17. Drakonis
17
DRAKONIS
“ Y ou sent ‘er the flowers?” Alastair asked.
“Yes,” Drakonis answered, pulling down his tunic, and heating his shirt anywhere he saw a wrinkle. Today was the first day of the Dawning Festival, and the day that he was going to take Clara to see Ouroboros’s sights.
“You have the cloaks?” Alastair continued.
“Yes.” Around his neck was an unassuming brown cloak, the hood folded behind his head. Instead of his robes, he donned a simple white tunic and black pants. Today, he would blend. No one would bother him for anything political or otherwise. There was so much to say to her. Last night, Clara danced in his dreams. She smiled more naturally, took his hand again, said his name.
“Be sure to sneak her out the side, or those noblewomen will surround ya again,” Alastair said.
“I know what to do. This isn’t my first rendezvous,” Drakonis growled. Lately it seemed like whenever he wanted to spend time with her, noblewomen would push the two apart, eager for his attention. Many forgot she was even in the castle since she locked herself in the library.
We must take her back to the royal library. His dragon growled. Drakonis grunted in affirmation. She was focusing on helping his people, but she also stayed in his arms majority of the time.
“My friend, you are no stranger with tha ladies, but with this one you are as bad as Kazimir. Or did ya forget when you tried to interrogate her?”
He wanted to retort, but what could he say? Ragnar’s letter had brought up the Pythia. She knew information that high ranking dragons did not know. And she knew of his dragon from the first time they met. He would make it up to her today. There would be no one in the kingdom as charming as he.
Over his arm, lay a beautiful pink cloak. The unassuming cotton was no different than what any commoner, or traveler, would wear, but on the inside was the finest silk with embroidered scenes of spring. Just like his kymuruh , it would adjust to her body temperature. If she was hot, it would cool her. If she was cool, then it would warm her.
“If ya screw this up, then I’ve given up all hope on ya,” Alastair said, clasping a heavy hand on Drakonis’s shoulder. “I’ve got everything covered ‘ere. Do not bring that woman back until well past midnight.”
When Clara had sent word, she would join him for the festival, his heart leapt in anticipation. When was the last time he was so excited to see someone? “Watch everything she does. Spoil her like I know ya do those other ladies.”
“Alastair.” Drakonis stopped. Alastair did the same but started fidgeting with Drakonis’s clothes. “I appreciate your support, but I do not need your help with romance.”
“I see how you look at her,” Alastair continued, as if Drakonis said nothing. “You watch ‘er even when she’s not looking. Ya take her places she has no business going. All because you think it is what she desires.”
“All are welcome at the hunt,” Drakonis said.
“Yes, but no one is welcome at the emperor’s library. A prince doesn’t dedicate his kill to just any lady. And tha empress seemed quite charmed.”
Drakonis did not plan his mother staying close to Clara, but he was grateful. Gavril pushing him to invite her was a good decision after all.
“You are changing every day around her,” Alastair continued. “Especially after what happened with Gavril.” Drakonis cleared his throat. The pain was still there, but when he was with Clara, the pain seemed to lessen. A delicate princess had started to become such a strength to him. “And do not think that I do not notice the glare ya give me when I’m escorting her around. I think I’ve ‘eard a growl or two.”
His inner dragon rumbled, chuckling at the obvious truth.
“It is not something I can control.” It was partly true. He had infatuations with women before, but Clara was different. Even if he tried to play the part as a prince, she would always see through him.
Alastair shrugged, shaking his head. “You’re my friend,” he said with an oddly serious look in his black eyes. “I think your family robbed you of your destiny as a kid, and the emperor is a fool to believe Kazimir is the future for our people.”
“He has his reasons,” Drakonis answered.
“He may, but if that’s the case, then he needs to put more pressure on Kazimir. Not you. You’re the one that brought peace to the land, and the one our citizens’ trust. Gavril thought the same thing.”
“A prince is perfect in every way. It is only in perfection that he can serve his people dutifully and in the way they need.” He repeated the line his father bore into him since he was first born.
“The gods chose wrong at the Ruins,” Alastair said. “The lady sees the same thing. If she is your chance at happiness, I want ya to take it.”
“Once she finds the Heir, her mission will be done,” Drakonis said.
“Once she finds the Heir, she has fulfilled her duty to the gods. Give her another reason to live. Make this the first step in making her so madly in love with you she will never leave,” Alastair said.
I like this plan. His dragon whispered. Power moved in his body, setting his nerves aflame. The closer they got to Clara’s door, the more he itched to rush through them.
“Even if that would happen, our court wouldn’t accept her. She is Ragnar’s sister-in-law and a human.”
“You’re a prince. The first uniquely brilliant one in generations. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. But first…” Alastair grasped onto Drakonis’s shoulder and pushed him. He stumbled in front of the door. “Don’t muck this up!” He whispered loudly.
Drakonis rolled his eyes and knocked. Alastair jumped behind a large plant, disappearing. He heard rustling then a soft voice. None of this was new. He was simply taking Clara out to see the festival. It was only a bonus if he got to see her smile, laugh, or felt her close.
He cleared his throat, flexing his clawed fingers. How different was it to court a human woman over a dragon woman? Instead of fussing over his own looks, he should have investigated this more. Or asked Nero. Bastard gargoyle. Only appearing to scold him, but not to help him when he needed.
Drakonis’s mouth was dry as he took Clara in. She braided her long black hair, and it sat over her shoulder, with the tips grazing her under breast.Strands fell loosely at her temples, hiding the top part of her ears. Simple golden shields dangled from her lobes, accentuating the simple gold chain she wore over her neck. Her light blue stola had petal embroidery and a rounded neckline. Rose-colored silk draped over her shoulder and golden leaves were tight around her waist.
“I look strange,” she said, grasping her elbow looking at the ground. Instead of the normal, schooled expression, she blushed.
“Not at all,” Drakonis answered quickly.
“I-I am overdressed compared to you. I do not wish to even appear as if I’m outshining you, your highness.”
Drakonis grabbed her by the forearm before she could close the door of her room.
“Clara.” Her voice sounded so right on his tongue. “Today, I am simply me. Not a prince. Just a dragon who wants to take you to the festivities.”
Her eyes widened as she watched him. She was searching for something, but he did not know what. She must have found something for, in a moment, she nodded. Drakonis squeezed her hand, rejoicing at her grin.
“I am happy you wore such a dress,” he continued, handing her the cloak. “I know how you enjoyed my kymuruh in the forest. I had a cloak made of a similar material.” She hesitated, staring at it then back at him. “Do not deny me this. I beg you. My scales would give me away in a moment in the crowd. With both of us hidden, we can blend in the crowds. Enjoy ourselves to the fullest.”
A light sparkled in her eyes. He purred at the sight. Joy filled him as she finally took it and wrapped it around her shoulders, lifting the hood.
“Thank you…Drakonis.”
Calling him by his name made him happier than he would have thought. He grabbed her hand, careful not to scratch her.
“Come,” he said. “We can sneak out the servant’s entrance.”
The servant’s quarters were empty. Drakonis felt Clara’s grip get tighter as they sped walk, looking around every corner, and pulling up their hoods as they made it through the gardens and out of the gates.
Drakonis heard footsteps. Running behind a tree, he pulled her to his chest, hiding in the shadows.
“What are we…?” Drakonis placed a finger to her lips. He bent his head, whispering in his ear.
“We will make it out of here undetected.” Clara quivered back.
“Does anyone know we are leaving the grounds?” she whispered. From under the cloak, he could see her cheeks turning pink.
“And have guards follow us every moment? Absolutely not.” He expected her to scold him with the schooled face she always wore. Warmth filled his chest as she covered her mouth with her hand, pressing her face closer to his chest, and giggled. He gripped her tighter. Could it be she was looking forward to this as much as he?
The footsteps faded away. He glanced from behind the tree to see the guard turn a corner.
“Come.” He was sad to let her go, but he grabbed her hand and was running through with her until they reached the front gates. A crowd had already formed, filled with lower and middle classes. “Walk as if this is familiar, and do not let go of my hand.”
“Are you sure people won’t recognize us?” she asked. She leaned closer, the smell of her flowery perfume filling his nose.
“No,” Drakonis answered honestly. “But I’ll be damned if they stop us.” The common people would know they were at least lower nobles. If anyone got too suspicious, he would just hide in plain sight, in the crowds, anything to keep this time theirs.
“Father and my elder brother, Romanus, always scolded Elisora for doing stuff like this,” Clara said. “It is exhilarating. I see now why she did it.”
Drakonis switched hands as the crowd got thicker. He slung one arm around her waist, holding her close to his side at the waist. She held on as they worked their way through the crowd. Once they got through the high-class festivities, he could take her where he really wanted to go.
Smells shifts as he got closer to the village. Instead of gowns, fancy kymus , and fans, dragons wore tunics and pants. Gray scaled dragons, male and female, filled the streets. Children were skipping in a circle playing and stands sat along the edges of the street hawking wears and food.
“If I did not know about your scales, I wouldn’t recognize them,” Clara said.
“A dragon’s scales depend on their rank,” Drakonis answered. “Commoners have grey scales, royalty purple, dukedom blue, and it goes on. It is how dragons distinguish themselves in society.” Clara nodded, but her lips were straight. Grimness would not do today. “Look over there!” He pointed to a place where there was a circle of people gathered. Gypsies in bright colors danced with fire and silks, their faces half covered in a mask.
“Can we go?” Childlike sparkle filled her eyes as she looked up; the brightest smile lightening her face as he nodded.
Just that alone was worth this trip.
Crimson ribbons fell from the sides of the gypsy’s mask, arching as she danced around. She had tied back her hair, looking like a bow, and her full dress stopped at her knees. Her white chemise was off the shoulder, falling to her elbows, and little bells jingled along her waist as she moved around with fans. A man joined her with a full demon mask, horns sticking from the top. A scaled tail hovered from the back of his breeches. His gray scales looked like glimmering silver on his naked chest as he threw sticks of white and orange fire in the air. The crowd cheered as he acted like he missed a catch, and the gypsy caught it.
“Wow,” Clara whispered.
Drakonis looked down. Clara was clapping, her bare hands moving to her chin in awe, as the two performers started throwing the fire at each other in elaborate patterns.
To him, it was something entertaining, but unremarkable. Dragons had skin that was tough enough to withstand fire. Magma flowed through their veins. But to see the way Clara was bouncing on her heels was a real treat. Discreetly, Drakonis pressed coins into her hands.
“Why don’t you show your appreciation?” he said. Clara was hesitant at first, then took the two coins and approached the center of the circle, tossing them into a hat. The demon masked man arched around the gypsy, bowing at the waist. Clara mimicked his motion, lifting her skirt to the side. Drakonis growled, his dragon mimicking it through his head as he danced around her. Her hood fell back a little as she skipped around him, making her way back to Drakonis.
“That was so much fun!” she said, grasping the front of his tunic. Drakonis smiled back at her, then looked up with flashing eyes to the performer. A visible gulp bobbed in his naked throat as he returned to the gypsy.
Get her away. The dragon demanded.
You don’t need to tell me. Drakonis answered it. Drakonis led her out of the entertainment to the Main Street.
Children crowded around a stand where other performers were holding a puppet show. High and low-pitched voices came from the colorful creatures. Bright silk tents advertised a fortune teller.
“Discover your life’s match!” One man yelled.
“Learn how you will honor the Great War-Prince Drakonis!” Another yelled. “Slayer of sorcerers and Gargoyles!”
“Maybe you should go,” Clara said with a chuckle. “I can only imagine the looks when they see you.”
“If I go over there, it will be to learn who my life match is,” he answered.
“Interesting that it is not a love match,” Clara answered.
“Mating is more than loving someone,” Drakonis said. “As we talked about in the library, once a dragon meets his true mate, then there is nothing that can tear them apart. Love is a word that pales to the connection that forms between the two.”
“That sounds like my sister and…brother-in-law.”
Rumors of Ragnar finding his mate spread wide amongst the continent. Like all rumors, he assumed they were exaggerated, but if the woman was a fraction of what Clara was, he could see how he became so besotted.
“I’ve heard much about their relationship,” Drakonis said.
“They truly live for each other. I’ve never seen Elly smile so brightly than when she’s with her husband. And he protects everything about her, including herself.” Drakonis was puzzled by what she spoke of. Elisora Nordskov was rumored to kill minotaurs and hydras. Princesses were not warriors, so it was indeed a shock. “I did not believe a love like theirs would exist. I find myself jealous. For I will never find a love that like,” Clara continued.
Drakonis opened his mouth to speak. Was he infatuated with Clara? Immensely so. She was all he thought about. Every day his attraction grew. But was it love? He spoke about dragons and mates, but he did not know what it felt like. The closest he had ever seen to a true mating bond was between his mother and Gavril. His mother was always different with Gavril than she was with his father. They never spoke about it, but Gavril always put his mother’s needs above all others. Gavril relaxed around Yelena. He smiled.
His heart stung a little. He gripped Clara’s hand soaking its warmth. When he was Gavril and his mother he felt like a family.
His mother loved his father, but it was kinship type love. She never spent more time than needed with him.
An adorable roar left Clara’s stomach. “What was that?” Drakonis asked with a laugh.
“I-I heard nothing.” Clara touched her stomach and ducked her head to hide her expression.
“Are you sure there isn’t a monster in your belly?” Drakonis bent down to get a glimpse of her face. She turned her head, but he kept pushing her with a chuckle. This new side of Clara was more adorable than anything he had ever seen. He wanted to keep pulling it out of her; have her beg or whine. If she did that, he could continue to spoil her. A Clara that only he got to see.
Drakonis pulled her towards the food stalls. Thick breaded pastries covered in sugar and grilled meat tempted their nose with sweet and savory spices.
“I’ve never seen foods like this before,” she said, fingers at her lips.
Chefs stewed chunks of firebird in tomato sauce and seasoned on metal rods. Pomegranate and figs were sliced, sugar juice candying the skins, and peppers baked in sweet bread looked better than it smelled. It was less refined than the palace and had twice as much flavor. “We will take one of everything,” Drakonis commanded, laying a golden coin in the merchant’s hand.
“Where shall we eat?” Clara bounced on her heels as she looked around. The crowd was large, and she was the smallest of them all. Off to the side were tables and stools in front of a theatre stage. It would be perfect. “Drakonis! Do you think there will be a performance?” She grasped the arm of his tunic, looking back at the set. Their minds were aligned once more.
“I’m sure they will,” he said. “Would you like to watch?” She nodded. Her hood fell back more, and he lost his breath for a moment. She indeed was most beautiful when she was excited. Her guard was down and everything about her sparkled. Her brown eyes looked as if the sunlight crept in and her copper cheeks were tinged with roses. Warmth built in his chest. His hand crept to her cheek, caressing the side. Her eyes widened, but she did not pull away. Was he finally making progress? Was he no longer the rude prince, but a charming one?
“Your food, my lord.” The platter was full of the kebabs and bread, with candied lotus blossom and the powdery honey pastry, extra items that he missed. “I guarantee your lady will love it,” the merchant said with a wink. Drakonis nodded.
“I-I’m not…”
“I’m sure the sweetness will pale compared to her kiss, but I appreciate it.” The man laughed. Drakonis put his arm around Clara’s waist, pulling her close as his hand was flat against the bottom of the platter. Drakonis chuckled as he felt a pinch at his side.
“Did you have to say something so scandalous?” Clara mumbled.
“Maybe it won’t be false by the end of the festival?” Drakonis said back, giving her his most suave wink.
Perhaps we should make it true now, his dragon hummed.
With time, Drakonis answered.
He could not pull out her chair, but he held her hand, kissing the back of it as she sat at the table. With a soft clack, he set down the plater of food. Clara clapped her hands together under her chin. “It smells so delicious,” she said, her eyes wide as saucers, and she roved the area around. Most sitting spots were taken. Those that had no chairs or stools stood. The stage was not as elaborate as the one at the castle, but he appreciated its simplicity. Dracora blossoms trees were in full bloom of gold and white, setting a beautiful backdrop for the stage. Deep cream curtains were on each side and gray scaled men with dirt on their skin sat at the side with their instruments. “It reminds me so much of home,” Clara said.
Had he not had exemplary hearing, he would not have caught it.
“You have entertainment like this in Oceanus?” Clara shook her head.
“No, in Xenakis.” Her smile was sad, and her eyes had the haze of nostalgia. “My father was a great patron of the arts, especially music. Elly would always play the lyre, and he would play the buzuki. Romanus would dance with me and make things fall in the sky.” Her fingers tore a piece of the sweet pepper bread.
“What did you play?” Drakonis asked.
“I never had an interest in music,” Clara answered. “I spent most of my time with the astrologists. It was a place I never had to worry about touching people. Just me and the stars.”
“Does touching others disgust you?” This was something new to him. Clara never seemed to have an issue when he grabbed her hand or touched her.
“It’s a boring story.” She grabbed a piece of candied lotus and looked up when another stall had a round bellied man advertising his mead. “Would you mind if we got some wine?” she asked.
“Not at all. Stay here.”
Drakonis approached the stall and ordered a couple of goblets. Even though he had stepped away, his eyes never left her. Obsidian hair escaped her hood. Her fingers twiddled the ends as she was absorbing her surroundings. Learning about her was a joy, but her wall told him she wasn’t letting him fully in.
C’mon Drakonis , he said to himself. You have charmed many women. You can do this. Maybe the mead would help weaken her walls.
“What is it about the stars that you loved?” He prodded, sitting back down. He took a bite of the firebird.
“The stories. Father would always tell me epics of explorers and heroes. When I looked at the stars, it was like I was seeing what they were seeing. It became even more enjoyable when I worked with the topographers.”
“You were a mapmaker?” he asked.
“An apprentice.” Clara said. “But I was a source of aid merchants that came through our port. I made compasses to help them navigate land and water using the sun. My foresight would help sailors prepare for bad weather and seasonal conditions.” She touched the side of her head as she tilted it.
“I never would have thought an oracle of the gods enjoyed topography.”
“Father spent a lot of time at sea. When my siblings and I went to visit Caspian, it came in handy.”
Drakonis wanted to press further. Why did she not like touching others? Why did talking about her family bring her simultaneous happiness and sorrow?
“Ladies and gentledragons!” A man with a loose fitting, brightly colored cloth and a mask came up on the stage announcing the play. “In honor of our ancestors, we have prepared something special. We hope you enjoy!”
He took an elaborate bow. Dragons around him cheered. From the corner of his eyes, he saw soldiers blending in. Had they found out that he was not at the castle? He pulled his cloak tighter around his head, sidling closer to Clara; their hips flush and their arms glued together. Clara quirked a brow, and he nudged her to a guard.
“We must blend in,” he whispered in her ear. The blush she had was too cute to resist. He let his lips graze her cheek as he pulled away.
“What do I do? How could we ever defeat such a formidable foe?”
Actors drew her attention back to the stage. A dragon dressed as a gargoyle grabbed the sides of his head, dropping his sword dramatically. Another actor dressed in finery and painted purple scales came out, looking heroic.
“Is that supposed to be King Nordskov?” Clara whispered. Drakonis picked up a piece of candied fig, firmly placing it inside the soft part of the sweetbread.
“I suppose. Open up,” he said.
While Clara was distracted, Drakonis took the treat and placed it between her lush lips. In the middle of chewing, she stiffened, realizing what had just happened. He grinned, eating some himself.
“The ones dressed like gargoyles look so grotesque,” Clara said.
“Yes,” Drakonis answered bitterly. “I must keep my alliance with Ragnar very political. Many here believe, as Kazimir does. Gargoyles are less superior to us. There are many that believe that we should invade Herrlof and conquer the land ourselves.”
“That’s horrible,” she said. Drakonis was empathetic. For him, he just did not want a powerful ally to be burdened, but to Clara, this was family. It was where her beloved sister lived.
“Not to worry. Ragnar would not allow it. Nor will I,” Drakonis assured her.
She nodded. The play continued showing a rendition of the Great War, he and Alastair leading soldiers to victory. Clara laughed and clapped at parts. It was experiences he already had, but if asked, he could not tell if the play was accurate. Her expressions entranced him the whole time. So far, this outing was a success, but what else could he do to lower her walls? The desire to have her look only at him with a radiant smile was growing with every moment.
When she took her last bite, Drakonis grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
“Do you not want to see how the play ends? They are honoring you,” Clara asked.
“If I wanted to have my ass kissed, I would remain at the palace. Do you not want to see the dracora blossoms?”
Clara nodded. He kept her close. The smell of mead and wine was getting more potent as they weaved through the crowds. Drunkards fell over themselves or women. Others were waving their fists, screaming at the fighting rings, or lining up at the bathhouses for relaxation.
Drakonis had snuck out plenty of times with Gavril to these festivals in the past. Even if Gavril had moved up in the ranks, he always stayed true to who he was. It may have been the reason that he was more grounded than Kazimir. He would sit in the dirt and play dice with the other children, or fight with the drunkards, or enjoy food that was not prepared with the finest ingredients. It was those moments that made his people precious. It was that community that he desired, where no one was better than the other.
A memory he once took for granted. Now he was here with a woman that he and his dragon desired.
Clara’s awe was like when he was a child. In so many ways they were different, but she drew him in like no other. She did not care about the colored scales the dragons had, nor societal protocol. Everyone was the same, no matter rank. She was not like the other noblewomen who would scoff at eating street food and watching a play with the common folk.
“What is that?” she asked, pointing.
There were different performers in silken garb. A giant dragon parade puppet in purple and yellow was being set up. Hanging, circular, paper lanterns in different colors were being tied to staff with his family’s emblem on them. Others were dressed like cartoonish gargoyles, while others wore vests with the same royal emblem.
“There will be a parade when the night sky comes.” He looked up. The sun was setting. It would not be long before the stars and moons were out. “I will take you to a good place to watch it.”
Her smile set his body on fire. He took her hand and led her up the mountain.
Dracora blossoms filled his vision as far as he could see, like strings of sun came down to earth. Drakonis lowered his hood, letting the light wind hit his face and run through the loose strands of his hair. Instead of stone, thick green grass grew under his feet. Arborists had made sure that the trees were at their peak. Couples held hands, standing close to one another. Few sat at the base of the trees, sleeping soundly, and others that had blankets out and eating picnics.
Clara peaked over at him, then looked up at the trees. The pink of her cloak stood more vibrant against the gold and white tree blossoms. “Are you not worried that someone will see you?” she asked.
“Nobles wouldn’t dare leave the castle, and the citizenry are waiting for the parade.” He could finally be alone with her. “I’m worried for nothing. My focus is you.”
Clara pushed back her hood as he did. She closed her eyes against the light wind and her chest raised with a deep breath. The sky was turning orange and yellow, adding a glowing outline to her body. The sweat of her skin looked like diamonds. It brought out the sparkles of her eyes when her lids lifted. She looked as beautiful as she did in the library and took his breath away like when she was in the woods.
“Now this reminds me of Oceanus,” Clara said. “We have these coral forests that change colors with currents and mushrooms that breathe fire.”
“Fire below the sea?”
“It’s remarkable! I wish I could show you.”
What would happen after tonight? Would he see this side of Clara again? Until now, Clara had been reserved and has always kept a wall up. She never spoke about her thoughts or feelings.
“May I ask you something?” The words left Drakonis’s lips before he could stop them. “You have been like a different person today. As honored as I am, I wonder what has brought the change?”
Her smile dropped.
Idiot! He thought to himself. He wanted to know, but not at the expense of her smile.
“Has it been disturbing?” Clara asked, her voice a whisper.
“No!” Drakonis grabbed her hand with both of his. “Have I upset you with my question?” Clara shook her head. Her eyes fell to the grass. She pulled away, gliding between trees like a forest nymph. Entranced, he followed.
“I worry my answer may be selfish. I… I’ve been a loner my whole life. My only friends have been my siblings, but even they can be frightened of me.”
How could someone fear such a frail creature?
“When I touch someone’s skin, I cannot control my visions. I can see all that the Moirai, the Fates, have planned for that person. Many pretend that they want to know the future but then become angry if it is something that they do not desire or didn’t expect.” Her hand moved to her forehead. “This eye that I have…I try to hide it. Looking at it only reinforces I am a monster.” Drakonis wanted to interrupt her, but she kept walking. He looped around the other side of trees. “My sister was always the lovely one. Suitors lined up at her door for an opportunity to ask for her hand with flowers and treasures. Even the Gargoyle King fought Poseidon to get her back.
“But me…everyone considers me someone to be frightened of. Men do not want to touch me in fear of me seeing through their pomp. And I do not desire to see their futures. In time, I just stopped seeing myself as Clara and more of just an oracle. A messenger who can see the destinies Moirai have spun. The reason for my existence was solely the Moirai and making sure people’s fates are what they demand.”
Drakonis spun on a tree, touching the back of her hand, and pushing it against the bark of the tree.
“When I touch you, I see nothing but fog,” Clara continued. “When your dragon appears, I see more, but when it is just you, everything is quiet. I saw things when Kazimir touched my hand, and when I touched Gavril. I don’t know if it’s because you are two entities or if there is a mystery about you, but I started becoming comfortable. When you asked me out today, I felt like a plain Xenakian woman. A woman that can be simply Clara. I thought for at least one day, I could enjoy just being myself with you. Silly, is it not?”
Clara tilted her head down, but Drakonis caught her chin. He moved to her cheek, running his thumb over her full lips and chin. Unshed tears glazed her eyes. She was someone pure, and someone that had enchanted him since the first time he saw her. Were they so different? He was a prince and a war hero, but so many never looked past that to truly see him. They were always watching and waiting to see who would win the title of Crown Prince. No one wanted to take the chance that they picked the wrong prince. Clara did not care about who he was, only that she finds the Heir. She had been his sanctuary when he was deep in his despair, and someone he could confide his most foolish thoughts with. She wanted a day that she could be herself, but would she let him give her more?
“It does not have to be limited to just today,” he said. He pulled some of her hair free, letting the wind carry the locks. The sky was darkening. The stars twinkled, turning the gold blossoms to look more like stars. “Anytime you wish to be you, come to me. It may not be street food and plays…” that earned him a laugh. “But we can escape to the skies if we need to.”
Clara stepped closer, her hand hovering over his chest. Where his heart sat. The surrounding florals enhanced her sweet smell.
“That sounds lovely, but…” Her touch caused sparks. She placed her forehead above her hand. Right at his rapid beating heart.
Kiss her, his dragon demanded. His hands twitched from his push to hold her.
“Once I find the Heir both of our lives will change. You are the reason your people still have peace. You are important to this land and to the monarchy. I will have to depart.”
Had she considered staying with him?
“Where will you go?” Drakonis asked, his voice hoarse.
“Where I must. Where the Heir will be safe.”
“And the Heir cannot remain here? He would be the ultimate paragon of what a true dragon is.” If he could get the Heir to ally with him, everything Kazimir wanted would fail. And he could keep Clara. “You have to know my father would not let you just simply escape with the Heir, if he exists.”
“I have seen him. He exists. I have seen the danger that your people with have if he is not prepared.” Clara looked up. Her hand moved to his sternum. He held her there. “I have told you once that I am at the service of the Moirai. That no matter what I choose, nothing will change. I must change the destiny of this world. I must protect my family. My sister. Like I could not do all those years ago in Xenakis. And…”
Drakonis held his breath as Clara reached up towards him. This time, she caressed his cheek, her fingers lingering on the purple scales.
“I want to protect you. My only genuine friend in the world.”
Friend. That word made his blood boil. He stepped closer. With every step he took forward, she took back with wide eyes. Her sweet gasp filled his ears as her back hit the tree. One arm trapped her side and the other above her head.
“And if I do not want to be your friend ?” he emphasized. Clara tongue peaked from her lips, glazing her lips. His hand shot to her chin, his thumb holding her mouth open. Her breath sped up, and her heart was hammering against her breast. She desired to be romanced like any other woman? He would give her that. He would give her anything she desired so she would remain in Ouroboros even after finding the Heir.
And the Heir… he would allow Clara to use him for her bidding, but he would never be close to her. Only he, Drakonis, could.
Drakonis leaned forward. Her lids closed. Her hands balled in his tunic. Their breath mingled as he got closer…
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Clara jumped. Fireworks shot through the sky, bathing the darkness in their vibrant colors.
Clara’s eyes shot open, but it did not stop him. The kiss was not as deep as he wanted, but the touch was enough. Clara’s lips were softer than he imagined. She was stiff at first, but when he went in for the second peck, and the third, she relaxed. Never did she push him away.
“Drakonis…” She whispered.
Something about her changed after the kiss. A tear escaped, but he wouldn’t have it. He would not be her friend. That small kiss made him come to realize what he did want her for. Now he would not be deterred.
Drakonis twirled her, pulling her into the confine of his arms, her back to his chest. He squeezed her as he watched the lit sky above them.
“Why not make a wish?” he whispered in her ear.
“Do you wish upon fireworks?” Clara asked.
“No, but we can pretend that they are falling stars. Just tell me so I can make it come true.” She could think about his actions later, but for now, he wanted to end this night with her just like this.
Clara shook her head, letting out a rare laugh. She leaned back against him.
“You have fulfilled more of my wishes than you know.” She kissed the scales along the ridge of his thumb. “Thank you Drakonis.”