Chapter Ten #2
“We do.” I ate a spoonful, let the warmth embolden me, and went on. “We love to sing, but it's usually for a purpose. Like you, we sing to mourn or celebrate. We sing to comfort ourselves or to thank the sky.”
“Thank the sky?” He tore a chunk off a loaf of bread and offered it to me.
I took it and dipped it into my stew, focusing on the act so I wouldn't have to look at him. “Air magic gives us flight. It carries us. The currents support us. So a lot of our songs feature air, flying, or the sky.”
“You haven't lost that magic, Eliel.”
I looked over at him. “No, it's still in me. But I can't set it free until my wing mends.”
“How is it feeling?”
“A little better.”
“I would sing to heal you if I could. Alas, our magic is empowered by Fire and Water. It can comfort, but not heal.”
“I suppose healing isn't as important for a Dragon.”
“We do heal fast, but we aren't invulnerable.” He frowned into the fire. “We can be hurt if enough force is applied. Or enough sorrow.”
“Sorrow?”
The King's jaw clenched. “If we mate and then lose our mate, we usually follow them to the grave.”
My spoon fell into the stew, clattering on the side of the bowl.
The Dragon King slowly turned to meet my horrified stare. “You're surprised? Haven't you heard of Dragons dying of a broken heart?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Ah, yes. You're from the forest. Do you know about Dragon mates?”
I shivered under the intensity of his gaze. The fire sparked within his night-darkened eyes. His question felt momentous. “I only know that you mate for life like Lelurra, although we call it marriage.”
One of the knights made a soft sound of amazement.
The King glanced at him before turning back to me. “There is much more to it than that. A mating bond is unbreakable. It's an exchange of souls.”
“An exchange of souls?”
“Not all of it. We give our mate a little piece of ourselves.”
“Even when you mate someone who isn't a Dragon? Or can you mate outside your race?” My heart sped up.
“Yes, we can. In such a situation, our mate cannot reciprocate, but that doesn't matter.
With our souls in them, we are united. We sense things about each other.
Even if love doesn't bind us when we form the union, it will come.
It's inevitable. You see, our mates are chosen for us by the Goddess Ensarena. She knows best who will love us truly and make eternity worthwhile. Without our mate, we are incomplete. Many of us have gone centuries, waiting for the Goddess to bless us. Immortality begins to wear upon us. But Ensarena never fails us. She saves us with her guidance, wisdom, and love. She gives us what we need to survive right when we need it.”
“But . . . what if you fall in love with someone who isn't your mate?”
“That can happen, but the love isn't as strong as what comes to a mated pair.”
“So, the Dragon will leave their lover for their mate?” My stomach clenched. Another tragedy loomed over me. What if I fell in love with King Raventar and overcame my trauma to be with him, only for him to then meet his mate?
“Yes, a mate will always win against everyone else in a Dragon's life. Even family doesn't matter as much as a mate.”
“And how do you know when you've found your mate?”
“There is a sexual response.”
Instead of being shocked, I was intrigued. “You must have sex with them to know who they are?”
“Yes.”
“How limiting.”
One of the knights laughed and then coughed to cover it when the King glared at him.
“It's why we tend to be promiscuous. We don't have to fall in love to find our mate. Just—”
“Fall in lust,” I cut him off.
The same knight—Sir Foxren—chortled this time.
The Dragon King didn't glare at him. Instead, he joined in. “Yes, Eliel, we can fall in lust and find our mate. But love will come.”
“You say there's a sexual response. What type of response?”
I couldn't be sure, what with the firelight playing on his face, but I thought the King blushed.
He cleared his throat. “It's . . . an, um, extended climax.”
“How long does it go on?”
“Quite long. And even after it stops, it's only a pause until the Dragon or Dragons are revived and must go through it again. The process can last several days.”
I gaped at him.
He cleared his throat again.
I leaned toward him. “You . . . you'll have sex for several days? Without pause?”
“There are pauses to see to our basic needs, but, yes.” With a wincing expression, he turned to look at me. “It's said to be the most beautiful and savage time of a Dragon's life. Exhausting, but wonderful.”
A chill ran over my arms, lifting the little hairs there. “Savage?”
“We don't hurt our mates, Eliel,” the King said firmly and a little chidingly. “We cannot hurt our mates. We'd sooner die.”
“Then what do you mean by savage?”
“The mating period is a very volatile time for a Dragon. They get possessive. Usually, the couple is sequestered so that the Dragons don't attack other people out of fear that they may take their mates.”
“You attack people because you get possessive over your mates?”
“We can during the settling stage, yes.” He grimaced. “But every Dragon is different.”
“I can't imagine you getting savage like that.”
The Dragon King's eyes slid toward me, and his face shifted into something I didn't recognize. I had a glimpse of the man who had won a throne through bloodshed.
Lowering my gaze, I whispered, “I suppose I don't know you that well.”
“I'm trying to rectify that.” Sighing, the King set his bowl down and pulled something from an inner pocket of his cloak.
Holding it out to the firelight, he brushed a finger over it. I leaned closer again. It was a collection of thin leather cords, bound by intricate knots. They started at one end and finished halfway down, leaving a fringed tail and space for more knots.
“I'm still searching for my mate,” the King said. “I may become savage when I claim him, but only with passion. Afterward, I'm sure I would treasure and protect him. My past speaks for me.”
The Dragon King held the knotted length out to me.
I took it and held it up to examine. The knots were more like tiny pieces of art, their loops twisted in fascinating ways that created patterns.
An image flashed in my mind—the white ribbon Bara had tied on my wrist to enslave me.
This cord was nothing like that. I could feel it.
Whatever magic lay within these cords, it was good.
Bara enslaved with his knots, but the Dragon King was a different man.
No matter how savage he got, he wouldn't be like Bara. He couldn't be.
“The last pillar of our magic is the story-knot,” the King said. “These are my stories.”
I looked up at him in shock. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his knights staring at us. A glance their way told me they were just as shocked as I.
“Your Majesty.” I held the story-knot reverently. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
He chuckled. “You don't even know what they mean.”
“No, but I know they're important to you. Will you tell me your stories?”
“I will exchange knots with you, Eliel.”
“I don't have a story-knot.”
“But you have stories. I want to hear yours.”
I flushed and looked away. “You know my story.”
“I know a story in the collection that is you.” He touched the knot at the top of the cords, careful not to touch me.
“This is my birth. The knot was made by my parents, each taking a turn to weave their joy into my memory.” He tapped it.
“I was born in a small enclave called Twin Mountains.” His finger ran along a double loop.
“My mother laughed as I came into the world.” His finger swooped up into a dramatic curve in the knot.
“My father cried.” The cord curled in upon itself.
“The whole enclave celebrated.” The knot smoothed into a collected wave of five cords.
He looked up at me. “Tell me of your birth, Eliel.”
My voice lodged in my throat like a river behind a dam. But then I closed my eyes and let the air flow through me. In my mind, I saw my home. My mother's smile. I heard my father call to me. And the story they told me came to my lips.
“The birth was hard on my mother. It was winter, and the chill made her wings ache. So, my father stoked all the fires in the house. He prayed to Lurransa and pulled a flight feather in offering. For my mother, he grew violets indoors. To brighten winter for her.” I opened my eyes and met the King's soft gaze.
“He called them winter violets. Father swore the Goddess heard his prayers and not only helped my mother through my birth but also gave her an eternal violet in me. I was their winter bloom, my hair the color of her favorite flowers—rare and precious to our people.”
“Rare and precious,” the King murmured, looking down at his lap. He lifted his stare to meet mine, and something warm shone from his eyes. “Yes, indeed.”
I blushed and looked away, my gaze catching on those of the Dragon knights sprawled on camp blankets around us. They were listening too, interested in my story. How strange. It should have made me nervous, but it had the opposite effect. Because of their respectful attention, I continued to speak.
“I came into this world singing. That's what my mother said.
I didn't cry like other babies. I sang, and with my song, my wings sprouted. The earliest sprout known among our people. My father said it was the mark of our Goddess, and that Lurransa gave me beauty and dominion over the sky. I think it was my father whom she favored, not me. His sacrifice is what gave me this.” I waved at my hair and wings. “I had nothing to do with it.”
“That's what parents do. They sacrifice for their children. They bring us to life and then love us for living.” The King's hands moved strangely, but I couldn't see what he did in the dark.
“It is for us to honor their sacrifice and live well. We must earn their pride, and that, along with our love, is their payment.” He took his story knots from me and handed me something in exchange.
I lifted it to the firelight. It was a collection of white leather cords with a single knot at one end. A beautiful, intricate knot. I gasped. “Is this?”
“That is your story-knot, Eliel. That knot is the story of your birth.” He tapped it, taking me through each twist and turn so I could recognize them.
“Winter. Your mother's struggle. Your father's sacrifice. Violets of the earth and the air. Your song emerging with you. Your wings sprouting early. Then the completion with the blessing of your Goddess.”
“Your Majesty.” My throat closed as I saw my story told with his magic. “This is the most remarkable gift anyone has ever given me. Thank you.”
“May I?” He motioned at my face.
I nodded, though I didn't know what he was asking permission for.
The Dragon King brushed a tear from my cheek, surprising me with its very presence. “When you share your next story with me, I will record it for you. I will show you how to tie the knot if you wish.”
“I would like that very much.”
The knights, done with their meal, began to drum again. I waited, but the King didn't sing. He looked hopefully at me a few times, but I didn't dare sing after his performance. In fact, it saddened me a bit. The Dragon King outshone me in every way.
Stealing a glance at him, I wondered what it would be like to be his mate.
Would his savagery be anything like Bara's?
Even if it was, I thought it would be worth it to have him as my own.
To be loved by a man like him forever was something I would endure much for.
But I doubted it would be me. As much as my father swore I was blessed by our Goddess, I believed it was the opposite.
Staring down at the knot in my lap, I saw my birth not as a miracle but as a bargain.
My father had sacrificed a feather, but the Goddess wanted more.
She gave me life and saved my mother, but I paid for it. I paid dearly.
Sitting there, within the sacred stones of King Raventar's people, I knew I hadn't finished paying the Goddess's price. And this payment would hurt far more than anything Bara had ever done to me.