Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
IDALLIA
It’s surely not my best decision, especially with all that dragon’s brew still heating my blood, but after quickly checking on my birds, I leave again without letting Fyrestar’s golden-eyed observation, Rim’s rumpled confusion, or Sol’s sleepy little warble stop me.
It’s a long, steep climb up the stairs to Bale’s lair, especially with brew-heavy legs weighing me down.
Unfortunately for him—and my burning muscles—I’m on a mission to get answers, and I want them now.
The first time I stop to actually consider what I’m doing is when I’m right in front of Bale’s door. I’ve never been here before.
I draw back, my hand poised to knock. After a long pause, I let it fall. I’m troubled, confused, a bit drunk, and intensely attracted to the man on the other side of the door. I should definitely walk back down the stairs.
The door swings open, startling me. Bale stands there, one hand still on the doorknob and the other holding a towel he uses to scrub vigorously at his wet hair.
A fire surges to life inside me. He’s shirtless, his trousers only half tied and riding low on his hips.
The line of dark-red tattoos racing down his left side from his neck to his waist pops out at me as his arm moves to swipe the towel over his hair again, catching more drips.
I stare, stupid with dragon’s brew. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much of his inked-on series of stars, moons, and eclipses before, the straight line broken and puckered where it mixes with the scars over his heart.
“I could hear you breathing behind the door. What’s wrong?” He slings the towel over his shoulder.
My eyes snap to his face, his muscled chest still imprinted on my vision. “How did you know it was me?” He just chuckles, something heating in his expression. When I realize he’s not going to answer, I ask, “Are you alone?”
“I’m always alone.” His gaze slides over me, taking in my flushed skin and revealing clothes.
Nervous, I wet my lips. “Not if you invite me in.”
For a long moment, I don’t think he’ll accept my challenge. His hesitation is so palpable that I start to feel like a fool. But then he steps back, making room for me.
As soon as I’m inside, he shuts the door.
I look around, curious. So, this is where Bale lives—or part of it.
I see a tunnel off to one side that probably leads to a bedroom since there’s no bed in here, and another that must lead to some sort of hot bath, considering the moss and condensation on the tunnel walls.
Here, it’s more of a large study, with bookshelves, a weapons display, tall, mullioned-glass windows, plenty of thick rugs, and a comfortable-looking set of armchairs in front of a roaring fireplace.
I spin on him. “What’s a sunblood?”
He turns away, tossing the towel aside. He reaches for a billowing white shirt draped over the back of one of the chairs and pulls it over his head.
His expression is neutral when he turns back around.
“A sunblood?” I don’t know if his lack of reaction is true confusion or the best evasion I’ve ever seen.
“Don’t lie to me.” The strong brew makes me bolder than usual, and I step forward, poking a finger at him. “They’re not supposed to exist, and yet someone just told me I am one.”
He looks me over more thoroughly, taking in my tight leather pants and corset-like top. His gaze hitches on the now-askew bow at my cleavage, and heat swells in my veins. His eyes flare. Shadows coat his skin. “Where were you tonight?” he growls.
“Out in Drayke with the team.” I shouldn’t feel like I have to justify anything, but more tumbles out. “We popped down to the tavern and back. Nothing special.”
His jaw tight, he scrutinizes me. “You’re the last person I’d expect to be cavorting with vampires right now.”
“I didn’t say he was a vampire,” I answer warily.
“You didn’t say it was a he,” Bale rumbles ominously.
I narrow my eyes. “Why did you automatically assume vampire? What do vampires have to do with sunbloods?”
“I have no idea what a sunblood is.” He sits, waving me toward the other chair in front of the fire.
I swallow. Sitting with Bale in his lair is a whole new level of intimacy. Too bad I’m here to interrogate, not seduce.
Or obviously, it’s for the better.
“Who named me?” I ask.
“Sit,” he snarls.
I sit. “Who fucking named me, Bale?”
“How would I know?” he snaps.
Clenching my teeth, I take in the cavernous space as I inhale a deep, calming breath through my nose. This is a home, not just a room. Except, there’s no roosting wall. But why would there be? Bale gave all the phoenixes to the Elite Wing.
No matter how mad I am, the heat of Bale’s fire soaks into my autumn-chilled skin and feels homey in a way I’ve missed out on all my life.
I almost never light my fireplace, relying on my birds for warmth, and the space in front of the hearth at Glarraden House was just like under the tidy little awning in the rose garden. There wasn’t a chair for me.
I bring my gaze back to him. “You knew what my name meant.”
“So does anyone with any familiarity with Cealastra’s chosen tongue.”
I deflate a little. That makes sense.
Steepling his fingers, he watches me. “Who was the vampire?”
I shrug. “Someone from Fanghaven.” I don’t say who.
For some reason, I think mentioning Rexton Hale might result in fewer answers than I’m already getting.
“He wanted a sip of my blood to confirm what Rannigan Bloodthief is apparently spreading around his court—that the non-dragon shifter of the Elite Wing is some strange creature whose blood tastes like basking in sunshine.”
Bale tenses from head to foot. “Rannigan said that?”
“I guess some of the blood traffickers escaped the battle at Draywood and ran back to the Vampire King with tales of my blood smelling like everything a vampire wants but can never have. Apparently, smell goes with taste. Now Rannigan wants me.”
Bale stares at me in shock. There’s no faking that. “Bloodpit,” he finally growls.
I sigh loudly. “My thoughts exactly.”
His features darken with fury. Suddenly, he’s in front of me before I even see him move. He grabs my nape with one hand, tilts my chin up with the other, and rips the leather choker off. “Did he bite you?”
I gasp, my pulse racing under Bale’s hand. His heat washes over me, and his grip feels like fire branding my skin. “Of course he didn’t bite me. I said no.”
He slowly releases me and backs away, standing in front of the hearth. “Fanghaven. Good.”
I shiver now that Bale isn’t touching me anymore, and his body blocks some of the heat and light from the fire. “They have a code,” I say hoarsely. “They could be allies.”
“There’s no one to ally with.” He slides my choker into his pocket. My belly clenches as I watch his now-empty hand press against the slight bulge of the stolen necklace. Heat washes through me.
“What about the pretender king?” I ask, trying to focus on what’s important—and get some answers. “Would he be so bad?”
“He doesn’t have the magic in his blood to keep, hold, and protect a kingdom.”
“Neither does the new Fae Queen, and she’s starborn.”
“She’s young. Her parents were killed in that earthquake, and she came along so late in their lives that magic was already waning.
Look at the result. She’s weak.” Bale spears a hand through his hair and sits again.
“All any fae noble wants to do now is get her pregnant so their bloodline produces the next legitimate heir.”
“Would they kill her as soon as an heir appeared?”
Bale huffs. “Possibly.”
“So, you can make your shadow dragon solid, be part man and part beast, and create phoenixes from torn-up scales because you’re from a starborn bloodline, and you were born while magic was still strong?”
Bale turns a dark look on me. “Are you calling me old?”
“You are old.” I move my booted feet toward the fire. “And I’m a sunblood.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I might…if you’d tell me what it is.”
“Why would you believe what some vampire said? Who is this man?”
“Someone from Fanghaven,” I remind him. “Pay attention, Your Royal Forgetfulness.”
His jaw ticks. “You’ve obviously been drinking, and I’m patient.” I snort, and he adds, “But not without my limits.”
“Well, what are you going to do to me, Bale Cinderheart?” I lean back in the armchair, closing my eyes.
The warmth of the fire makes my limbs even heavier, and my head still spins.
“Ten days in the dungeon for insubordination?” When he doesn’t answer, I finally open my eyes.
Bale is staring at me, and he’s so close that I can see the yellow and russet pigments illuminating his amber eyes.
I don’t move, staring back at him. I know we’re mostly arguing, but longing still sinks through me like a wish on a star, desire mixed with feeling safe and warm and seen.
How can I have utter confidence in a man I suspect is lying to me?
I can’t reconcile my own feelings, and I’m too tipsy and tired to try.
“The right time will come to ally with Fanghaven,” he finally says. “You’ll see.”
“Will I?” I smile without humor. “If I live that long. Didn’t you hear? Rannigan and his goons are after me.”
Bale’s fists clench in his lap, the fingers of one hand tightening over the pocketed necklace. For all I know, my hair is also in that pocket. Dragon shifters are hoarders, and when Kellan was falling in love with me, he kept things too.
Despite my heavy lids, my eyes widen and my heart thuds in my chest. I know things are changing, but falling in love?
Half standing, his face a thunderstorm, Bale leans forward and places big, heavy hands on the arms of my chair. “They touch you. They die.”
I gaze into his burning stare, a riptide of emotion dragging a heated shiver up from deep inside. If I’d had one more dragon’s brew at the tavern, I’d stretch up and kiss him. Fortunately, I’m not that drunk. “Good luck keeping a sunblood alive.”
He doesn’t move, so close his breath stirs my hair. “Don’t buy into everything you hear.”
“The source was pretty good.” I shrug.
A muscle pinches near his eye. “Who?”
I bite my tongue. “I just meant he looked reputable.”
Bale stops pressing and slowly sits back in his chair. He wants answers from me but won’t give any himself, so I slough off my guilt at keeping secrets from him.
He’s quiet for so long that I get sleepy, the pleasant crackle of the fire and the heat of the blaze relaxing me.
I finally curl up, pulling my feet under me, and shut my eyes.
The brightness of the flames still dances behind my closed lids.
The warmth feels amazing. Or maybe that’s Bale’s inner heat, seeping into my bones.
“Idallia?” he rumbles.
I wish he’d called me Sunshine. “Mmm?” The fire is lovely, the room safe and warm. I still like my quarters better. My birds are there. There’s the roosting wall.
“Don’t fall asleep here.”
“Why not?” I murmur. “You have plenty of room.”
“I don’t usually have…guests.” His words trail away, the loneliness in his voice definitely not my imagination.
“Not really a surprise. Your lair is at the tippy top of the mountain and about a million steps up.”
He clears his throat. “If you stay here, I’ll…”
It takes effort, but I crack open my eyes. “You’ll what?”
The way he stares at me wakes my whole body up like embers popping to life in the hearth. He finally drags in a breath that lifts his chest. “I’ll go somewhere else.”
Disappointment is the worst weight on a heart, and I don’t even know what I was expecting. I’m not supposed to want anything.
Sighing, I force myself out of the comfortable chair and move toward the door. “Cealastra forbid the Dragon King leaves his lair. Have fun all alone,” I toss over my shoulder, stumbling a little as I reach for the doorknob.