Chapter 59 Theron
THERON
By the time the King’s City comes into view, my chest feels like it’s full of broken glass.
My Drake has been quiet for most of the flight, which is unusual. Normally he’s all restless energy and possessive instincts whenever Elowen is on his back. He likes feeling her weight settled between my spines—likes the warmth of her thighs against my scales and knowing she’s holding on to us.
But today he’s quiet.
The city rises out of the plain like something from a story—high stone walls glowing gold in the late afternoon light with towers and domes beyond them and banners flying from the battlements in crimson and silver.
Even from this distance I can hear the low hum of life inside the walls—the sound carrying faintly on the wind.
Horses…carts…people…market cries—a hundred thousand ordinary sounds of everyday life…
the kind of things I never thought much about before I met Elowen.
Now every sight and sound feels sharpened somehow, edged with the knowledge that all of this—the city, the court, the spell—means I’m about to lose her.
Again, my Drake growls low in my mind.
“We must not lose her—we must keep her with us!”
I don’t answer him. There’s no point in trying to explain yet again that Elowen is her own person with her own life that she wants to get back to.
Instead I angle down toward the outer fields beyond the city, keeping away from the walls until I find a stand of scrubby trees near a dry creek bed where I can land without drawing too much attention.
The sun is lowering in the sky, staining everything amber and red.
Dust rises in little puffs as my Drake’s claws strike the ground, and I crouch low so Elowen can climb off.
She slides down carefully, one hand braced on my Drake’s shoulder, and I feel the light pressure of her fingers all the way through me. Gods. Even now, after everything, that little touch is enough to make my Drake want to turn his head and nudge into her palm like some giant fucking cat.
Instead of letting him, I Shift.
The change comes easier these days—too easy, maybe. Ever since the partial bond formed between us, my Drake is always there—always close to the surface. I can feel him resisting me as I pull back into my human skin, resentful that we’re giving up wings and claws and fire.
When the change is done, I straighten and roll my shoulders. Elowen is already fixing her robe, smoothing the wrinkles as best she can. It’s still white, but not temple-white anymore. The roads and the river and the wastelands have all left their marks on it. So has life, I guess.
Her eyes lift to mine and for a moment we just stand there. There’s something different between us now and we both know it. She can feel it—I can tell.
The Bond isn’t complete, but it’s there…
a thin, shining thread strung between us.
Something low and constant humming in my chest that tugs me toward her every damn time she moves.
I can’t stop noticing where she is in relation to me…
can’t stop tracking her scent…her breathing… the little shifts in her mood.
And now that her eyes are green…
Fuck.
The sight of them still hits me harder than a hammer hitting an anvil.
They’re beautiful—too beautiful. Rich emerald instead of innocent sky-blue, and every time I look into them I’m reminded of what I did…of how good it felt.
Of how badly I failed her.
She drops her gaze first and I clear my throat.
“We’d better walk,” I say. “Less attention that way.”
In the past she might have joked that yes, arriving in the middle of the King’s City on the back of a huge silver dragon might attract a bit of notice but now she says nothing. She only nods silently and falls into step beside me.
The outer road to the city is crowded with people still trying to get in before full dark—farmers with carts, merchants leading pack animals, travelers on foot with bundles strapped to their backs. Nobody pays us much mind at first. Why would they? We’re just one more pair among many.
Still, I keep close to Elowen—closer than I probably need to. Every time someone brushes too near her, my shoulders tense. Every time I hear a man laugh too loudly behind us, I glance back.
“Mine,” my Drake says again, and I feel his possessive desire spiking. He doesn’t like having Elowen out in a crowd either. He advances the idea that we ought to just find someplace safe to keep her with us forever.
“Shut up,” I mutter under my breath.
“What?” Elowen asks, frowning.
“Nothing.” I drag a hand over my horns. “Just…talking to myself.”
“That’s usually a sign of stress,” she says, clearly trying for lightness.
I huff a rough laugh, but there’s not much humor in it.
“You think? We’re about to invade the King’s Court so you can do a complicated magic spell taken from the Forbidden Grimoire. What’s stressful about that?”
Elowen laughs at my joke, but I’m not sure the humor reaches her eyes. She’s worried about this last leg of our journey together too and I don’t blame her. Even if the spell has nothing to do with the King, it’s still nerve wracking to think of going to his court to do it.
By the time we reach the city gates, the line to get in has thinned.
Torches have been lit in iron brackets on either side of the broad archway, their flames snapping in the evening breeze.
The gates themselves are thick oak bound in iron, tall enough that my Drake could probably walk through them without ducking too much. Probably.
The King’s Guards are standing watch in polished mail and crimson cloaks, spears in hand and swords at their hips. They’re letting people in two at a time now, checking faces more than baggage. I don’t like the way their eyes move over Elowen the moment they see her.
I like it even less when one of them smirks.
“Well now,” he drawls, looking her up and down in a way that makes my fingers curl into fists. “What have we here? Pretty little green-eyed stray. Lose your husband somewhere, slut?”
I don’t think before I move. One second I’m standing beside her and the next I’ve got the bastard by the throat, driving him backward so hard he slams into the stone wall of the gate with enough force to rattle his teeth.
His spear goes clattering to the ground.
The other guards shout, hands going to their weapons, but I’m faster and meaner and so full of rage I can barely see straight.
“Don’t you fucking ever say that to my woman!” I snarl, tightening my grip until his boots scrape uselessly against the stones. “I’ll fucking kill you if you do!”
His face goes red, then pale. His eyes widen as he gets a good look at me—at my horns and my eyes and the glow starting under my skin—at the fact that I’m about half a second away from letting my Drake come out and roast him alive.
The other guards clearly want to go to their comrade’s aid, but they hesitate, their eyes wide as they stare at me.
Good—they should be afraid.
One of them lifts his hands a little.
“Easy, sir Drake. Easy—we meant no offense. We didn’t know she was with you.”
“No offense?” I spit the words at him and slam the first guard against the wall again for good measure. “He called her a slut.”
Elowen is standing a few feet away, frozen, her hands clenched in the fabric of her robe. Her green eyes are wide with shock.
“Theron,” she says quietly. “Please don’t.”
But I’m too far gone for calm.
“You,” I growl at the guard in my hand. “Get on your knees and beg her forgiveness.”
He stares at me in disbelief, but I tighten my grip.
“Do it… Fucking now,” I growl.
That does it. He nods frantically and I let him drop. He stumbles, coughs, then goes down to both knees in the dirt right there under the gate arch.
“My lady,” he gasps, not daring to look at me. “I beg your forgiveness. I spoke wrongly.”
I want more groveling, but Elowen speaks before I can demand more.
“All right,” she says. “That’s enough.”
Her voice cuts through my rage like cold water. I turn to look at her and see the way she’s holding herself—too still, too careful. I can see the emotions rushing over her pretty face—she’s embarrassed…hurt…shaken.
Fuck.
I step back from the kneeling guard and force myself to unclench my fists. The other guards don’t move. They’re watching me like I might Shift right there in the gateway and tear them all apart and I fucking well might!
At last one of them clears his throat.
“You may pass, Sir Drake” he says stiffly. “As long as you do not commit violence in the King’s City.”
I don’t thank him or make any promises. I take Elowen by the hand and lead her through the gates before another idiot opens his mouth.
The city beyond is all noise and lantern-light and stone streets still warm from the day’s heat. We’ve barely gone twenty paces before Elowen pulls gently against my hold.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says in a low voice.
I stop and turn to her.
“Didn’t I? He fucking insulted you!” I snarl. I’m still fucking angry.
“He was right,” she says, her voice dropping even lower. “To call me that, I mean. He wasn’t lying. My eyes are green, and I wear no rings or marks of marriage.”
Her soft words hit me harder than I expected. For a second I just stare at her…then I know what I have to do. I changed her eyes—I made her vulnerable to the kind of insult the guard tossed at her as casually as he might toss scraps to a stray dog.
I have to fix this. Even if we’re going to the King’s Court for her to reverse everything with the Time Weaving spell, I don’t want her to have to endure that kind of disrespect again—not even once.
“I think it’s time to change that,” I growl.
And before she can argue, I pull her with me into the crowd.