Chapter Twelve
Ghreid
They sat in his cellar, staring at the leaden casket. With a careful application of heat over a dragon’s claw, Lapryda slit the seal around the casket, picking it apart to open with a hiss of stale air, inundated with fragrant herbs.
Not that Ghreid expected to see the cloth first, but the first thing he saw when opening the cask was a fold of paper piled with lavender and cypress to keep any gnawing pests and rot away.
Lapryda nodded in approval as he settled the lid to the side and gently lifted the cloth one corner at a time to separate it from the contents.
A layer of linen lay beneath that, gauzy and fine.
That too slipped away as Lapryda leaned over the first of the silks.
“Goodness…” Lapryda pulled away and threw the cloth back over the pile before glancing around anxiously. “I need a clean bedsheet and to wash my hands.”
Ghreid fetched the bedsheet as requested and Lapryda returned, hands scrubbed nearly raw as he pulled the cloth away once more and stared at a roll of silk with such a fine sheen to it that the violent purple of it reflected other colors, purple a sea of violet and blue, a shimmer like magic that had nothing to do with the skill of power, and everything to do with the skill of a master.
“Magnificent,” Lapryda said, nails tracing the fine sheen of it. “Worth its weight in our gold. Finest Draynarian silk.”
Ghreid rumbled appreciatively. Value. His mate had brought it. “An entire casket of it.”
Lapryda lifted the roll and moved it onto the bedsheet, admiring the fine quality, the way it draped.
And another, he withdrew: a glimmering gold, a royal blue, an emerald green, a magenta-hued wonder, and one as blue as the sky.
And the last, he reached in to remove the last bolt, a beautiful black that had unwound in transit.
He dropped the silk and jerked back with a sharp gasp. “Fuck!”
Ghreid leaned over and his heart stopped. A swath of cloth separated the silks from something beneath the rolls, pulled away at the edge to reveal a soft-faced young male, deep in a dragon’s sleep. “By the gods…”
Lapryda leaned back in and reached for his neck, feeling for a pulse, and waited several long minutes before drawing his hand back with a gentle nod. “He’s a sleeper.”
“Is that a dead man in my silks?” Varis stared at the young male.
Ghreid took him in, round-faced and sweet, his lips a pout of pale pink, cheeks finely freckled and a mop of boyish blond hair.
He appeared gaunt, like most sleepers did, but had a frame like one who should have been plump, built for size—as some might say.
And to make things stranger, he didn’t have a breath of Draconic features.
No scales, no nails, or horns. No adornments or spiced scent.
Lapryda apologized in almost a prayer and leaned in to lift the sleeper’s eyelid—white sclera.
And with a shaking hand, he tugged the male’s shirt collar and sleeves about until he spied the sign he sought—An ashen.
“He’s never met his mate.” Lapryda used his magic, feeling over the boy with a frown. “He’s been asleep for a little over two years.”
“Best he be moved to the catacombs…” Ghreid stared the boy down and took a cloth to cover him once more. “He looks Rammolian.”
“He’s ashen, so he is ours.” Lapryda placed a hand over the boy’s face through the fabric and nodded. “He’s adorable, in a soft sort of way.”
“Is he yours?” Ghreid stared at the casket.
Lapryda shook his head. “No. I feel nothing. Kinship, almost. Perhaps he belongs to Slath or Envi.”
“Time will tell.” Ghreid tore his gaze away and stared at his shocked mate. “Do not worry, love. Some dragons choose to hibernate in times of need. He is alive and waiting for his purpose. A dragon lives only as long as they need to.”
“And how long is that, usually?” Varis’s gaze didn’t turn back to Ghreid until he reached over and tilted Varis’s chin toward him.
“As long as we both are needed. And not a day sooner. There are those that are hundreds who’ve never slept, and those like my parents, who find sleep sooner. But with us finding our mates, I assume my parents will wake sooner than later.”
Lapryda glanced up, half listening. “I’ll have him taken to the capital right away, but, Brothers, we need to speak to King Reigh of Monsmount.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Ghreid took Varis’s hand and leaned to give him a soft kiss. “Come with us, my mate. We’ll present your findings.”
They bundled up the silks and ordered guards to watch the body traveling to their wyverns with the silk wrapped in much lighter oilcloth and linen to protect it.
“Do not fly too high above the rooftops. Silk can be ruined if it gets wet.” Lapryda mounted his porcelain beauty of a wyvern, Diamond. The vain creature preened as Varis stared at Platinum with unease.
“Come, I’ll hold you.” Ghreid climbed onto his saddle and reached a hand out to Varis.
“Can you not fly us?” Varis glanced at the sky, his face a mask of unease, lips pulled into a thin line that slanted on his face in an unpleasant way, the crease at the corner of his lip begging for Ghreid to lean over and rub at the spot with his thumb to iron out the line.
“I could. But this way is more efficient.” Ghreid cupped his hand and pulled when Varis reached up. There, hoisted into Ghreid’s lap, he settled down, and Lapryda secured his load, face hard set into concerning lines.
With barely a click of his tongue, Lapryda was off and Ghreid flew in tow, gripping onto his mate for dear life.
Above the port city, the world belonged to Ghreid, just him and his mate. Flight terrified the poor male, his heart fluttering against Ghreid’s chest through his back, but that hammer of fear pounded into something more primal as they gained altitude.
Ghreid leaned over Varis’s shoulder as the rapid racing of his heart translated into something shared, arousal flitting at Ghreid’s senses.
He couldn’t quite place a finger on what it was, a whisper in the air, a sweet scent that grasped him by the belly, or a pulse like static.
All the signs, however, pointed, well… Up.
Ghreid rolled his palm over Varis’s hip, inching fingers toward the strained tautness of Varis’s trousers.
A whisper left Ghreid’s lips, dancing over his mate’s ear.
“Would you object to me spoiling you a bit, my mate?”
Varis’s breath caught in his throat. A strangled noise cracked as another voice replied.
“I would very much object, Brothers!” Lapryda huffed and leaned into his seat, knees shifting as Diamond added their own sniff of displeasure. Barring anything else, he jettisoned off far ahead of them. “Degenerates!”
And for the second time in so few hours, Ghreid failed to make Varis come.