Chapter 36 #2
“As you should be.” She sighed. “Alsen, I sat here for hours last night while you were comatose in that chair. I couldn’t wake you.
I couldn’t determine if you were in medical distress or simply having a wonderful time in whatever spiritual dimension you’d launched yourself into.
I ran three different diagnostic scans on you before I determined your vitals were stable enough to leave you alone. ”
That stung harder than the arm. “You did that?”
“Of course I did. What did you think I would do? Go to sleep while you sat there not breathing at a normal rate with a mystery drug in your system?” She turned away, walking to the washbasin.
She splashed water on her face with a controlled violence.
“I understand the Pellicle research matters to you. I don’t understand it, but I accept it matters.
What I don’t accept is you treating my healing work as something you can just throw away whenever you feel like experimenting. ”
The argument hit home because she was right. He had been so eager to attempt the dreamwalk that the arm hadn’t even entered his reasoning.
He could have used the table to make a line like a normal person. He rubbed his face with his right palm. “You’re right. That was thoughtless.”
“You didn’t think.”
“I didn’t think about the precise delivery method,” he corrected, gently. “The dreamwalk itself was a success. I reached the Pellicle, though only for a short moment.”
Arleria dried her face with a cloth, her back to him.
Her shoulders carried a tension that had nothing to do with the morning’s discovery and everything to do with the accumulation of moments like the last night.
Times when Alsen did things she couldn’t control, couldn’t help with, and could only await the aftermath of.
She turned back. “If you do this again, you tell me beforehand. Not as a courtesy. As a condition.”
“Agreed.”
“And I want to examine the compounds first. Both pouches. If something in there interacts badly with the healing matrix, I need to know before you inhale it into an open wound.”
“That’s fair.”
“It’s the minimum.” She exhaled, the sharpness in her voice softening by a fraction. Not much. Enough for him to recognize that the worst of it had passed. “I’m going to the market. I need components for the next treatment session, and I need to not be in this room for a while.”
“Understood.”
She gathered her things. Coin purse, a leather satchel for components, a light shawl against the morning air. She paused at the door.
“The arm stays in the sling today,” she said. “No exceptions.”
“No exceptions.”
She left. The door clicked shut behind her, and the apartment settled into silence.
Alsen sat for a moment, letting the quiet wash over him. The arm throbbed. The headache pulsed. The afternoon light made both worse.
But she was gone, and the window of time was uncertain.
He pulled his awareness inward, then pushed it outward in a scan. The spell rolled out from him in a wave, spreading across Vellhorn in expanding rings. It cost him almost nothing anymore, barely a whisper of mana.
He found the target half a town away. Luna sat in a room at an inn in the most expensive part of the city.
Interesting.
But that wasn’t close. He could walk there, but the throbbing arm didn’t make that feel like a good idea.
He got up, drank a glass of water, and opened a window wide. No sign of Arleria anywhere nearby.
Fly.
He flew out through the window, climbing above the rooftops on a current of mana.
The afternoon air hit him, warm and smelling of the food cooked in the streets below.
Vellhorn spread beneath him, a mess of rooftops and crooked streets that he’d grown oddly fond of.
In the distance, Verathras’s crimson bulk lay across his golden hills, the permanent landmark against which the entire city oriented itself.
A woman hanging laundry on a rooftop balcony looked up. Her eyes went wide. She dropped a shirt.
A cart driver in the street below pointed skyward, then said something to the man beside him. Both stopped to stare.
A child waved.
Alsen flew on, deciding on a reasonably fast pace. Fast enough to get there, slow enough to not smash into a house.
He descended at the Diamond Tree Inn, landing in the narrow alley beside it with less grace than usual. His left foot caught a crate. The crate protested. A cat that had been sleeping on the crate protested louder.
He walked in.
Inside, he passed through the common room without drawing significant attention. The Diamond Tree catered to clientele who considered staring impolite. A man in expensive-looking attire glanced at him, noted the sling, and returned to his late lunch without comment.
Luna’s room was on the upper floor. He could feel her through the door. He tried the handle.
Unlocked.
As usual. The apex predator didn’t need to lock the door.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
The room was impressive by Vellhorn’s standards. Spacious, furnished with carved wood and actual upholstered chairs. A shallow pool sat in the corner, the water still and reflective. Afternoon light made it gorgeous.
Luna lay on the bed, which was easily the most extravagant piece of furniture he’d seen in this world.
Broad enough for three, piled with pillows, sheets aggressively white.
She lay on her stomach, arms folded under her head, her face turned toward the window.
The sheets covered her from the waist down.
Above the waist, she wore only a leather bra, the smooth line of her back exposed, her chestnut hair spilling across the pillow in a way that looked careless and probably wasn’t.
A table sat beside the bed. On it, a pile of parchments lay stacked in a neat column. A pot of ink and two quills sat beside them, along with a few loose sheets that had been set aside to dry. Writing materials.
He glanced at the stack. The top parchment lay face-down. The ones beside it were folded in a specific way, each identical, as if she’d been producing copies of the same message.
“Really?” Luna asked, smirking at him. “You find me almost naked in bed, ready for you, and you focus on parchments?”
He thought she was asleep. Her eyes were open, clear, and entirely free of the grogginess that should accompany waking up.
She hadn’t been asleep at all.
“Apologies.” He walked to the bed’s side, and sat on it. “Thanks a lot for last night’s delivery.”
“Did it work?”
“Yes. I reached the Pellicle, spending the entire night passed out. Arleria was as delighted as you can imagine.”
“Double success, then.” She giggled. “Surprised you came to see me after that. Don’t tell me you broke up.”
They weren’t together. Well, officially, anyway. His cheeks slightly flushed. “That’s irrelevant now. What’s important is that I need to talk to you.”
“Okay.” She brightened up. “Tell me about the Pellicle.”
“Not about that. You see, I did actually go to the audience with Verathras. And he had the drakes there. They complained. Extensively, especially Xiir. That’s the one you rode.”
Luna chuckled. “Oh, I’ll give him something to complain about the next time I see him.”
“About that, Verathras insisted that you need to be punished for your crimes against the dignity of dragonkind.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, but I’ve managed to play it so that I promised I’d make sure you get appropriately punished for the crimes, and they’d be fine with that.”
Luna’s face slowly transformed. Her gaze sharpened, her mouth twitched, involuntarily spreading into a grin. She sat up, raising her chin. “Oh, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry to hear that. But we can’t leave a promise to his draconic majesty unfulfilled.”
He paused. That was not the reaction he expected.
“Luckily,” she continued, “I am willing to help you properly punish me, so that the dragon is satisfied and doesn’t eat you for a snack. I know just the correct way to go about it.”
This took a turn he hadn’t anticipated. He knew already where this was going, but he couldn’t stop it. He literally walked into it.
“The only proper way to punish me is through rough sex.” Her grin widened. “Punishingly rough sex.”
He closed his eyes, rubbing his face with his palm. “Can you take this seriously?”
“I am taking it seriously. I’ve been disrespectful, unruly, and so the correction of my behavior has to be strict and thorough.
” She was vibrating with the energy of someone who had just been handed a gift she hadn’t even known to ask for.
“Very thorough. It can’t just be one session.
We need to plan this, daily punishment sessions, for at least a week. ”
He sighed. “Never mind.”
“Oh, no, I very much mind. I’m solving your diplomatic problem.
You promised the dragon. You can’t wriggle out of that with a slap on the wrist and a stern talking-to.
” She grabbed his right hand, pressing it flat against her collarbone with both her hands.
“This is a serious matter requiring an extensive punishment.”
“Luna, forget it.”
“No.” She met his eyes, and behind the grin, behind the provocative posture and the theatrical delivery, something real looked back at him.
“If you don’t deliver on the punishment, I will go to the dragon myself and personally complain.
I’ll describe, in detail, exactly how lenient you’ve been with me, and I will mount that drake in the process, maybe kick him a few times too, as I talk. ”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
Yeah, well, damn it. She would. She totally would do that. That was a problem.
She released his hand and shifted back, settling into a cross-legged position that somehow managed to be both casual and predatory.
“Here’s what I’m thinking. I’ll prepare a full schedule.
Mornings or evenings or both, however it suits your schedule.
I’ll prepare an entire menu, and you can pick what type of session you want to go through every time.
Don’t worry, I’ll get all the necessary tools. ”
“Tools?”