Chapter 41 #2
“Sire,” he greeted, his voice rougher than usual. Then, to her, he gave another low bow. “My Lady, my deepest apologies.” Guilt shadowed his tight features. “Had I remained at your side, none of this would have happened. The sire may bestow whatever punishments—”
“Oh, no, no punishment,” Ash quickly reassured him. “And don’t kill yourself with blame, Attor. I’m fine, honestly. Besides, I would have provoked that she-dragon, anyway. She set off all my alarm bells, ones I couldn’t ignore. But justice was done. So, we are all happier now, right?”
Race pressed his lips together, clearly fighting a smile.
“You are far too kind, my lady,” Attor said gravely. “I am eternally grateful you are safe now. You will always have my sword.”
Heat crept up her cheeks. “Thank you.”
With another brief bow, he turned to Race.
“The people are gathering in the square, Sire. I know tomorrow would have been better, but they’ve seen the dragons circling above, burning buildings and killing soldiers.
Word is spreading that Malcarion has fallen, and they fear another coup is underway since the royal line is no more. You must speak to them.”
Race pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply. “A day, Attor, is all I ask. Ash barely survived—”
“Race?” Ash touched his thigh. “You have to do this, my love.”
“Is this what you want?” he asked her.
“It’s not about what I want,” she said softly, holding his gaze. “But what they need… And they need to believe that hope still lives.”
Race tucked her hair behind her ear, his touch achingly tender for a male who’d just toppled an empire. “All right,” he murmured, rising. “Rest. I’ll be back the moment I’m done.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” Ash swung her legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as her ribs stung. “I’m going with you.” But she stayed seated, keeping the blanket firmly over her knickered bottom.
His expression turned incredulous. “You need rest.”
“And you’re about to stand before thousands of terrified, battle-worn people who’ve just seen their world turned upside down again.
The least you can do is appear to have your trusted mate by your side, even if she’s in a wrinkled shirt and smells like dragon char—well, once I’ve put on some trousers. ”
“Ash,” he growled.
“Yes, my liege?” she asked sweetly.
He exhaled sharply, but something flickered in his eyes.
Reluctant admiration? Ah, no, must be pride. She bit her lip to stop her smile.
“You’ll be the death of me, woman.”
Ash raised her chin, her toes digging into the warm wooden floor. “Not today, my darling dragon. Today, we live.”
For a heartbeat, crimson fire kindled in his gaze—raw and fierce enough to make her forget her wounds and want to climb him.
“Very well. But you stay with me. If you falter—”
“I won’t.”
“If you do,” he growled, “I will lock you up until I decree you’re fit to walk.”
She gave him a quick, almost docile nod.
He shook his head, the faintest smile ghosting across his mouth.
“The new dais should be ready soon,” Attor said, clearing his throat.
Ash groaned. She’d forgotten he was still there. “Sorry, Attor.”
“Don’t mind me, my lady,” he said, but Ash heard the smile in his voice. “Varkyn and Braxion are holding back the crowd in the square. They’re restless, sire.”
Race nodded. “Right. I’ll be there soon.”
The door shut behind Attor.
“Damn,” he muttered, already striding for the door. “There’s something I need to discuss with Attor. Don’t move. I’ll be back.”
“Don’t move,” she echoed under her breath as the door shut. “Easy for you to say.” With a tired yawn, she pushed to her feet, found her backpack, and dug out clean clothes.
After several minutes—and a lot of frustrated growls and panting—she managed to pull on her jeans and socks before collapsing onto the window seat. “Good Lord,” she breathed. “One-handed dressing is a whole other level of torture.” Then she glared at her lace-up boots. “Traitors.”
The door opened, and Race walked in, looking a little windblown, and she frowned.
He smoothed back his tied hair and lifted an eyebrow, taking in what she was trying to do. “It’s why I said to wait.”
“Where did you go?”
“Had to get something. No, Attor couldn’t do it. Just me. Let me get that.” He knelt at her feet and helped her put on her boots. “I would dematerialize us over, but with your bones still healing, it would hurt like hell.”
“Yeah.” She shuddered. “So, it’s dragon mode, then—wait. Didn’t you say only your line bore black dragons? Wouldn’t that reassure them?”
“Hard to say.” He shrugged, deftly tying the last lace and looked up. “It’s been a long time. We’ll find out soon enough.”
She braced a hand on his shoulder and stood, refusing to show the jolt of pain rippling through her ribs. He rose and zipped up her jeans, his thumbs grazing her stomach. “Okay?”
She nodded, nerves knotting.
“I won’t drop you, heart-fire. I would have let you ride me, but you’ll need both hands.”
Right. “It’s quite all right.”
“C’mon.” He pulled her into a brief, grounding hug before stripping and leading her downstairs.
Outside, the late afternoon sunlight cast a warm glow over Duskscale’s streets.
Race stepped clear of the buildings and shifted into his enormous dragon form, far taller than any of the structures.
His scales gleamed like polished onyx, and his silver-tipped spines glimmered like stars in an obsidian sky.
He was so incredibly beautiful.
Ready?
Her gaze traveled up his long neck, and trepidation crept through her. She met his crimson eyes.
He lowered his enormous head, his warm breath tousling her hair, and his large, rough tongue lapped at her neck and face.
“Stop.” She laughed, pushing his scaled snout away from her, her claiming mark tingling, her wariness dissipating. “I’m ready.”
Her dragon chuffed, then scooped her up with his talons, careful of her injured arm and ribs.
“Well, this is a first for me, using this mode of travel with you.” She patted his talon, and though he couldn’t see her expression, she smirked. “I always thought when I rode you, my hands were free to do other things.”
A low rumbling purr reached her. You do like tormenting me, don’t you, heart-fire?
He leaped skyward with a thunderous sweep of wings. The rush of wind tore at her hair, and her stomach dropped.
“Warn me next time!” she shouted, gripping his claw tight.
And her tormenting dragon’s huff sounded exactly like laughter as he flew off into the sky.