Page 39 of Water Dragon
The four of them exchanged a startled look at the possible implications that they might, in fact, not want it to happen. If that was the case there was nothing but fumbling in the dark to be done.
“Why wouldn’t they?” Iona asked.
“Perhaps…” Ewan said slowly. “What happens if the moment of transference is initiated, but the magic has nowhere to go?”
They all looked at Mazie. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It would be completely unprecedented, but I would expect the elemental magic would…”
“Wreak havoc?” Iona offered.
Maize’s smile was strained when she said, “Something like that, yes.”
“What is it these people don’t understand?” Malcolm asked. “Why do they want to bring chaos to the kingdoms?”
“To take power,” Ewan said. “Nothing makes the people more compliant than a state of fear. Chaos will provide levels of it we haven’t seen for over a thousand years. Not since the last plague.”
They all grew quiet. Peace had been the parameter within which they lived their lives since the moment they were born. It was difficult to imagine what fear and chaos might look like.
“Your father,” Ewan said. “If they want to unleash the magic by blocking the vessel then…”
Malcolm nodded, solemn. “My father is the target,” he concluded. “They’ll initiate the moment of transference and drain him of the watermagic.”
“They would be mad to try something within the walls of his own castle,” Ewan shook his head. “With all of us here? Every House in the same place? They would be annihilated before they could so much as lift a finger against him.”
“They’ve lifted more than a finger,” Iona remarked. “Binding Malcolm… For a sorcerer not of your caliber, they would need ingredients for the spell work, wouldn’t they?” The queen gave a nod. “Would those ingredients need a marker to activate the spell? Something that would safeguard against any cross contamination in case someone not meant to come in contact with the spell happened across it? Say, if someone else had cut themselves on the spearhead then the spell would not have been triggered because that person did not carry the marker.”
“It’s probable,” the queen confirmed. “Whoever worked the spell is powerful, that much is certain.”
“Mal,” Iona said, turning to face Malcolm. “The waterlily. The one that Lady Shannon brought you. Did you touch it?”
He blanched, didn’t want to admit that he had, but then he said, “She made sure I did.”
“Then can we assume the lady is part of it?” Iona asked.
The discovery brought Iona no pleasure. Instead, it made her feel cold to her bones. Betrayal by someone like Sir Patrick seemed inevitable, but Lady Shannon—for all her superiority—had always seemed to have a genuinely good nature about her. Otherwise, Iona would never have thought of simply leaving the city and leaving Malcolm to her. If Lady Shannon had shown her true nature sooner, Iona would have fought with nail and talon to keep her as far from Malcolm as possible.
“Lady Shannon?” Ewan asked.
There was a furrow between his brows that spoke of longer conversations with the lady than Iona had noticed. Then again, she had been rather distracted over the past few days.
How much time had the lady and prince Ewan spent in each other’s company? Come to think of it, she had barely seen prince Ewan since he arrived at the citadel, which was unusual since he usually spent most of his time with Malcolm.
“I’m certain that she doesn’t have a hand in this,” Ewan added, leading to Iona drawing the conclusion that they must have spent quite a bit of time together.
“Why not?” Iona asked.
“Well, because she’s so lovely and charming,” Ewan replied, the rest of them looking at him with some pity. “Yes, I suppose that makes me sound like a fool,” he muttered.
“I would never have thought her capable,” Malcolm confessed. “But if there’s one thing to be learned from the other instances of those in on this conspiracy revealing themselves it’s that not even one’s closest can be trusted.”
Iona’s grip on his hand hardened, and he gave her a reassuring smile that this assessment did not include her in any way.
The display of affection stirred her desire and suddenly all she wanted was to get him safely back to his bed, lock all the doors around them, close the drapes, and have him tucked away and all to herself.
The fear that kept poking for her attention was getting more and more difficult to keep at bay. If she let it take over, she wouldn’t be able to think clearly about anything, so she drew a breath, steadying herself against Malcolm, finding the needed strength in his presence. His magic might be bound, but he was a skilled fighter and a strong dragon. He could still shift; he could still defend himself. She had to trust in that.
“I need to speak with my father,” Malcolm said.
“And what of the rest of the crowned heads?” Prince Ewan asked.
