The Warrior King (Inferno Rising #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,110

they passed through the reflection. Desperation lashed chains around her, squeezing her while at the same time dragging her down. “I will always choose you. Even if you leave me. So I am begging you, don’t leave me.”

If only he would talk to her, she could make him see—

“I love you, Meira.” With a gasp she whirled, seeing him now framed by the gilded mirror she’d walked the king through.

Sam stood, the only dragon remaining in the chamber, his head turned, watching her. Only she couldn’t access his emotions through the mirror.

She stepped toward him, hand raised. “Sam—”

He drew out his wings and dropped off the edge of the platform, like a high-dive platform, then, a second later, shot straight up.

Was that good-bye?

Meira closed her hand into a fist and dropped it to her side. At the same time, she doused her fire. The reflection in the mirror showed a wan woman with flyaway curls and dead eyes. And a king behind her, speculation in his gaze. She didn’t care anymore.

Gorgon said nothing.

Don’t give up. Meira sucked in as her mother’s voice—a memory from childhood and even when she’d been a young woman—sounded clearly in her mind, the image equally as clear.

Meira spun to face Maul, finding the hellhound watching her. He was showing her a real memory. A moment. Telling her to keep going.

Right. Her mate was out there fighting—for his clan and king. “My lord.” She turned to Gorgon. “Your forces are going to need help.”

Speculation disappeared behind the snap of purpose, his shoulders drawing back. More like the Gorgon she’d known before Pytheios got his rotting hands on him. “Your sisters?”

Meira nodded.

“Do it.”

She spun back to the mirror and immediately called up Skylar’s mountain in the image. Luck was with her. Her sister’s routine of training with the men meant she was easily found in the massive chamber not unlike the one Meira had just been in.

In seconds, the King and Queen of the Blue Clan were summoned across the room to stand in front of Meira and Gorgon. Quickly, Gorgon explained the situation to Ladon and Skylar.

“They’re up against twice as many, based on the readings my men are seeing,” Gorgon added. “Possibly more.”

Meira glanced at the king, only to pause as she realized his eyes were full dragon, narrowed slits for pupils, the black consuming the full orb. He must be communicating with his men telepathically.

“Did they send the full armies of both clans?” Ladon demanded.

Gorgon cocked his head as though listening to an unheard conversation. “No. They’ve reached our farther scouts. Apparently, their ranks are bolstered with some of our own.”

Ladon released a snarl. “Traitors.”

For his part, Gorgon remained calm. “Or misguided.”

“What do you need from me?” Ladon asked.

Meira shared a glance with the king at her side. “We need Skylar to send as many of your men as she can. Now.”

Ladon, eyes already blazing with blue flame, nodded. “Done.”

“Come in on the eastern side of the mountain,” Gorgon said. “They won’t be expecting anyone to approach from behind.”

“Understood.”

Meira sought first Ladon’s gaze, then her sister’s. “Thank you.”

Skylar reached out and flattened her palm against the mirror, and Meira met the touch. “Stay safe,” Skylar commanded.

Meira wouldn’t make promises like that. Instead she smiled. “I love you.”

Then she doused the flame.

Gorgon took her by the hand. “I need you to take me back to the landing.”

Meira frowned and shook her head. “You can’t.”

“If my people are fighting against their own, it’s for a reason. They need to see me.”

She knew he was right, knew this was his decision and his alone. Still, no matter what it meant to her and Samael, she wouldn’t see Gorgon dead.

“Take me there. Please.”

She inhaled, long and slow, reaching for the sense of calm he possessed, a peaceful warmth emanating from the king and settling over her skin. “Are you sure?”

In answer, he stepped forward and, hand cupping her elbow, turned them both to face the mirror.

“Maul,” she called. The hellhound lumbered over to stand on Meira’s other side. “Protect the king.”

He flashed her an image of her own face, and she patted his shoulder. “I can take care of myself.”

Maul huffed a sound that might’ve been agreement or a scoff.

Ignoring him, she put a hand on the king and walked him back into the hangar through the guards’ window. Maul popped up beside them in the same instant. The massive dragon-steel door remained open, though the one shutting the hangar off from the rest of the mountain was