Page 18 of Queen of Legends and Lies (Dragons of Tirene #4)

Chapter Sixteen

My heart pumps a nervous rhythm, but I squeeze the reins on it, keeping everything tightly wound inside. The rhythmic clank of armor ricochets off the ornate walls. Guards on watch. I’m surrounded by my personal entourage, whether I like it or not.

We’re on our way to the infirmary.

I exhale, thankful we’re not heading for the dungeons.

If I walked in and found Sterling chained to a wall like some kind of animal, I’d shatter. But as we enter a smaller hallway, I see precautions are still being taken.

Two palace guards stand outside a heavy oak door. Two others are stationed at the end of the hall. I’m relieved they’re treating this seriously.

“Here we are, Your Highness.” The new captain of the guard gives a slight bow, radiating authority.

Though I’ve only met Captain Griffin Fitz briefly in the whirlwind of the last few days, I like him already. Even now, his cocoa brown eyes scan our surroundings, like he’s prepared for anything. A scar through his left eyebrow contrasts with the rich mahogany hue of his skin.

His demeanor reminds me so much of my grandfather’s, it’s uncanny.

They even share a few physical qualities.

Fit. Tall. Strong features. But the similarities stop at their hair.

Fitz’s head is shaved, while my grandfather’s hair seems to have a mind of its own, falling in wild waves around his face.

“Thank you, Captain Fitz.”

He offers me a genuine smile, a welcome change from the former captain’s constant scowl.

As I approach the door, a tawny-haired guard named Donovan dips his chin, and the presence of these two familiar guards lends a small measure of comfort. “The healer said he’s healthy, merely sleeping from the drugs he was given.”

The drugs I wasn’t able to cleanse from his body.

Donovan opens the door, and I step through. The captain follows us down the corridor and pauses outside a door. The two additional guards stationed outside—a young woman with short black hair and a husky man with a patch over one eye—both bow when they see me.

As someone who was all but invisible growing up, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this. “That’s really not necessary.”

When they start to protest, Captain Fitz lifts a hand to silence them. “It’s just a sign of respect. Better get used to it, Your Highness.”

Fitz winks when the guards turn to allow me entrance, and behind me, there’s a soft laugh from Donovan.

“Just be glad…” The thought dies on my lips when I step inside.

Not a speck of dust or debris mars the room’s marble floors or immaculate white walls. And the space is small. Four paces by four paces at most. Spartan too. Other than the bed, there’s no furniture. Nothing that could double as a weapon.

Sterling is bound to the mattress, chains thick enough to hold a wild beast securing his wrists and ankles. His skin, usually a rich, deep bronze, is slashed with angry red scratches and burns. His eyes are coal black, same as the last time I saw him.

My chest tightens.

These wounds weren’t caused by the healers, the guards, or Celeste knocking him out.

I did this. Me. I inflicted this damage on his body. I did my best to kill him in an effort to save the world.

Guilt forms a noose around my neck and squeezes. What more can the gods demand of me?

“You just can’t quit meddling.” Sterling’s face twists in a derisive snarl. “Can’t mind your own fucking business.”

“Never.” The word comes out harsh, but my eyes betray me, tearing up just enough to blur his form. He’s here. Alive. And that’s all that matters.

All four guards fan out around me, eyes locked on the once-crowned prince.

“Please be careful, Your Highness.” Eye Patch puts a hand on his sword. “He isn’t himself.”

“I’m more myself than I’ve ever been.” Sterling pulls back, huddling on his bed.

“Now, I see clearly. You are cursed creatures. Humans. The whole lot of you are flawed. If you’d just submit, your lives would be perfect.

But you won’t. Because you’re too stubborn.

Too stupid. You get this close, knowing I could rip your throat out and drink your blood. ”

“But you won’t.” My voice cracks, and I swipe at the tears starting to fall. “The man I love is still in there. You may not realize it, but I know it’s true.”

Motioning to the guards to stay put, I move closer to him. For a second, I’m afraid Fitz is going to argue, but he simply steps toward me, body in a fighting stance and gaze trained on Sterling. Then I climb onto the bed, straddling Sterling’s waist. We lock eyes.

As my tears fall faster, his vile tirade falters.

But it isn’t because he empathizes with me. Fear flickers in his fathomless eyes, and I realize he’s terrified of being healed. Or rather, the monster he’s become is terrified.

He bucks beneath me, trying to throw me off, but the chains restrain him, leaving us in this distorted embrace.

“Stop.” Hatred laces his voice. “Your tears only show how weak you are.”

I don’t stop. I can’t. The tears come harder now. Not just for show, not just in hopes of healing him. But because the floodgates have finally opened, and all the fear and pain and uncertainty of the last several days gush out.

Digging the same dagger I used on Leesa from my pocket, I inhale a steadying breath and then collect tears on the blade’s edge. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Then I slash his cheek and pray my magic works.

Time ticks by. Nothing happens. Panic is swelling inside me like a hurricane when he finally goes rigid.

The silence that follows is deafening.

I search his face for any sign of the man I love. For a heartbeat, I allow myself to hope that the corruption has receded, that my Sterling is fighting his way back to me. But the blackness in his veins and the darkness clouding his eyes remain as he strains against the unforgiving metal.

I run a thumb along his fisted hand. “Please, return to me.”

Is he too far gone? Is the corruption rooted too deep?

This is only my second time attempting to heal corruption. Leesa was my first, and I feared I’d killed her.

Sterling remains still, a statue of hatred and darkness, eyes unfocused. With a heart heavier than the stones of the palace walls, I climb off the bed.

My tears failed. I failed.

Utter defeat slams into me, and I sag against the wall. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why it didn’t work.”

“Hey, Duchess. I missed you.”

That voice. Rough around the edges but unmistakably his. I freeze before slowly turning back, barely daring to breathe.

Dark sludge oozes from his cut cheek before dissipating into the air.

My heart stutters. Skips.

Warm, gold-flecked eyes greet me.

His lips tilt up in a tired but genuine grin.

That’s his smile. The one only for me.

Blood thunders in my ears as I rush to his bed.

The guards stand at ease, stepping back to give us space.

Flinging myself beside him on the narrow cot, I cradle his face, mindful of the cuts and scrapes.

“Queen, actually, if you want to get technical.” I lower my mouth to his, and he rises up as far as the chains allow.

When our lips meet, I forget to be gentle. The kiss is raw and desperate, full of urgency and desire. I tunnel my fingers through his dark hair and trail my other hand over a bicep.

“Queen, huh? I’m going to bow before you and worship every inch of you.” There’s a feral gleam in his eyes as he speaks low in my ear. “As much as I want to explore this restraint thing someday, I don’t think we need an audience when I fuck you.”

I half laugh, half sob with relief. The man I love is home.

The sterile scent of the infirmary claws at my senses as I lean against the far wall.

Sterling’s perched on the edge of his bed like a caged bird, fighting a silent war against a stillness I know all too well.

“Perfectly healthy.” Healer Luci Yarrow brushes off hands stained by a kaleidoscope of healing potions and herbs.

Considering she’s the one who first figured out what was happening with the corruption, I should trust her words.

But doubt has been my constant companion, and I give in to my worries. “Are you sure he’s not still?—”

“Corrupted? No, Your Highness.” Her blue eyes meet mine, steady and true. “He’s clear. As if it never happened.” She straightens her short-sleeved, navy blue robe, tucking her supplies back into the row of tiny pouches hanging from her thick belt.

My heart skips, but I can’t let it gallop just yet. “How long does he need to recover? I’m worried?—”

“I’d suggest taking it easy for a few days. Rest. Eat. Don’t be afraid to talk about the emotional trauma you endured. No one will think you’re weak.” Her tone dares me to believe in miracles. With a final pat on Sterling’s shoulder, she stands.

I nod, mute, my throat tight as I watch Sterling. He’s waiting for something. Maybe for me to cross the room, maybe for another battle. But what if it’s all a dream? A vision of what might be?

Doubt keeps me rooted in place, even as Luci walks past me to the door.

“Yes, yes. He can have visitors now.”

She’s cut the ribbon on a new beginning.

The door swings wide open with a sense of ceremony. People crowd into the tiny room, with Alannah at the helm. She wraps her arms around her son, motherly and fierce, and a knot of emotion forms in my throat.

As overjoyed as I am for both of them, their reunion reminds me of the ache of my own mother’s absence.

Bastian and Leesa follow, hovering and talking over each other while I stare in shock. But it’s Agnar who causes a fresh wave of tears to emerge.

“Hey there.” Not caring who sees him cry, he swoops in as soon as Alannah’s out of the way, all his soldier’s strength pouring into his hug.

Sterling laughs, clinging to the man who’s more like a brother than a friend.

Agnar steps back with a shaky chuckle, wiping his face and looking anywhere but at us. The room fills with chatter, bright and hopeful, a tapestry woven from threads of sorrow and joy.

Still, a shadow darkens this reunion. My gaze strays to the council members huddled together, their faces drawn tight.