Chapter Seventeen
Avari
Itook the king’s hand into mine and let our fires mingle. The sensation resembled stepping into a warm bath after a long day. It caressed my skin, and my flickers answered with a furious dance.
Both our hands were covered, his crimson and mine a luminous marigold; they fought for dominance. I didn’t fully understand it, but it seemed to please him, and I needed him in a good mood. There was no reason not to indulge it, even if it felt more feral than anything before.
He stood very still, features drawn with concentration. Trying to calm my thudding heart, I said, ‘Now, find my witch magic, too.’
‘Your witch magic?’ Every muscle in his body tensed. His hand twitched in mine without breaking the connection.
I chastised myself for letting it sting. I knew better than to expect acceptance, yet part of me still hoped we might be past that.
‘I conjure my dragon with both. They’re two sides of me. Two halves,’ I explained softly, keeping my voice low so I wouldn’t spook him. I worried he only accepted my fire because he could control it.
Witchcraft and fire had been politically misaligned for a long time.
Only days ago, I’d heard the rumour that the treaty to train him might have been a ruse, an assassination attempt.
I thought it was absurd. The king was a force of nature; energy pulsed off him in waves, and I doubted I could ever push that image from my mind.
‘How do I find it? I couldn’t sense it when I was healing you,’ River said, eyebrows knitting together. I wasn’t surprised; my green wasn’t as eager for him.
‘My green’s different. Fire spreads through my chest and arms. Witchcraft lives in my heart.
You’ll have to dig for it.’ Admitting that my fire was defective by their standards stung, but the milk was already spilt—he felt it when he healed me.
My only hope was that he kept it to himself.
I couldn’t bear being ridiculed in this court.
He went ashen, like the warmth had left him. I hurried. ‘Listen, you don’t have to do it if you’re uncomfortable.’
Chest rising and falling erratically, his face was the very picture of focus. I watched him, anticipation knotting in my stomach.
‘Is it safe?’ he asked quickly.
The idea that I might pose a threat to him was absurd and somehow offensive. ‘My magic’s gentle.’
His head shook. ‘I meant for you.’
That softened me. ‘Don’t try to overpower it. Let them coexist for a while before I start conjuring so you can sense what it does. I’ll be fine.’
‘Can’t you just draw it out, so we eliminate the risk of charring one of your more vital organs?’ he asked, his thumb brushing over my knuckles absent-mindedly
I rolled my eyes.
‘Oh, it’s only my heart.' I attempted levity. He didn’t find it funny, exhaling slowly through his nose. ‘It starts there. I could show you the after, but you might miss something important that could help you conjure. You don’t have to worry. I trust you.’
‘Since when?’ His pupils widened, his gaze dropping to our joined hands for a brief moment before returning to my face. Something that felt almost like amusement softened the air between us.
‘I’m not sure,’ I admitted. ‘Saving a girl from her mother does wonders. Focus.’
Beads of sweat gathered on his brow as he withdrew most of his flames, leaving only a thin thread to entwine with mine. His rough, calloused palm squeezed mine as if he needed reassurance.
I guided his fire along my own; our palms were the bridge between our bodies.
Heat rushed through me and settled in my chest. I held it there, letting it linger so he could feel the green magic pulsing at my core.
The warmth felt both foreign and familiar, as welcome as a friend, yet it still left me strangely uneasy.
I refused to rush him after everything that had happened already. My recent near-death experiences were more than enough; there was no need to add one more in the mix.
For a moment, I imagined everything that could go wrong. He must have sensed my hesitation because he dipped his head in a small, reassuring nod and waited for mine before I allowed our fires to carry us both into the sacred green at my heart.
Three sources of power pressed into that tiny space, stretching it until I felt breathless. River froze, unsure how to proceed. I found it bitterly ironic that my heart—of all parts—seemed to reject him.
My weakened green circled his crimson flames like a guardian, marking the intruder and preparing to strike. Heat rose in my chest, and I trembled under the strain. If I didn’t show him how my conjuring worked now, I would collapse, and all the effort would have been wasted.
I coaxed my forces into a swirling orb; they stayed distinct at the edges, merging to a soft olive tone in the centre. The sphere spun faster and faster until I let it surge from my free hand at the peak of momentum.
A giant moss-coloured rift tore open in the sky, and my emerald dragon shot through.
When the energy fizzled from my palm, River took his hand away and pressed it to my forehead. ‘You’re burning up.’
‘I’m fine. I just don’t do this often.’
His face betrayed the doubt he didn’t bother to hide as I turned to look in the distance.
Anya landed twenty feet away; her endless tail whipped the air, and the ground shook beneath her claws. The sharp crack demanded our attention.
‘One word, and I’ll burn his hand off,’ she warned.
‘No, he’s okay. He saved me, remember,’ I said.
The dragon grunted in acknowledgement.
I had to speak aloud so that the king felt included.
Before I could make formal introductions, River bowed his head to her in respect. The gesture caught me off guard and pleased me. Respect mattered to dragons.
‘Anya, meet King Dracon,’ I said. ‘This is Anya, my bonded.’
‘I expected him to be taller,’ she rumbled, eyes tracing every inch of him.
‘He’s the tallest man I’ve met,’ I said, quick to defend him.
‘He doesn’t even reach my hip,’ she scoffed.
‘Neither do I.’
Anya clearly blamed River for how I’d been treated, and it would take her time to warm to him. Whether he noticed or not, he watched her with something like worship. Seemingly memorising every movement as if he needed the sight burned into him.
For the first time, I saw a high-ranking royal experience pure happiness that wasn’t self-serving. Perhaps this was an impactful moment for both of us.
‘I am pleased to meet you, Anya. I hope you don’t mind me calling you by your name,’ River said quietly.
‘I don’t particularly care for it,’ she replied, and I chose not to relay.
‘It is a great honour to welcome you to my kingdom. My name is King River Dracon, and I understand it is your ancestral home too. I’d like you to know we have kept the Cave City in a stellar condition, awaiting the dragons’ return.’
My jaw dropped at his use of his real name. Relief washed over me. I had to stop myself from blurting it out earlier.
Smoke curled toward him as Anya snorted. ‘One would hope so.’
‘Please let your bonded know if I can be of assistance. I hope to conjure my own dragon soon. Perhaps you won’t be lonely in the caves for long.’
‘Slim chance,’ Anya said.
‘Oh, stop it. He’s trying. By the way, the horses are off limits.’
Anya shot me a glare, clamped her jaws shut, and launched into the sky with a thunderous clap of her wings. We stood in silence, watching her soar. River's head followed every sweep of her flight, his eyes tracking the movement of her wings as though he'd never seen anything more fascinating.
When she disappeared from view, he looked at me, puzzled. ‘Was it something I said?’
‘No,’ I said, and relief flickered across his face. ‘That was me.’
‘I don’t mean to pry, but I want to know,’ he said, falling into step behind me as I led the way back to the castle. ‘So?’
‘I'd forbidden her from eating your horses. She's pissed off. Called me a nuisance,’ I said, wiping the sweat from my brow. Truth be told, I felt a little too warm, but I didn't want to raise any alarms. It would probably settle on its own.
River’s smirk returned. ‘So hunger’s a touchy subject for her, too. Who would have thought?’
If looks could kill, the one I gave him would have at least made him uneasy. Michael had warned me River liked to wind people up; I would not be his passive victim.
‘What did she think of me, then?’ he asked, straightening as he walked alongside me.
Ah. His image. His pride. He handed me a loaded gun; it would have been a shame not to use it.
I pretended to hesitate and shuddered. ‘You don’t want to know.’
His smirk fell, and his shoulders tensed as if bracing for a lash. He stepped in front of the door and pushed me to answer.
I feigned sympathy. ‘Apparently, you look more frail than your ancestors…’
His mouth fell open, and I slipped past him into the castle with a suppressed grin. If he wanted to tease me, I would take great pleasure in returning the favour.