Lovina’s bad feelings often turned out to be prophetic. A shiver crept down Tomaaz’s spine.
§
The craving in Alban’s belly was driving him mad. His mouth flooded with the familiar taste of the fine herb tea that Sofia had made whenever he’d visited her in the girl’s dorm—on the quiet, of course. Males weren’t allowed there at night. He stumbled into the corner of the dungeon, his legs trembling. Yesterday he’d hankered after that tea, but today he had the shivers and shakes and would claw someone’s eyes out for another cup. He leaned over a pail, vomiting in the corner, then huddled under the scratchy blanket on his pallet, trying to get warm.
His mouth watered, driving him mad. He moaned. Just another cup. Gods, he’d kill for one. He shook his head. This was crazy. He’d never been a great tea drinker. Why was he so raving mad over a stupid beverage?
A flickering light shone through the barred door. “Hey, you all right?” It was a guard, holding up a torch.
Alban rolled over and opened his mouth to answer, but dry retched instead.
“Fetch the healer,” hollered the guard. “Prisoner’s got a belly gripe.”
It felt like forever until the quick steps of the healer entered the room.
“Watch him. He’s dangerous,” the guard warned.
“I’m armed,” the healer said. “You can leave us.” She was tall, with dark hair—Marlies, the master healer. She took the torch from the guard’s hand, setting it in a sconce. “And don’t lock the door.” Marlies’ voice had authority. “I can’t get him to the infirmary through a locked door. Go on, be off with you.”
She strode to the pail and examined the contents. “Yes, Alban, it’s me. I didn’t appreciate you attacking my daughter, but as a healer, I must treat you if you’re ill. Now, tell me, how long have you been taking swayweed tea?”
Swayweed? That sharding Sofia had been drugging him. No wonder he’d been so angry lately. How long? “Sofia’s been giving me tea since the Queen’s Rider knifed her.”
The Cage
Lars descended the uneven stone steps down the winding corridor. Torches burned along the walls at intervals, but not regularly enough to light the entire tunnel, so he’d brought his own. He gripped the torch shaft hard, harder than necessary for a council leader about to question a girl.
Sofia had come from a good family, a long line of dragon folk. It was understandable that she wanted Anakisha’s prophecy to be fulfilled. They all did. But what was driving her to this hatred? He greeted the two guards and dragons on duty at the junction as he swept past. When he reached the guardian of the cage, he stopped, holding his hand out.
“Master Lars, I should accompany you,” said the guardian.
Lars huffed. “The key will do. If I can’t question a girl on my own, I’m not fit to be council leader.” He waved his hand impatiently as the guard unfastened the key from his belt and reluctantly handed it over.
“I’ll come and wait by the—”
“Stay here. I’ll be back soon enough.”
“Yes, sir.” Pressing his mouth into a grim line, the guard nodded.
Lars didn’t want an audience. Not for this conversation. He proceeded down the passage and came to a metal grill covering the end of the tunnel. Setting his torch into a sconce, he jangled the key in the lock and opened the door.
Sofia was hunched in a corner with her arms around her knees. Her head shot up as Lars entered. “Ooh, aren’t I lucky to have a visit from the leader of the council?”
Lars’ jaw tightened at the venom in her voice. “Sofia,” he barked sharply, “cut the antagonism.”
The caustic sting in her voice increased along with her volume. “Antagonism? What about my cousin’s chance to be Queen’s Rider?”
So that was it. Lars was glad he hadn’t brought the guard—he didn’t want anyone hearing this. “Sofia, your cousin may be dead. Tharuks took him so long ago. There’s no certainty …”
“There’s no certainty that the Queen’s Rider has imprinted correctly.”
“Master Roberto tested her and said she was the true rider. You were there when he declared it in front of all the folk at Dragons’ Hold.”
“Anyone could have pressured him to say that.” Even you, her scathing gaze said. “Roberto has now conveniently disappeared. I know he’s at Death Valley, sent there so he could be silenced. He’s good at ousting traitors. Maybe he was looking to oust the head of the council next.”
“You vicious snipe,” thundered Lars. “What has gotten into you?”
Sofia sneered, “You’re not perfect, Lars. I know your biggest secret.”
Marlies. It had to be. How could she possibly know? He’d never told anyone how he’d felt about Marlies. Lars had been deeply in love with her, but too shy to say so. Then she’d met Hans. Actually, he’d admitted his feelings to one person, his cousin—Sofia’s mother. Inside, Lars blanched, but he kept his face impassive. “What are you talking about?”
“How do you think Lydia would feel if she knew?”
Lydia didn’t know that he’d still had strong feelings for Marlies, as he’d fallen for her. But Sofia’s mother did. Thank gods, those feelings had vanished when Marlies had fled Dragons’ Hold. “We’re here to discuss you attacking the Queen’s Rider.”
“And your reasons for pretending she’s the rightful rider, even in the face of Anakisha’s prophecy. A prophecy which states one of the former Queen’s Rider’s male heirs will rule at Dragons’ Hold.
“One of our progeny will reign in our stead
Filling our enemies’ foul hearts with dread
Purging all evil will be his desire
Vengeance he’ll wage with arrows of fire.”
Sofia’s harsh voice echoed off the cage’s stone walls.
“Him doesn’t necessarily mean a male, just as master applies to both females and males,” countered Lars.
“Oh? So,
