Lost Princess (15 page)

Kai gasped. “Quit playing games, Chayce. Why don’t you just kill the wench already, and be done with it?”

Chayce stood, keeping Ryleigh’s hair gripped firmly in his hand, his glare aimed at Kai even as he addressed Ryleigh. “What about Kai?”

Pain arced through her chest and around her back. She struggled to speak. “Kai asked me to be his queen.”

Chayce pinned the warrior with his gaze, his expression hard. “Is that so, Kai?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s nothing but a troublemaker. Kill the lying wench. Then get rid of Jackson, and you can claim the throne without her.”

Chayce’s hold on Ryleigh’s hair loosened an instant before he tossed her aside. He whirled to meet Kai head on, closed in on him, ripped his dagger from its sheath and pointed it toward him. “You’d better be telling the truth, Kai, because if I find out you’re lying, you’re a dead man.”

“Of course, I’m telling the truth. Why would I lie?” Kai kept his gaze steady, never flinching from Chayce’s stare. “I pledged my loyalty to you long before you took over Argonas. That has not changed.”

“Liar. How many others have you pledged your loyalty to?” Ryleigh struggled to her feet, clutching her ribs, and stepped forward, filling her words with as much challenge as she could manage. “You’ve betrayed Cymmera, King Maynard, Jackson, and who knows how many others.”

Chayce seethed.

Gripping the handle of his sword, Kai took a step toward her. “That will be all.”

“What’s the matter, Kai? Are you running out of Maynards to betray? Then what? Who will be next?” If she could goad the warrior into fighting with Chayce, who knew? Maybe the two of them would kill each other and solve all of her problems.

Or maybe one of them would kill her. Maybe it was time to shut up.

Chayce sheathed the dagger. “Enough.” Bolts of light sizzled between his hands. He lifted them in front of him.

Ryleigh clamped her mouth shut tight, caging the words behind clenched teeth.

“Kai, I will see you in my chambers.”

“Bu—”

“Now, Kai.”

The warrior’s expression hardened. If looks could kill, Ryleigh would have dropped on the spot, but he simply strode past her toward Chayce. When he met the other man, he shoved past him and ripped the door open before storming out.

Chayce shot the bolts of light at the door, slamming it shut behind the warrior. “You.” He pointed at Ryleigh. “Have thirty seconds to give me one good reason not to kill you on the spot.”

Ryleigh clutched her injured side, her lips pressed firmly together. Think, think, think. There had to be a way out.

“Twenty-five.” Chayce held her stare.

“Are you really going to let Kai get away with that?” She tilted her head, forced a small smirk to play along her mouth.

“What would you have me do with him, My Queen? Kill him? Would you like his head as a wedding gift?”

Bile surged up the back of her throat, gagging her. She bent over, desperately resisting the urge to vomit. She swallowed, her throat raw, the bile burning its way back down. Forcing the pain aside, she stood and faced him. She let her hands fall to her sides, lifted her chin. “Why would you want me as your queen, when I pledge my allegiance to another?”

“Is that your decision then?” Chayce reached across his body and gripped his sword.

The door swung open. “Sir.” A guard strode into the room. “You must come.”

Chayce yanked the sword out and turned on him, his posture stiff, his face almost purple. “Did I tell you not to interrupt me?”

The guard stopped in his tracks, lifted his hands in surrender, and took a step back. “Forgive me, sir, but it’s quite urgent.”

“It better be.” Chayce spared Ryleigh a glance. “Looks like you’ll live.” He shrugged. “For a little while anyway.”

The guard held the door open for Chayce as he stormed from the chamber, then ran after him like a scolded child following his mother.

Ryleigh swallowed her disgust as the door started to fall closed. How could…Oh…No way. She dove toward the door, slipping her fingers beneath the crack at the bottom before it latched. She froze, lying perfectly still, flat on her stomach, holding the door open a fraction of an inch. This was too easy.

Her shoulder burned, stretched to its limit to reach the door. She squeezed her eyes closed. Could they have been so careless, or was it a trap? It didn’t matter Chayce was coming back to kill her anyway.

The pain in her side finally forced her to move. She crept forward on her belly, inching her way toward the door. Silent, but for the pounding of her heart. When she could reach the door with her other hand, she readjusted her grip, taking a firmer hold on her only hope of escape. She slid into a sitting position, back to the wall beside the door, careful to keep the door almost closed.

Darkness hovered. Tears threatened, but she forced them ruthlessly aside. The time for crying had past. Now was the time for action…if she could only get her body to obey her mind’s commands.

Images of Jackson tormented her. Jackson stalking off, too angry to speak to her, the door falling shut behind him. Jackson weaving a ball of light between his fingers while Mia looked on, her face lit with pure joy. Jackson flying free on Nika’s back, hands thrown in the air. Carefree. Happy. Hurt. The pain in Jackson’s eyes when she’d sided with Noah.

She couldn’t leave things that way with him. She couldn’t leave Mia alone. Determination surged through her, strengthened her. Ignoring the pain in her side, she pressed her eye to the crack between the door and the jamb.

A long, empty corridor stretched out before her. Only two doors were visible from her vantage point, and both stood open. Lanterns hung along the length of the corridor, but only a few were lit, leaving everything bathed in shadow. She shifted to the side.

Now for the hard part. She couldn’t see down the other way without opening the door further and poking her head out. A death sentence. Oh…wait. She’d already been sentenced to death.

Despite her best efforts, a few tears leaked out. So much for not crying. She used her sleeve to wipe them away, turned onto her knees, and cracked the door the slightest bit.

She was supposed to be a queen, surely she could find the nerve to peek out the door. Or, she could simply sit there and cry until Chayce came back and beheaded her. A chill burst through her, and she eased the door open enough to fit her head through. Nothing. A stone wall blocked the way inches from the door.

Okay.

If she left the room and let the door fall shut, she could only go forward. If she propped the door open, even the slightest bit, she risked someone noticing and raising an alarm but left herself the option to retreat. It didn’t matter. She’d never return to her prison, to certain death.

She crept out into the hallway, careful to stay hidden in the shadows and eased the door closed behind her.

The door latched, locking solidly behind her, sealing her fate.

* * * *

“I don’t like leaving Mia with that snake. He’s been sniffing around her since she got back.” Dakota stalked toward the stable at Jackson’s side.

Normally, Jackson would have found humor in his friend’s distress. Right now, it only shortened his temper. “I don’t need a babysitter, Dakota. If you don’t want to come, I’ll go alone.”

“That’s not what I meant, Jackson.” He blushed, shifted his gaze to the side, and rolled his shoulders.

Jackson shook off some of his anger. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m no more comfortable leaving Mia with Chayce than you are, but what can I do? I can’t be everywhere at once.” He lengthened his stride. He had to get to Ryleigh. Besides, who could he trust if not his own brother? “She’ll be okay. Hopefully, we won’t be gone that long.”

They continued in silence until they reached the stables, Jackson consumed by thoughts of Ryleigh. She must hate him. He’d acted like such a jerk. He pressed a hand to his stomach, regret burning a hole in his gut, then pulled the horn from the satchel at his side and summoned the dragons. “I’ll meet you at the pens.”

Dakota nodded and headed toward his own area to prepare.

Without wasting any time, Jackson donned his armor, grabbed his helmet, and jogged toward the pens.

“Your Majesty?”

Great, just what he needed. He stopped, caught his shoulders from slumping, and waited.

Elijah’s feet scuffed the dirt floor as he hurried to catch up. “Sir.”

With a reminder to control his temper, Jackson turned. “If you’ve come to try and change my mind, Elijah, save it.”

“No, no, sir.” Elijah lifted a small, sheathed knife.

A peace offering? At least the seer was talking to him again. It surprised Jackson to realize how much relief that knowledge brought.

“Please. Take it. You must keep it with you at all times.”

He lifted the knife from Elijah’s delicate grip. The handle appeared to be opal. Familiar, somehow. He pulled the knife from its sheath. Light reflected from the short blade, casting a rainbow of color before it dimmed and returned to normal. “What is it?”

Elijah bowed. “It belonged to your mother, sir.”

A pang of grief hit Jackson squarely in the chest.

“She always said it was touched by magic. I don’t know if it’s true, but she swore it warned her of impending danger, would one day save her life or the life of someone she loved dearly. She never left the castle without it.” A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Until…well…I guess maybe she knew she couldn’t be saved that day.”

“How did you get it?” The strained whisper left his throat raw.

“She gave it to me, told me I’d know what to do with it when the time came.” He sniffed. “When I returned to my chamber to meditate after the council meeting, the knife called to me. I knew you’d need it.” He smiled. “I guess she was right. But then again, she usually was.”

Jackson managed a hoarse croak. “Thank you, my friend.”

Elijah nodded. “Of course, My King.” He put a hand on Jackson’s shoulder and bowed his head. “Go in peace, my son.” He embraced Jackson quickly, then pulled his robe tighter around his delicate frame and walked away.

Jackson held the knife clutched tightly to his chest. He lowered his head and sought guidance, wisdom, strength. Was he doing the right thing? He had no idea, but he was doing what felt right in his gut. Maybe Ryleigh was more important to him than Cymmera. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. If that were the case, he’d have no business ascending the throne. Of course, Ryleigh played an important role in—

“You okay?” Dakota clapped him on the back.

“Yeah.” He tried to dismiss the niggle of doubt creeping in, tried to tell himself he was making the right choice. Then gave up. Right or wrong, he wouldn’t abandon Ryleigh. “Let’s go.” He stuffed his mother’s knife into the front pocket of his jeans.

The two jogged toward the pens. After fitting their helmets firmly in place, they jumped onto the dragons and launched into the sky.

Jackson squinted against the brilliance of the sun, just rising over the mountains to the north of the castle. He crouched low against Ophidian’s neck, glancing over his shoulder to be sure Dakota was in his proper position, flanking Jackson on the right. Of course, he was. Dakota’s loyalty was never in question. Then again, neither was Kai’s. Until he’d betrayed them all.

Energy surged through Jackson, barely containable. The sky rippled an instant before the portal opened, revealing the Kingdom of Argonas. The dragons tore through into the murky haze.

The blow came from his left, slamming hard into Ophidian’s side. Jackson held tight while Ophidian tumbled then righted himself.

Dakota. He was gone.

A savage grunted, the dragon he rode pouring a steady stream of flames toward Jackson.

Pain seared through Jackson’s leg as the flames landed.

Ophidian evaded, diving toward the ground, then circling back up and behind the savage.

Scanning the sky for Dakota, Jackson struggled to nock his arrow.

Another savage rammed him from the right, his two-headed dragon too heavy for Ophidian to fight.

The arrow slipped from Jackson’s grasp. He wiped his sweaty hand on his jeans and grabbed another before Ophidian completed his somersault. This one hit its target.

The savaged plummeted to the ground with a shriek of rage.

Dozens of dragons emerged from the mist, surrounding him.

This was not a battle he could win, but he couldn’t retreat without Dakota. Where was he? Not in the air. His sleek black dragon would have stood out amongst the bulky, green dragons of the savages. Its maneuverability would be a dead giveaway. Jackson urged Ophidian toward the ground.

The dragon resisted, his feral nature demanding he fight. He sprayed flames at the savages, felling a few.

More surged forward to replace them.

They had to get out of there. He guided Ophidian lower, jumping from his back an instant before he landed, yanking the sword from his scabbard. Had Dakota retreated? Gone for help? Betrayed him? He squashed the thought. No way would he believe that. He had to find him.

The savages were on him before he took one step. They circled. Snorts and grunts, punctuated by the pounding of their heavy feet as they started their victory dance, filling the air with anticipation. Eagerness. Triumph.

Jackson braced himself. Heat singed the top of his leg. The dragon’s breath must have burned him worse than he’d thought.

The chants grew louder, intensified until they reached a maniacal fervor.

Jackson stood his ground. He’d never back down, even though there was no way to win this fight. Energy flowed through him, begged for release. He tamped down the urge to open a portal, resisted the urgent need to release the barely contained energy in a ball of fire. Waited.

The savages parted, clearing a path through the fog.

The silhouette of a man emerged from behind the crowd. A man dressed all in black. He moved forward, sword drawn, the mark of the Death Dealer adorning his armor.

The chanting increased. Hoots and howls joined in a chorus of expectation.

Kai.

The calls of the savages faded to the background.

Jackson’s vision tunneled.