50. Lorant
50
LORANT
“ I ’ll skip dinner.” Reyla backed into her suite and started to shut the door.
I wedged my foot into the opening before she could finish closing it.
“I think not,” I said. “You promised Merrick you’d dine with his mother, and you will.”
“ Merrick ,” she huffed. “I promised Merrick I’d dine with him.” She stomped out into the hall and started toward the king’s suite. “I’ll tell him I’m not feeling well, that I can’t dine with her after all.”
“Are you scared?” I called out to her backside.
Stiffening, she came to an abrupt halt, though she didn’t turn back to face me. “What in all the fates do you think I’d be scared of?”
“Facing the dragon.”
Pivoting, she rushed back over to me, not stopping until our clothing brushed.
My wildfire truly knew how to unnerve me. It was all I could do to remain in place and not put distance between us. She smelled sweet, faintly of flowers and fresh air, and it sunk into my skin, fusing to my soul.
She gouged my chest with her fingertip, which I supposed was better than one of the twin blades she wore strapped around her waist. Did she realize how badass those blades made her look? “There’s no dragon I’m not willing to challenge.”
Was that true? What about . . .
The thought slipped away, and I focused on the threat within this castle. “What about the queen mother of all dragons?”
Did she also realize how much I ached to remove those sheaths from around her waist and strip off her gown, how I’d give almost anything to carry her to her bedroom and love her body all night?
My fucking cock started to stiffen.
“Even that one,” Reyla grumbled.
“Yet you argue with me about dining in the same room with her. What do you think she’ll do? Mock you?”
“I’m sure she will, but I’ll shrug it off like I did when she told me she’d never like me.”
My growl ripped out. “She said what?”
The air around us chilled, tiny flakes of snow falling from the air.
“Neat trick,” Reyla said, gazing in wonder as the snow drifted around her. “I imagine it comes in handy during the heat of the summer.”
My anger deflated and the room warmed once more. “It’s not a trick. I’ll have you know that it takes considerable skill to do something like that.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it does.”
“Do you truly think—”
“My queen . . .” Surren knew better than to say more than that. However, one word from her, and he’d challenge me. It was not only his job, but he also clearly cared for her and would do anything to keep her from feeling threatened.
I’d have to save my snarls for when we were alone.
“I apologize.” I sent a grand, sweeping bow her way. “King Merrick extends his kind regards. He wishes he could escort you to dinner himself, but he’s unavoidably detained.”
“With his advisors?” she asked.
“I realize I’m a poor substitute for such stimulating company, but I’ll do my best to fill in for the king.”
“You’re much too pushy, Lore.” Her softer tone told me she was relenting.
“You admire that, don’t you?”
She huffed again. “Let’s get this over with.”
I held out my arm, and when she took it, I escorted her down the hall and the stairs and into the dining room with her guards and ladies in attendance. Inside, I held out her seat and waited while she took it before sitting beside her. Her ladies arranged her napkin on her lap and made sure she was settled before taking their own chairs on her left .
Erisandra arrived with her staff before I could offer Reyla wine.
“That’s my son’s place.” The glare Erisandra sent me should’ve skewered me to the wall.
I smirked. “It’s my seat at the moment. My ass has warmed it.”
She grumbled but dropped into her own seat, her ladies fluttering around her, each sending matching glares my way.
“Serve us,” Erisandra barked.
The staff scurried from the room and started bringing out floating trays loaded with a variety of offerings, placing each on the table.
We ate with only the clink of the cutlery echoing around us.
Until Reyla gasped, gaping at her plate, swallowing hard.
“Is there something wrong with your meal?” I asked.
“My meat. It’s . . . crawling.”
It was not, but . . .
Erisandra smirked, watching Reyla with sly satisfaction in her eyes.
Leaning close, I whispered for Reyla’s ears alone. “I believe the dragon sitting across from you is crafting glamour.”
Reyla flattened her back against her chair and growled. She swiped a blade from one of the sheaths on her side and started to rise from her chair.
I laid my hand on hers, urging her to remain seated. “I suggest another way.”
“Killing her would mess up the room,” she whispered.
“I could handle this if you’d—”
“Leave it to me.” As she returned the blade to the sheath, a feral look took over her face. “Can I borrow something from you?”
Clever. “My shadow is yours. Always.”
“I like that about you Lore. You’re not one bit stingy.”
When it came to her, I was, but I couldn’t point that out. As a high lord in this court and the highest on the king’s personal staff, I was more than welcome to join the family on any occasion, but I was pushing it by taking the king’s seat in his own dining room. I’d no doubt hear about this later.
Fierce concentration took over Reyla’s face before a chill breeze swept through the room. Did she realize how powerful she was? Few learned to call power this quickly, let alone send it back out to make anything around them perform at their command. Yet this woman was mastering her skill within days. I could only imagine what she’d be able to do when she’d learned to harness full lightning and nullify.
My shadow left my right side where it had hovered since I sat, cast to the floor by the chandeliers hanging above the table. It slid away from me and rounded the end of the long table, slithering down the other side.
I sat back and drank my wine, watching with a sardonic smile on my face. Erisandra had never outright scorned me, though I was sure she ached to discover how she could get away with it without being chastised.
If only she knew.
But then, no one did.
My shadow crept up the wall behind the queen mother, hovering. It stretched toward her. Loomed over her .
Reyla gouged a bite of meat on her plate and delicately placed it in her mouth, chewing. “I love bugs, don’t you, Lore?”
“Bugs?” Moira gasped from Reyla’s other side. “What are you speaking of, my queen?”
“We’re eating insects, aren’t we?”
Erisandra snickered, though she covered the sound with her hand.
“My queen . . .” Moira’s gaze darted Calista’s way before returning. “It’s meat. The sauce is wonderful with just the right amount of spices.”
“Bugs,” Reyla declared, chewing loudly.
Her hand rose, and her finger swirled.
My shadow dove down toward Erisandra’s half-full wineglass and toppled it toward the queen mother. The liquid hit her plate with a splash, the blood-red wine spattering across the front of Erisandra’s pale blue gown.
“Oh my.” Reyla gaped at the queen mother. “Such an unfortunate mishap. I’m clumsy on occasion as well, but this . . . I can’t say I’ve ever spilled wine on myself. In front of my staff, no less. You look . . . Well, I’m much too kind to state the obvious.”
My shadow hefted the queen mother’s plate, and smacked it against Erisandra’s chest, coating her exposed skin and lovely gown with meat, potatoes, and vegetables in addition to the wine.
“My . . . My . . .” The queen mother’s ladies erupted from their seats, reeling away from the table.
“You.” Erisandra’s snarl hit me square in the chest. “What did you do?”
“I’m sorry?” I drawled. “Were you speaking to me? ”
“You did this!” Her hand flicked toward the plate now sitting in front of her again. Bits of food oozed across the cloth as if alive, diving onto her lap. She rose and threw her napkin onto the table. “I won’t stand for this. I intend to speak to my son, and you will not enjoy the results of our conversation.” With a growl, she and her ladies surged from the room.
While my shadow tumbled back to fuse with me once more, I leaned back in my chair and lifted my glass of wine Reyla’s way in a toast.
“Well done, Wildfire,” I purred. “Very well done.”