Chapter One #2
As the sun set, the roof tiles dimmed from white to silver, shutting down for the night.
The energy they absorbed from the sun had already been sent to the palace's solar storage to be used by machines such as lifters, ovens, and heaters.
Even as I watched, some of that energy was used to light the palace, glows appearing in windows and lights coming on all over the courtyard and throughout the gardens.
The grandeur implied wealth and importance, while those brutal boars shouted a warning that all should be wary of the man who held this wealth and status by claws and teeth.
I rolled my eyes at the lot, impressed by the architects more than the king.
I had never met the man, but I'd heard he was a reasonable sort.
Hopefully, we'd get along. Honestly, his personality didn't matter as long as he offered me a price worthy of my skill.
We made it past the gate, rolling up to the base of the palace stairs to come to a stop.
Matthias opened my door, and I climbed out without hesitation, my furred tail twitching behind me.
Before me, a stretch of steps led to two ridiculously tall doors.
Who in all of Serai needed that kind of clearance?
No one, that's who. What a waste of wood and space.
I straightened my coat, pulled down my shirt cuffs to peep just beyond my sleeves, and stared at the central boar's head that hung above the doors.
It was large. And fanged. So aggressive. With a deep sigh, I went up the steps.
Before I reached the doors, they burst open, uniformed men scrambling to hold them wide as they pressed themselves back, out of the way.
A massive Dragon man barreled past them, blond hair swept back in a sleek, modern style—short and no-nonsense.
He wore a tunic of blue silk embroidered with gold boars, but over that, gold and blue pauldrons rested on his shoulders, and matching gauntlets covered his lower arms as if he were going to war.
It should have looked ridiculous. Instead, the armor added to his bulk and presence, enlarging him to divine proportions.
I lifted my eyebrows as I inspected him. What a fascinating specimen of Dragon virility.
The Dragon King stopped on the last step before me and cocked his head. His eyes caught the sun, the brown orbs coming to life with striations of golden amber. “You're the Alchemist?”
I nodded. “You're the Dragon King?”
He grunted. “Come with me.”
Instead of going into the keep, the King led me around the side of it. But he stopped after two steps, his stare going to my traveling case. “You can leave that here. Someone will take it to your room.”
“Thank you, but I'd rather keep it with me.” I drew the case closer when a servant approached.
The King nodded at the servant, and the servant backed away. “Very well. This way.”
I followed King Falken around the side of the soaring keep, through a gate, and into a quiet garden lit with lampposts that spotted the path, the flowers just closing for the night.
We didn't go far down the garden path, just far enough to have some privacy.
After a curve, he stepped off the flagstones and headed to a clearing before a pond.
With a huff, the King sat on a stone bench under the halo of a lamppost and glared at the fishpond in front of him.
Frowning, I stopped to stand beside him.
He motioned to an iron chair on his right. “Please sit.”
I sat down. And kept going.
With a cry, I crumpled with the broken pieces of the chair, ending up on my ass amid the iron detritus, tail lifted in shock.
Gaping, I stared at the remnants of black filigree around me.
“What the actual fuck?!” I picked up a piece of iron.
It seemed sound until I put pressure on it, and then silver cracks formed, frosting over the black, and the iron split in two. “What is this nonsense?”
Instead of laughing, as most men would have done, King Falken sighed again.
This time, his shoulders lowered with the sound.
“That nonsense is why you are here, Master Sevarin.
We are calling it the Silver Rot. It has infected enchantments set in metal and stone.
Wards are failing, weapons disintegrating, and gates crumble to fucking dust!
Magic only makes it worse. And it's spreading.” He stood up and took my hand to pull me to my feet.
“I'm sorry about that. I didn't plan it. Honestly, I forgot they enchanted the iron furniture out here to be immune to rust.” He snorted.
“Ironic that the enchantment meant to protect it has led to its destruction.”
I glared at the metal pieces. “Fucking magic.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don't trust it. Never have.”
“Magic or protection.”
“Neither.”
He lifted his dark-blond brows. “Don't alchemists work with magic?”
“Only to cure it when it goes awry. Alchemists work with nature, not against it.”
The King grunted.
“The Silver Rot,” I turned the words over in my mouth. “Fascinating.”
“Fascinating? It's destroying my kingdom!”
A pressure on my hand reminded me that the King still held it. I looked down at our joined hands—his larger one enveloping mine. Then so did he. Clearing his throat, he let go.
That's when I saw him. Really saw him. Sharp jawline and even sharper stare.
Intelligence shone in his eyes, but anxiety wrinkled the skin around them.
Regal brow—rather expected but still attractive.
Thick nose that wasn't at all expected. Thin lips.
No fuss. Then there was his body—thickly muscled, tall, trim waist, plump ass, and, most importantly, a significant bulge between his legs.
The combination made for a handsome, alluring Dragon.
The perfect man, I dare say. I breathed in the scent of sandalwood and musk.
His scent. My body reacted immediately, sacs clenching, cock twitching, and tail flicking behind me as my pointed ears perked to hear His Majesty's rapid breaths.
“Fix this, Master Alchemist. Or tell me how long I have.”
I blinked, so distracted by him that it took me a moment to realize he had asked me to fix the Silver Rot or tell him how long he had before it overtook the kingdom.
Interesting. I liked his bluntness. Normally, I would have responded in kind, but, as I said, my life had become magical, and that odd, unpredictable force, tingling over my skin, had me reacting out of character.
“Oh, that's not how this will go, Your Majesty,” I drawled. Dear Gods, am I flirting? When was the last time I'd even felt the inclination?
“What do you mean?” The Dragon King leaned closer, his eyes narrowing.
“We haven't discussed my price yet.”
Suddenly, his scent shifted, becoming richer, more primal.
King Falken's expression went from blank to intensely focused.
He licked his lips. His gaze flicked up, taking in my white horns, curling back from my temples and then forward to end beneath my ears in a nearly complete circle.
His gaze slid from my horn tips to my face, then down the length of my long white hair, where it draped over my chest to my waist. Past the ends of my hair.
Over my crotch, along my legs, to my tail, and then back up.
He was doing a more thorough inspection of me than I had of him.
The King lifted his gaze to mine. “How much are you worth, Master Sevarin?”
I shivered as I focused on his lips. “Much more than you think.”
“You underestimate me. I think you're worth a great deal.” The King's lips remained slightly parted to release his ragged breaths.
“I'm not underestimating you at all. I repeat, I'm worth much more than you think.”
Chuckling, the Dragon King murmured, “Then I will meet your demands, Master Sevarin. Whatever they may be.”
Grinning, I mentally added him to my list of demands. “I'm sure you will, King Falken, and I look forward to serving you.”