CHAPTER
35
THE GOLDEN DAYS OF LYRHEIM
1800 years after the making of Aron-Lyr
Noctis
This room needs a bed.” Baradaz’s voice held that playful edge that told me she was bored and trying to get a reaction out of me as she strolled beside the many shelves lining the walls of my tower. Her fingers trailed over the pieces kept there, occasionally picking up something of interest.
“What for?” I asked from my armchair by the fire, taking a sip of my tea to hide the smile that tugged on my lips. “There is a bed upstairs, and you do not need to sleep.”
Warmth spread through my chest as I watched her. She was like a little magpie, drawn to the glittering objects illuminated by the dappled sunlight streaming in through the single window. Her magic had caught on to its mistress’s mood, teasingly dancing around her in a glimmering swirl, making her fiery hair and luminous skin glow. She hadn’t bothered to dress after our earlier activities, alluringly at ease in her own skin. I returned my eyes to the parchment in my other hand, aware my air of pretended nonchalance would crumble if I watched her for too long in her naked glory. I’d had her against oneof those shelves earlier, her hands in my hair, my mouth between her wonderful supple thighs, bringing her to a gasping climax.
My logical objection prompted a long-suffering sigh from my tempting little visitor. “A bed can be used for things other than sleeping.”
“Oh, really?” I gave up and put the parchment down, realizing she wouldn’t let this go until I followed her wishes. She never did. “You will have to enlighten me about those things one day.”
Despite my taunting words, I reached for my powers, letting strands of Earth, Air, and Darkness resonate through me. A shifting creak filled the room as a round wooden frame rose out of the floor, soft patches of moss popping up to cover the hard surface, creating a comfortable nest.
Baradaz clapped her hands together with a trilling laugh, her eyes wide with delight. “Oh, that is inspired,” she exclaimed, sauntering over to the bed. The way she lounged on the moss like a content feline granted me enticing glimpses of her firm backside and those glorious full breasts.
“Will you now cease provoking me?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
She propped herself up on one arm and crinkled her cute little nose. “Are you drinking that abysmal tea again?”
“I like that tea,” I shot back with narrowed eyes. The tea’s bitter taste was something I had grown oddly fond of, even if it wasn’t the most pleasant.
“You are only too proud to admit that it’s dreadfully bitter because Sha’am has been waiting for it since the day he gifted it to you.” A cheeky smile played on Baradaz’s lips. “Besides, this is your own fault. You should have let me return the favor earlier. Then you wouldn’t be so bad-tempered now.”
“Sometimes,” I answered, “there is pleasure to be had in anticipation.” I raised the parchment between us like a shield. “Patience is a virtue, my queen. You should try it.”
Colors appeared on the surface in front of me, forming blue and white mountains and streams. While I had kept my promise to Baradaz and helped her strengthen the locations where the Veil to the Other was thin, many places up north still allowed the Kritak to cross into this world. The Veil was different there, the Other never more than a step away.
The Council had decided to send an expedition to the desolate region to assess the situation. I would have gone myself, but Aramaz had ordered the Aurea to remain in Lyrheim. It seemed we were all needed for some great, mysterious feat of creation the Allfather had planned.
Since the north was where I had come into this world, in a dark, terrible wave of sheer power, I knew the area best, and had been asked to provide the Anima selected to go there with a few maps created from my memories. I had been reluctant to do so at first. There were things in the north I didn’t want anyone to find. Somehow my tempting little queen had convinced me to play nice, though.
“What is this?” Baradaz’s voice interrupted my task once more. She lay on her back, studying an object as large as her hand, its red and golden hues gleaming in the light.
“A dragon scale,” I answered curtly, trying to hide the sharp pang echoing through my heart at the sight of the only thing that remained of Silvestri, the first dragon. I resolutely kept my focus on the map before me. Those mountains had been higher, I was sure, their ragged peaks darkening the gray sky as I first awakened on Aron-Lyr’s soil, cold and alone. Because I rebelled. Because I rebelled and fought and was cast out after my defeat.
“And what are dragons?”
Baradaz’s question cut through the burning rage awakening inside me. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if she sensed the turmoil within me. I would try again one day. Try again and succeed.
My gaze shifted to her. Would she understand if I told her about what happened? Would she take my side? I had her desire, but what would it take to gain her support?
The colors on the parchment shifted as my thoughts scattered, distracted by warm skin and glowing silver eyes, foreboding mountains turning into tempting curves, rivers into a stream of fiery hair. The image held a beautiful likeness to Baradaz. Unfortunately, I could hardly present it to the Council instead of a map.
I set the map and my tea aside, realizing I would never get this task done with her here. “Awe-inspiring beasts, as terrible as they are beautiful,” I said, my voice tinged with a hint of sorrow. I had to step carefully with her.
Baradaz’s lips twitched into a very satisfied smile as I approached the bed, but her gaze remained on the dragon scale. “Who created them? The Allfather?” she asked, her eyes glittering with curiosity and something else—admiration, perhaps?
“No. I did.” Only for our Maker to declare them unfit for this world and order me to destroy them. “One of my many sins.” The memory of their destruction haunted me, a constant reminder of my failure.
“Intriguing.” Baradaz put down the scale, eyes glittering as I bent over her. “Tell me more about your sins, then.”
