

He reached out to smooth the hair back from my forehead, and the world brightened again. When he spoke, his voice was deep and sorrowful. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get to you, Sera."

I tried to smile at him, but I wasn't sure if I managed it. His face was so stricken, his expression like a reflection of the pain running through me.

"You came.” My voice was so hoarse it barely made a sound.

I tried to reach up to touch him, but I was stopped abruptly by the chain. He took my hand and leaned down, pressing his lips into my palm and closing his eyes tightly.

The sound of swords clashing outside the hall made him open them. "We have to go," he said.

He broke the cuffs around my wrists, releasing me from the table, and then shrugged out of his dark jacket. The dragon bounded over the side and disappeared to the floor as I struggled to sit.

He helped me up, avoiding the arms that had done at least a partial job of healing themselves. Only a small amount of blood oozed from the wounds.

It seemed like the healing had stalled though.

Unlike the ones on my abdomen and chest, where the skin seemed to be mostly whole again, my arms were still grotesque and painful, and my feet still throbbed.

Whatever insanity had fueled me in the moments after drinking the necromancer's blood seemed to be entirely gone.

Io wrapped his thick coat around me, cradled me against his chest, and gingerly lifted me. I gasped as the movement sent pain lancing through my arms and my still ruined feet.

"I'm so sorry," he said, laying his lips against my temple. "I'll heal you as soon as it's safe."

"I'm okay," I said, my teeth beginning to chatter as a dreadful cold seeped into me.

He huffed a dark laugh. "You don't always need to be brave, you know. You are decidedly not okay, but you will be."

I laid my head against his chest and tried to relax. I felt like I was twisted up into a knot, like my ruined muscles were still so tightly wound that they all cramped. I could not seem to release the tension of so many hours.

I tried to hear the reassuring beat of his heart, but I found that my body's shaking concealed the sound.

"Is Penjan here?" I asked as the sound of someone dying violently filtered in from the hallway.

"They are," he said. "Those are your soldiers, though, Sera." I could tell he regretted having to tell me they had turned on me, but I already knew. They were the ones who'd put me on that table for the necromancers.

"I'll get you out," he added, reassuringly.

I knew he would, but I had no time to dwell on how as we went through the door. Aben and Britaxia stood with swords in hand in a corridor littered with the bodies of royal guards.

"We need to hurry," Britaxia said sharply. "They have nearly breached the fortress gates."

Penjan would be in the castle soon then, I realized. A bolt of fear went through me at the first realization of what a precarious position we were truly in.

"Your Majesty," Aben greeted me with a smile as we reached his side. I didn't miss the look of shock he tried to hide as he took in my appearance.

"Let's go," Io said, picking his way through the bodies of the fallen guards.

A white blur flew past us, forcing Britaxia to duck out of the way as my dragon sailed down the long tunnel.

We followed in her wake, Aben and Britaxia in the front, swords out, guarding us as we hurried down the corridor.

We reached a long staircase that opened onto the Hall of Kings, the crypt that lay under the cathedral and the castle, stretching for a mile or more in all directions. The marble sepulchers on either side of us with their faintly glowing gas lit flames blurred into each other as we passed.

One of them was the crypt that contained my parents, though I wasn't sure which one since I had no idea what direction we were even going. Most of the tombs looked the same with only a gold plaque, or on some, a marble bust to identify which ruler lay in which tomb.

The mages walked slower than I would have liked, their careful footfalls echoing through the vaulted chamber.

I longed for them to hurry, feeling some foreboding sense that we should make haste away from the tombs.

As if something powerful lurked there, and I thought it might rise up at any moment to catch us unaware. It was a ridiculous thought.

I saw the dragon's white blur far ahead, still flying through the massive domed crypt. She was so far ahead I couldn't even hear her wing beats.

"Where is my uncle?" I asked, quietly. "And how did you find me?"

"Your uncle opened the gates for them," Britaxia said derisively from just ahead. "If not for the guardsmen who fought against him, Penjan would be in the castle already."

I'd had plenty of time to consider Markus' betrayal and develop my plans for how I would make him pay for what he'd done, so Britaxia's words did not surprise me. I will make him suffer for betraying Windemere, I had sworn to myself a hundred thousand times by then.

"Markus is in the inner keep with the doors barred against the small number of the guard who stood against him—the ones who closed the fortress gates after he opened them," Io supplied. "Your minister was the one who told us where to find you."

"Your dragon is the one who came to find us though, to let us know something was wrong," Aben interjected, looking back and smiling that devastating smile of his.

I realized where we were when the mages led us up a set of wide marble steps.

It was the crypt entrance at the back of the cathedral.

The steps turned halfway up. To the left was the inner sanctum of the cathedral, and straight ahead led out through the tall gold painted gates into the city of Albiyn.

As we neared the gates, I smelled burning and heard the sounds of chaos. The city was on fire. Dark-clad soldiers with two handed broadswords and unfamiliar armor were striking people down in the streets.

There were screams as people died and the sound of metal-on-metal clashing. It was mayhem and death in the choking black smoke of burning buildings.

I couldn't understand how so many people had chosen to remain in the city. Everywhere I looked, someone was fleeing ahead of those strange warriors, many of them with tufts of what looked like human hair attached to their armor.

I wanted to demand that the mages do something, panic rising to see so many scenes of horror among my people. But I could already see there were far too many soldiers. They would pour in and overwhelm us in an instant if we opened the gate.

A royal guard stood to the side, his long gold and white cloak stained with red.

He turned as though he had been expecting us and made no move to reach for his sword.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," he said, speaking to Io.

“We could not keep the way clear. We were overwhelmed.

I had to close the gate. My men moved into the castle to try and find another way. "

His eyes darted to me, but he looked away quickly as though uncomfortable to hold my gaze.