Warriors of Wind and Ash (Merciless Dragons #2)

“Do you have children?” I ask impulsively.

“I had two.” The healer’s tone is warm, cheerful. “They didn’t make it, poor things. But His Majesty, King Rahzien—he’s like my son. I’ve been with him a long time, since he was a tiny tot. Got a keen mind, that one. People think he’s just a big bear of a warrior, but he’s clever beyond what most understand.”

“He’s cruel,” I murmur.

“Only when he has to be. Some folk cause pain for the joy of it, but he always has a purpose.” She touches one of my eyelids, and the puffiness gradually subsides. “It’s a conviction we share. No death or pain without a greater purpose, dove.”

“So you think he was justified in having one of his guards beat me until I nearly died?” I ask.

“I don’t question his methods, just as he doesn’t question mine,” she replies. “He must have had a reason.”

“But you’re not like him.” I try to catch her eye, but she’s acting nervous again, avoiding my gaze. “You help people. You’re kind. I think you could help me, if you wanted to. Tell me who the King’s poisoner is. Please, Cathrain.” I reach up and lightly grasp the wrist of the hand she’s using to heal my left eye. “Please.”

Anxiety flushes her round face. She’s struggling, on the verge of yielding to my plea. Her embroidered shawl lies nearby—she must have removed it to avoid it being stained with my blood. She picks it up, wraps it around her shoulders, and ties a knot with fingers that tremble slightly. It’s almost as if she’s putting on a layer of armor. I wonder if the shawl’s bright, embroidered flowers give her courage and cheer amid all the suffering she encounters in Rahzien’s service.

“You don’t agree with everything he’s doing,” I murmur. “I can see it. Sometimes people do the wrong thing, even though we love them… and then we have to take a stand. Apathy and inaction only lead to tragedy and guilt. I’m living proof of that. Don’t stand by and let him hurt me like this, over and over. I can’t take it, Cathrain.”

“Hush, now. Let me heal this poor pretty mouth.” She touches my swollen lips, pity welling in her eyes. Then she leans in and lowers her voice until it’s barely a breath. “I’ll tell you one thing. The King brought some nobles from Vohrain with him.”

“You’re saying the poisoner is one of them?”

“Look for the one who doesn’t fit,” she whispers. “Look for the one with the viper’s eye.”

19

I hate being still this long. For hours I’ve been coiled up in the bedroom, afraid to move my tail or wings an iota lest I smash something.

Meridian said he would come and fetch me shortly before our meeting with the King of Vohrain. I wish we could get out of it. Sitting with Rahzien at a table, talking about diplomatic affairs and alliances, feels both sickeningly familiar and incredibly dangerous, especially since my knowledge of Zairos is thin at best. But negotiating with the King is a vital part of my assumed identity. The meeting can’t be avoided. I can only hope it won’t last long, and that Meridian can run interference for me if I run out of things to say.

Perhaps it’s best that Hinarax won’t be there. Charming though he is, he can be careless, and his presence would double the risk of discovery.

The door to my chamber opens, and Meridian enters, flanked by Odrash and Kehanal. All three of them look displeased.

“Apparently Aeris left,” says Meridian, in a tone sharp with weariness and frustration. “Do you know where she went?”

“She knows of a sorcerer who may be able to neutralize the poison in Serylla’s body,” I reply.

“She shouldn’t have left without speaking to me first. We need her. If things go wrong today—”

“I’ll do my best to protect you,” I finish.

Meridian snorts. “One dragon against dozens of guns? You could cause some damage, but you wouldn’t last long.”

“When we first made this arrangement, you seemed to have more faith in me.”

“That was before I saw how many guns they have. And they’re manufacturing replacement gun barrels and a new kind of ammunition for better accuracy. I have plans in place to counteract that, but those plans are not yet ripe. I need more time.”

“We believe Rahzien is going to turn Elekstan into a base of operations for his next conquest,” says Odrash.

“What nation do you think he’ll attack next?” I ask.

“Tekkesh, to the west.”

Kehanal speaks up. “We have to kill him now, before he begins another campaign.”

“He won’t, not until Elekstan is stabilized,” Meridian says. “Which could be a year or more, if he’s counting on producing an heir with the Princess.”

Odrash slams a palm onto the dresser next to him. “Doesn’t matter. We need to act now. We’ve never gotten this close. We won’t have access like this again. Every passing hour carries more risk of discovery, and then we’ll be killed or imprisoned. The plan is falling apart, can’t you see that? We smuggled two dragons into the palace, and they were supposed to help us take over—but now one is gone, and the other is practically useless.”