Chapter Fourteen
“You don't have to,” Raventar said.
The King's voice and the rocking of the carriage soothed me. It was just us. I could do this. I could sing for him.
“I'm not that good.” I went back to massaging his shoulders. Although healed, the mark left by Nahel's sword was still there, thin but an angry red. I stroked it, hoping to soothe the compulsion away.
“You have the most beautiful voice I've ever heard.” He turned his head to look at me. “I'm sorry. I overheard you a few times.”
“A few?” I squeaked.
“Please, Eliel. Sing to me. It will ease my anger. Surely, the Lelurra have a song for comfort.”
“We do, but I won't sing it for you.”
The King swallowed roughly and turned his face forward. “I understand.”
“I will sing you a healing song, though.”
His face jerked back toward me. “What song?”
“It's traditionally sung to fledglings with injured wings or to elders who can no longer fly. It is meant to slow the heart rate and ease pain.”
“That sounds perfect,” he whispered.
I focused on his back, my hands moving instinctively while I summoned my courage. The first few notes were wobbly, but when the King's muscles loosened under my fingers, I put more power into the words, my song swinging into a steady melody.
“Feather warm, feather slow.
Rest your weight on the wind.
It carries you now.
Struggle no more.
The sky will find you,
even when you're on the ground.
Feather warm, feather slow.
Rest your weight upon the wind.”
As I sang, I was comforted too. My aching wing eased, tingling sensations flowing through the broken bones.
I could feel connections forming. How foolish of me to forget that I could heal myself.
But how wondrous it was that I healed the King as well.
Under my stroking fingers, his wound leached color.
By the end of my song, it had flattened into his skin, vanishing as if it had never been.
“Feather warm, feather slow,” I trailed off, my hands going still.
As I slid my hands away, the King shuddered. I looked at his face. His head was down, resting on his cheek, and his eyes were still on me, wide now. I looked away and moved to sit back.
The Dragon King sat up and stretched his back with a sound of amazement. “Eliel! This is wondrous! I feel revived!” He took my hand and pulled me back to him. “Have you sung to yourself?”
“I didn't think of it until now,” I whispered, holding his stare. “It has helped. My wing feels better.”
“Why didn't you think of it sooner?”
I shrugged. “I forgot about the song until you needed it.”
Raven's turquoise eyes flashed. “You forgot when you were in need, but my need reminded you?”
“Yes.”
Raven pulled me into his arms, his knees opening so I could press my chest to his, once more tucked in against his heart.
“My sweet, gentle foundling. My miracle. Every day I find more to admire in you. Thank you.” He leaned back to meet my gaze.
“Thank you for remembering for me. Thank you for the gift of your song.”
“It helped me too.” I stretched my wing. “I think I'll fly again.”
“I told you, you would.” He cupped my cheek.
I leaned forward, needing more. With a pleased rumble, the Dragon King met me halfway, his warm lips easing mine apart.
The feel of his flesh slipping inside me, even this small piece of him, made me ravenous.
I fed at his mouth, my hands sliding into his long hair to pull him closer.
Lust shot down my spine, shocking me in its intensity and its timing.
We had nearly died, both of us, and yet I wanted to bed him.
But maybe that was the very thing that inspired this raging need. I reached for his pants.
The King jerked back. “No!”
Gaping at him, I fell back, my wings curling against the opposite bench.
“Don't be upset.” He retrieved my hand and pressed it to his chest. “I'm stopping us both.”
“Why?” I whispered. “I'm ready. I finally think I can make love to you without my past coming between us. Why would you stop this?”
“Two reasons, my foundling.” Raven stroked his thumb over my hand.
“First, this is too sudden. You need time to absorb this progress before you act on it. I think perhaps the battle has emboldened you, but it is a false courage. And two, our first time together will not be in a moving carriage. You deserve better than that.”
Panic drove me forward, and I clutched at his shoulder with my free hand. “No, I don't! I deserve this. I want you now, Raven!”
“Shhh.” He eased me down, bringing my head to his chest, and stroked my hair. “Be still now. Let your blood slow. The urgency will pass. Then you'll be able to think more clearly, and you'll realize I'm right.”
“I don't want to think,” I grumbled into his chest. “I want to feel you inside me.”
The Dragon King let out a wounded cry and shuddered.
I pulled back to look at him. “Are you alright? Shall I sing again?”
Chuckling, he pulled me back into his arms. “The pain is of your making, my foundling. I want you even more than you want me. But I refuse to disrespect what is growing between us. I want our first lovemaking to be something we'll both remember for the rest of our lives.”
“I will remember this. I swear it.”
Raven burst out laughing. “I will too. But I want more.” He clasped my face in his hands. “You will not deny me this. I have been patient for you. Now, you will be patient for me.”
Sighing, I sat back and slipped free of his hands. “Very well.”
“Will you tell me a story to distract us?”
My hand went to my pocket where my story-knot waited. “What story do you want to hear?”
“Any you're willing to share.”
I handed him the story-knot. “Will you show me how to tie it?”
“Of course.” He spread the cords out and waited.
I pushed back and up to sit on the edge of my bench. The King's clothing lay beside me, and I knew his story-knot was tucked in his cloak. If I gave him a piece of me, he'd give me a piece of him.
“Fledglings fly by the age of two.” I leaned over and opened the curtains, needing to see the sky.
“But you flew sooner?” Raven prompted.
I looked back at him. “Yes. When I was three months old, I leapt from my father's arms and glided to the ground.” I paused, watching his fingers twist the cords.
“This loop is for flight, you see?” He showed it to me. “And I twist under it three times to indicate your age.”
I nodded. “My mother was scared, but father knew it was time. He took me out onto the terrace outside our front door and held me up. He called out to the tribe to witness it and waited.”
“Here is your mother's fear.” Raven turned the cords into a frazzled ball. “And then your father's confidence. I turn the outer cords in, you see?”
“I see it.” I smiled. “When the tribe came out of their homes and stood on their platforms to watch, my father kissed my cheek and tossed me off the side.”
Raven jerked forward. “He what?!”
“It's how we learn to fly.” I chuckled. “Our homes are in the trees, many feet in the air. I had time to spread my wings and catch the wind.”
“Dear Gods.”
I tapped the knot he was forming. “What next?”
“Oh! Uh.” Raven's fingers started moving, creating a dramatic swoosh. “Your leap witnessed by your tribe.” He looked up at me. “You flew, I assume?”
“I did. It was another historic event, credited to our goddess.”
Raven finished the knot, showing me how to pull it all tight, and then handed it to me. “Thank you for sharing that with me.” He frowned. “It feels as if your goddess knew you'd need the strength of the sky as soon as possible.”
I went still. “I've never thought of it like that.”
He cupped my cheek. “She made you brave and strong, my foundling. You've just forgotten it. Like your song.”
Letting out a long sigh, I reached for his cloak and handed it to him. “Your turn. You promised.”
Raven chuckled and pulled out his story-knot. “I have a similar story for you. My second knot—the second major event in my life—was my first flight as well.”
“It was?” I looked down at the knot below his birth knot.
“Yes. But I had to shapeshift as well. This is the story of my dragon's birth.”
A shiver ran over me. “Your dragon. Is he separate from you?”
“No, we are one, but he is my primal self, with his own needs and urges. The man in me had to learn to control the beast. Dragon children can be rambunctious until that happens.”
“I can imagine.”
“My dragon called to me when I was four.” He tapped the knot. “I remember the roar inside my head and the ache in my chest. It was as if something huge was trying to push itself out of me.”
“That must have been terrifying.”
“I wasn't scared. I felt him, and he felt natural.” He tapped the turns of his knot.
“He led me through my shift. It was like coming awake and stretching.
My muscles felt as if they'd been restrained for too long. And then I was him.” He ran his finger over the intricate collection of nubs that looked like a dragon's head.
“He taught me to fly. I can still remember the feeling of awe, how my chest seemed to open wide to take in the world.”
“I know that feeling! That's how I feel when I fly.”
Raven grinned and took my hand. “We are more alike than you know.”
“Tell me more. Were your parents proud?”
“I scared my father.” He chuckled. “Usually, our parents teach us to shift by showing us their dragons, and then they escort us on our first flight.
But I had done it all alone, and flew off to explore.
My father saw me and had to shift quickly and give chase.
He said he'd never been so scared as when he saw me soaring off toward town. Scared and proud.”
I smiled, imagining Raven as a little dragon, roaring as he flew over his enclave. “You were warning them all of what you'd become.”
“I find it very interesting that we both had unusual first flights.”
“Maybe your goddess and mine are friends.”
Raven blinked. “I've never thought of the Gods interacting with each other, but why not? They must get lonely.”
“Everyone needs a friend.” I touched his story-knot, wondering if we really were meant for each other, our lives mimicking each other's from the very beginning.
“Yes, everyone needs a friend. Even lovers are best when they're friends first.” Raven's gaze coasted over my face. “Will you be my friend, Eliel?”
“I'm afraid it's too late for that, Raven.”
He blinked, his mouth falling open.
“We've been more than friends from the start. We can't go back now.”
Raven let out a soft sound of pleasure and mirth.
“I don't want to go back, but we can go forward into friendship, my foundling.
Friends share stories, as we just did. They keep each other's secrets and dream about the future together.
They laugh and support each other. Friends share everything that's important in their lives. I want all these things with you. So, I ask you again, will you be my friend?”
“Yes, my Raven. I'll be your friend.”
With a sound of joy, he dropped to his knees and pulled me into a kiss.