Golden hair, wrapped in a loose braid, framed her face in soft waves, wisps falling against bare shoulders. Her blue dress stretched across her chest to her arms, revealing a swath of creamy skin and a collarbone that flexed with tension. The dress was long, draping down her curves, but simple in structure.
There weren’t any slits.
Where was her blade? Was it under all that fabric?
I straightened, warmth prickling at the back of my neck. The room felt hotter, the hearth’s glow too intense. Clearing my throat, I gestured to the table. “Princess, Gayle’sol, Poppy.”
The young woman giggled, darting behind Nienna, whose cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. Her gaze swept over me, lingering just long enough to tighten something in my chest. When her teeth caught her lip, I swallowed hard, tugging at the neck of my tunic.
“Tipo and Ken?” I asked, sliding the chair to my left out for Nienna.
“The lad will show up soon,” Clay replied, pulling seats out for the other women. “Ken has dinner with his family now. They just had twins.”
“Girls!” Gayle chimed in, her smile radiant. “They’ll have their hands full if the babes take after their mother’s looks.”
“The climb’s too much for them these days, so Ken takes their meal down the mountain,” Will added, setting a platter of fresh bread in the center of the table.
Nienna eased into her seat, and I nudged the chair closer for her. The brief brush of her shoulder sent a current through me. My fingers itched to skim over her skin, but I locked them at my sides.
She twisted to grin up at me and I almost pulled her into my arms then. Her eyes sparkled with ease, her laughter weaving into Gayle and Poppy’s chatter. They’d made her feel at home—safe, wanted, loved. Any doubts I’d harbored vanished.
Greaves claimed the chair on Nienna’s other side, Will taking the one next to him. Only the spot beside Poppy remained unfilled, a plate resting in front of it, waiting.
The last time I’d seen Tipo, he’d been a wiry lad with wild hair, more interested in chasing the mountain hounds than learning to train them.
As I reached for the basket of bread, its scent—yeasty and rich—mingled with the steam curling from the loaves. “Are the rooms to your liking?” I asked, breaking one open to release the heat.
Nienna brightened. “They’re beautiful! I love the ceiling! Who thought to add mirrors up there?”
“It makes the room seem bigger,” Gayle answered as Will carved the roast. “The mirror makers toss out broken glass. Such a waste! We gathered the shards and used them here.”
Across the table, Clay barely looked up from his book. “They sat in a heap for months,” he muttered.
His wife elbowed him, sparking giggles from Nienna and Poppy.
Plates filled with roasted meat, warm bread, and spiced mead as conversation flowed, lively and unhurried. Between Gayle’s cheer and Nienna’s ease, the room pulsed with camaraderie.
“You were raised up there? So high?” Gayle asked, a hand to her chest as though steadying herself.
“I’d wager it’s no taller than your mountain,” Nienna teased, her eyes glinting. The casual tone—a reference to wagering like a commoner—hinted at her comfort. “And my mother stayed with me. My father took me on my first dragon flight when I was a few months old.”
Poppy leaned over her plate. “What’s it like?”
Nienna paused, as if searching for words. “Flying is… freedom. It steals your breath—you have to time it with the dragon’s rhythm. But with them, you can go anywhere. They can fly for days straight, and nothing can defeat them, so there’s no fear of being hurt. Besides, dragons don’t let their riders fall.”
“Have any ever fallen?” Will asked, stabbing a chunk of beef.
“They train for it—practice jumping off.”
Clay’s fork froze mid-air, a piece of meat dangling forgotten. “Theypracticejumping?”
“They can’t fear falling. So they face it by jumping.” Nienna laughed, leaning back. “For a Rider, trust is everything.”
Will nodded, spearing a potato. “Same with a kingdom. We trust King Kallias, would give our lives for him, because he earned it.”
“More than that, he’s won our loyalty,” Clay added. “Seventeen years of war, and he refused to surrender to treaty demands. No other monarch would have endured that.”
“How many dragons does Draconia have?” I asked, steering the conversation back to Nienna.
