The Dragon and the Queen by Kaitlyn Davis
Captain Rokaro
They arrived just in time to see Rafe stand before the dragon, surrounded by a maelstrom of billowing flames. The beast lowered its head toward the burning deck, its jaws wide. Captain Audezia’d’Rokaro leaned forward, fear gripping her throat. Beside her, Brighty gasped. No one on the ship moved. The crew’s magic winked out. Even the sea seemed to still as they glided soundlessly forward, drawn in by the impossible sight. A breeze swept through, clearing the smoke to reveal Rafe unharmed, with his palms pressed against the dragon's snout. Time slowed as Zia’s vision tunneled on the spot.
It wasn't possible.
It couldn't be.
He wasn't really—
"Do you believe me now?"
She snapped her face to the side, meeting Brighty's haughty gaze.
Do I?
She turned back to Rafe, but the dragon was already gone, its massive body swallowed by the mist. A cheer erupted from the distance, the sound jolting her crew back into action. Their magic cut across the sky, moving faster than the ship. Flames dampened as Pyro drew them into her skin. Steam erupted as Spout splashed water over the burning hull. Brighty didn't move. Neither did Zia, except to tighten her grip on the wheel.
"He's the King Born in Fire," the photo'kine whispered. "He has to be."
Zia closed her eyes, the implications of those few simple words sending a shock wave through her—reminding her of all she'd sacrificed in the name of her king, all she'd given, all she'd bled. Every fiber of her being believed Malek was the man who would save them. If not for that, she never would have done half the things she'd done. And yet, when Brighty had arrived in the middle of the night telling crazy tales of Rafe and the king and prophecy, she'd wondered. And now, she wondered even more…
"Captain—"
"Enough.” The command came out harsher than Zia intended, as though Malek were there with his fist around her heart, forcing the words. "One moment does not a king of prophecy make."
Brighty snorted. "It bloody well convinced me."
"We need time," she chided. "And so does he. Look at him. He doesn't even know what happened."
"Don't mind him," the younger woman commented, as their gazes were drawn to the spot where Rafe stood staring at his hands in open amazement. "Idiotic bewilderment is his natural expression."
"I won't rush this decision, Brighty. As you so kindly reminded me two nights ago, the entire world might depend on it. So we'll wait and watch, and most of all, we'll keep our mouths shut until I say otherwise. Understood?"
The photo'kine sighed but slinked away without another argument, which to be honest, Zia took as a win. The empty spot was soon filled by her first mate, his mere presence easing the tension in her weary bones. Though the others knew him as Patch, he’d always be Markos to her, especially after all they’d been through over the years. He'd been the one to fish her floundering body from the seas on that horrible night still branded into her soul. He'd been the one to teach her the beauty in her magic. He'd been the one to save her when the darker side of power had made itself abundantly clear. He'd been the one to hold her as her body seemingly split in two, delivering new life to the world. He'd been the one to help hide them, the one who consoled her in the lonely hours of the night after her daughter had been ripped away, the one who followed her to the seas in search of solace. But he was not the one who could make this decision, no matter how she wished it were so.
"Dark thoughts haunt your eyes, Zia," he whispered in that calm way of his, the deep rumble of his voice like a soothing tonic. She glanced up, running her gaze over his thick black beard and olive cheeks, the planes of his face even more familiar than those of her own blood. "You need rest. Let me take over for a little while."
Rest.
The word made her spine straighten and her fists clamp around the wheel. Sleep was the last thing she needed when it was the only way for the king to reach her. His spies would come demanding answers, and she didn’t know how to face them. Or worse, Kasiandra would come. Though her daughter would never deign to question it outright, her spirit built of the same steel as her mother's, her eyes would silently ask, Why for Rafe and not for me? Why for a stranger and not your own child? Why now and not then?
Because he's the King Born in Fire.
The explanation would be so easy to give, but until she knew who Rafe was for certain, she couldn't risk it. Kasiandra would go running to the queen, who would come running for Rafe, and if they were wrong… Zia shivered with the possibilities.
"I'm fine," she murmured. "This is my crew and my ship, and I'll go to sleep when I damn well please."
"Aye, aye, Captain."