Chapter 8 #3
Fel growled again. This time, it wasn’t directed at Vorik.
“And very capable.” Syla stepped forward, plucked the keys from the corporal, then shooed him toward the door.
“Your Majesty,” the soldier protested without moving. “This is highly unorthodox. And dangerous.”
“It’ll be fine, Corporal.” Syla walked to the table and picked up a dragonspark match resting in the holder with one of the odious green Candles of Serenity.
What a ridiculous name. Candles of Knock You on Your Ass was what they should have been named.
The soldier looked like he would protest further, but a major stepped into the doorway and cleared his throat. “Come out, men. You won’t want to stay in there once that’s lit. Not unless you’d like to take a nap.” He gave Vorik a pointed look.
“I like naps,” someone whispered, sounding wistful.
Under the major’s eye, the soldiers trooped out, though many frowned back with concern, looking between Syla and Vorik.
“You’ll want to wait in the corridor too, Fel.
And don’t stand too close to the door. The vapors of the candle may waft out through the gap.
” Syla waved toward the bottom of the door.
“I’ll yell if anything goes awry, but I have all the tools I need to question Vorik.
” She pointed to the jars, candles, and was that her medical kit on the desk as well?
“That I don’t doubt,” Fel said, not moving.
“You question if I’ll use them?”
“On someone you have feelings for, yes.” People said curse words with less loathing.
Syla hesitated, but then used the match to light the candle. “I’ll put the good of the Kingdom ahead of my feelings.”
Vorik grimaced. She sounded sincere.
Fel also grimaced, but then grunted and turned to leave.
“I like naps too,” he grumbled, but he stepped out and closed the door.
Syla locked it after him, then returned to the desk, the first hint of eucalyptus and another pungent scent mingling in the air. Last time, it had taken Vorik some time to pass out, but the cave had been much better ventilated than a cabin with the door and portholes closed.
He eyed her with wariness but a part of him remembered what had happened the last time those scents hung in the air.
Long before he’d passed out, they’d enjoyed magnificent sex.
And now… they were alone again. She stood before him with her lush auburn hair around her shoulders, drawing the eye toward her chest, especially the curve of her breasts under a dress that hugged her body in a most appealing manner.
Snug over her hips, it trailed down past her knees, but it would be easy enough to lift her hem to see more of her legs, to let his hand slide along her smooth thigh, relishing in the soft warmth of her skin…
Vorik swallowed and lifted his eyes toward the ceiling, trying to tamp down his arousal. Even if seduction had crossed his mind, it was foolish to think of sex with someone about to drug him.
But it wasn’t just someone, he admitted. It was Syla. And he always longed for her. Even when he shouldn’t.
Unaware of his thoughts—or how sexy he found her—she sat down at the desk. For a long moment, she studied his face before shaking her head and surprising him by snuffing out the candle.
“You’re not going to knock me out?” Vorik asked.
“I should, but no.”
“That was… a ruse to get rid of your men?”
“Fel especially, yes.”
“So we can enjoy a private and exquisitely pleasurable sexual encounter?” Vorik doubted she had that on her mind, but his groin tightened anyway, excited by the possibility.
Once more, the word seduction floated through his mind, and a surge of desire almost made him draw upon his power to break his shackles again so that he could spring to her and carry her to the bed.
Her gaze slid to the jars on the desk, especially the small blue one that likely held the hydra-scale powder. She hadn’t said yet that it was a ruse. Was it something Vorik had to ingest? Or a substance she could blow into the air that he might inhale?
Had Vorik envisioned it being used on him, he would have asked Jhiton—or maybe the tribe healer—for more details. But how could he have known that Syla had also recovered some from the laboratory?
“My advisors believe wholeheartedly that I should question you,” Syla said, following his gaze, “under the influence of hydra-scale powder. We know you won’t otherwise betray your people.”
“Your advisors? Your aunt or your bodyguard?” Vorik tilted his head toward the corridor, though he’d caught the gist of their conversation—their advisement.
“They’re in rare agreement on this matter.
” Instead of grabbing the jar of powder, Syla removed her spectacles, set them on the table, and rubbed her eyes.
“I admit it crossed my mind independent of them. I proposed it, in fact. And I’m…
torn, Vorik. I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me where the shielder components are?
It’s not like they rightfully belong to your people. ”
“Since they were all foraged from the wilds, they don’t rightfully belong to anyone, do they?” Vorik asked, though he did feel like he’d stolen them. Without Syla, he wouldn’t have been able to acquire any of them.
Surprisingly, she didn’t argue that, merely sighing again and leaning back in the chair.
Weary? Emotionally wrought? The responsibility of protecting her people had to weigh heavily upon her shoulders.
If she didn’t question him and get the information she sought, would she feel she’d failed her kingdom?
Even though she’d attacked Vorik’s people—attacked and killed some of them—with the weapons platform, he struggled to think of her as a true enemy. He longed to walk over and rub her shoulders, to lend her his support. How could someone so powerful look so vulnerable and… appealing?
It would be so easy to take her in his arms, to kiss her and more. He tried to remind himself that he not only couldn’t allow himself to be questioned but he needed to kidnap her. How he would do that with her dragon perched on the wheelhouse above them, he didn’t know.
Have you figured out a way to lure Wreylith away from this ship, Agrevlari? Vorik asked, trusting his dragon remained within telepathic range.
Is that supposed to be my goal? I’ve simply been trying to entice her to hunt with me. Or accept an offering of meat.
If you could do those things about five miles inland, that would be great.
She’s not proved amenable to my suggestions, thus far. It’s possible she even suspects me of working with you to try to trick her into leaving.
I can’t imagine where she’d get that idea. Let me know if you do get her to go off with you for a romantic interlude.
Should I succeed at that, I’ll be too distracted by my ardor to discuss the matter with you, but you ought to be able to sense when she leaves. Her aura of magnificence is difficult to miss when she’s nearby, and her absence leaves a gaping emptiness in the world.
Yeah, I’ve observed that about her too.
Syla put her spectacles back on.
“Are you going to question me under the influence of that drug?” Vorik waved at the jar.
“If I were, I would have had to put it into a fruity dessert to convince you to consume it.”
“I wondered if it was something that has to be ingested.”
She shrugged. “It has to get into the bloodstream and eventually pass into the brain somehow.”
“As a good captive on the lookout for ways to escape, I shouldn’t wish that you had brought me a fruity dessert.”
“Probably not.”
“I am disappointed, however. I was recently discussing blackberry cobblers with my brother.”
Syla gazed at him. “How recently?”
Vorik opened his mouth but paused, realizing she probably didn’t know that Jhiton’s link with Ozlemar had given him the power to speak telepathically across many miles to other humans. Vorik could only speak telepathically to Agrevlari and other dragons if they were nearby.
“I don’t recall,” Vorik said.
“In your cell? Did he reach out to you through Agrevlari? I know your dragon is close enough to flirt with Wreylith.”
“Agrevlari is here to rescue me if an opportunity arises.” Vorik wasn’t giving anything away with that statement—she’d already guessed as much—and wanted to deter her from musing upon Jhiton’s magical abilities.
“Unless he succeeds in wooing Wreylith?”
“Well, naturally that would take precedence over my welfare.”
“Naturally.” Syla joined him in a smile.
Ah, that smile. So beautiful. The desire to offer her a shoulder rub returned.
“Is your general angry that you stepped in front of Captain Lesva and protected me?” Syla asked.
“Jhiton is rarely angry. Lesva is pissed. Not just at me. You killed her dragon.” Again, he didn’t think he was telling Syla anything she didn’t know, but he second-guessed himself.
He shouldn’t say anything at all on these matters.
But it was so easy to speak with Syla, to answer her questions.
Maybe he needed to distract her from asking them.
“She was trying to kill me at the time,” Syla pointed out. “Your people have invaded the Kingdom that I’m blood-bound to protect.”
She was right—and he wouldn’t argue with her on the matter—but a hint of doubt entered her eyes. Probably because she was a healer and conflicted about using that weapons platform to kill. He’d come to know her well enough to believe that guess correct.
“I understand,” he said quietly. “But you’ll want to watch the sky above even more assiduously than before if she’s around.”
“The sky? She came out of the water like a sea serpent.”
“The oceans are dangerous too. You’ll also want to watch them.”
“I need to watch everything.”
She looked toward the door, and he wondered if her own people were still after her. Did assassins lurk among the uniformed men on the ship? He wouldn’t be surprised. Syla being crowned probably hadn’t done anything to squelch the ambitions of others who sought the throne for themselves.