Chapter 15
Vorik did not want to leave Syla, not now. Why did the minions of the gods always show up when they were in the middle of—
“I need my underwear,” Syla whispered, grabbing her spectacles and donning them to peer around.
“I need you,” Vorik said in frustration.
“I know. Later?” She gripped his shoulders and gave him a hopeful smile.
“Are you coming with me?” Vorik doubted she’d changed her mind, unless her adoration for him and utter delight in his lovemaking abilities had swayed her.
If only…
“No,” Syla said. “You should stay with me.”
Vorik sighed. He couldn’t abandon his mission and his people any more than she could. Although, if not for Wise, he might have been tempted to delay his mission for a couple of days. Especially since Captain Lesva would be in the area and a threat to Syla.
Even if it would put them at odds, Vorik hoped Syla was leaving on a quest to find the shielder components. Anything to keep her away from Lesva.
A shout came from outside, someone announcing the appearance of a third dragon.
Wreylith seems dangerous and determined, Agrevlari noted.
Doesn’t she always? Reluctantly, Vorik stepped back, plucked Syla’s underwear off the deck, and handed them to her.
Yes, but I’ve yet to succeed in winning her favor after facing her in battle as an opponent. I suggest you fasten your lower-limb garments and prepare to leave swiftly if this doesn’t melt her heart.
If what doesn’t?
A horrific screeching croon came from the roof of the wheelhouse. Vorik winced.
Syla flung her hands over her ears. “What is your dragon doing?”
“I believe he’s singing to Wreylith, possibly about love and mangroves.”
Syla’s jaw dropped in an incredulous expression as another round of screeching caterwauls came from the roof.
“What is that?” someone yelled, voice pained. “Will that one attack?”
“Will the red one attack?”
Per Agrevlari’s advice, Vorik fastened his trousers, then grabbed his pack and sword scabbard, returning them to his back. Syla slipped her underwear on and straightened her dress a second before Lieutenant Wise flung open the door.
“Sir, I think we should go.” Wise had to shout to be heard over the serenade from above. “Wreylith is coming, and your dragon…” His gaze drifted upward. Visible through the hole, Agrevlari’s scaled torso flexed as he took a deep breath to issue what had to be the next verse.
“Is pissing her off?” Vorik gripped Syla’s hands, wishing he could stay, but he realized that if Wreylith was coming, he might not need to stay. If the red dragon intended to protect Syla, Lesva wouldn’t be as keen to attack.
Leave the vessel of the human princess, you odious fool! Wreylith boomed into their minds.
“Uh, is she talking to you, sir?” Wise asked. “Or Agrevlari?”
“I’m not the one singing to her.” Vorik kissed Syla, then released her. “Be careful, Your Highness.”
He turned to leap through the hole but not before catching her mouth the word, “Singing?” as if she couldn’t believe even a dragon would classify those horrible noises thusly.
“Goodbye, Vorik,” Syla called softly as he pulled himself onto the rooftop and climbed onto Agrevlari’s back. “Thank you for coming.”
Vorik almost called back that he cared for her and would always come, but he was now in view of dozens of men, and, thanks to Agrevlari’s screeches, most of them were looking toward him.
They were also glancing with worry toward the red dragon approaching the vessel from the direction of Harvest Island, but they wouldn’t miss Vorik blurting something cheesy.
And Wise wouldn’t either. He had run out on deck, looking for his dragon, but Tonasketal had taken to the air already.
The gray dragon remained in the area but was eyeing Wreylith’s approach—yes, she did look determined—and staying out of her flightpath.
“Up here, Wise,” Vorik called.
Instead of shouting words of adoration down to Syla, he dug into his pack and pulled out three of the squishy juggling balls he toted around to entertain himself while on missions.
Thinking of their last conversation on the hobby, he smiled and tossed them through the hole to land at her feet. Syla blinked at him but picked them up.
Wise grunted as he pulled himself onto the roof of the wheelhouse.
Not bonded to his dragon, he lacked the magical strength and agility that some riders had, so his climb wasn’t that agile, but he managed and scrambled up behind Vorik.
He even retained the scrolls, the bent parchment stuffed through his belt.
Agrevlari drew in a deep breath, but Vorik placed a hand on his scales and implored him, “Give it a rest, please. She’s not here for you.”
Wreylith was close enough now that they could see her golden eyes were focused on the wheelhouse.
Vorik didn’t know when Syla had called the dragon—when the battle had first started and before he’d arrived?
—but he had no doubt Wreylith had come because of her, not the pining Agrevlari.
Indeed, when Wreylith, red scales gleaming in the morning sun, glanced at the green dragon, her eyes flared with inner light, as if to warn him to get his ass off the princess’s vessel, as she’d called it, before she lit him on fire.
Agrevlari must have interpreted her expression similarly, because his big inhalation turned into a sigh rather than another round of the screeching chorus.
With his tail drooping a little, he sprang into the air.
Vorik lifted a hand to wave to Syla, in case she was watching, as Agrevlari flew off to join Tonasketal.
Seconds after they departed, Wreylith landed on top of the wheelhouse. Yes, she’d come for Syla. No doubt.
Vorik watched to make sure Syla hadn’t inadvertently irked the red dragon, and wouldn’t be plucked up in her jaws, but Wreylith gazed down through the hole. Starting a conversation? This time, whatever telepathic words she shared were for Syla alone.
Oh, Agrevlari, Vorik said to his dragon, speaking silently so that Wise wouldn’t overhear. I’ve got to work on my timing.
You have experienced an interruption in mating again.
Yeah.
At least you were invited to start the mating process.
I’m not sure I was invited so much as accepted when I showed up and started the, uh, process, he said, using Agrevlari’s word.
Coitus.
We didn’t get that far, unfortunately. Something his certain body part was unhappy about and would be for some time.
Still, Vorik couldn’t begrudge the red dragon’s arrival.
With Lesva’s threat fresh in his mind, he was glad Wreylith would be around Syla—even if it would have been better for General Jhiton’s ambitions if a powerful dragon weren’t seemingly allying herself with the last member of the royal family in the kingdom they were trying to take over.
I fear Wreylith would not accept anything from me, should I attempt to start the mating process.
No, I think she’d rip your tail off.
I’ve heard she’s slain potential suitors in the past. Even ones she mated with before the slaying.
That wouldn’t surprise me. If I were you, I’d wait for her to give a clear invitation.
Vorik had no idea how that worked for dragons but envisioned Wreylith in a nest on a high rocky perch, flicking her tail in the dragon version of a come-hither wave.
Or stick to females who haven’t the power to slay you afterward.
Vorik smiled, the next image to enter his mind of sweet Syla gazing at him through her spectacles.
But she was far from helpless, wasn’t she? Vorik thought of that unexplained body with nary a wound visible.
He hadn’t killed the man, and the cousin awkwardly wielding a sword hadn’t run him through.
The bodyguard might have clubbed him in the head with his mace, but, when Vorik had arrived, Fel had been so busy outside the wheelhouse, trying to keep assassins from gaining entrance, that Vorik didn’t know if that was likely.
The memory of Devron explaining how Syla had used magic to cut off his airway and render him unconscious lurked in his mind.
Was it possible that his sweet healer princess was far deadlier than he could have imagined?
Females without great power are not as stimulating, Agrevlari remarked as he and Tonasketal flew east, toward the mainland, to start the mission they should have departed on that morning.
You think so?
I know so.
Vorik looked thoughtfully back over his shoulder, past Wise and toward the whaling ship now floating alone in the ocean, the vessels that had attacked it all having fled. He decided it would be good if he and his lieutenant could reach the shielder components before Syla.
He didn’t worry about her using deadly magic on him, but he wanted to be her lover, not her enemy. It would be bad enough when she realized they were on the same mission. He didn’t want to have to fight her openly to do his duty.
After Syla tucked away the juggling balls that Vorik had left—did he truly think she could master such a sport?
—she stood under the hole in the wheelhouse ceiling, looking up at the now red scales of a dragon’s belly.
Outside, Captain Radmarik and what seemed like every crewman aboard stared, alternately through the doorway at Syla and up at the red dragon.
Wreylith had been watching Vorik and his man—or more likely the two dragons carrying them—depart, but she shifted so that her long neck could lower her substantial head into the wheelhouse.
Syla wondered if Radmarik was furious that the same hole had been made twice in less than a month by the same dragon.
At the moment, his chunk of sugar cane drooped from the corner of his mouth as he observed whatever was about to unfold.