“Not so unusual,” she tells me, spinning to return to the couch. I follow and lounge across from her again. “Some of their mental abilities are quite pronounced. It’s one of the reasons elves may not walk freely in Vanatia. They’re dangerous.”
“This one certainly seems to be.”
“And yet, you would havefuckedher before bringing her to the Nest?”
I shrug again. “As I said, I’ve never had an elf before. And this one is quite beautiful. I didn’t want to pass up the chance.” Fortunately, I’ve spent enough time in women’s beds to convince the Dróttning that I would indeed pause in the midst of capturing a dangerous enemy if I found her attractive enough.
A single eyebrow lifts as she watches me, tests my words for the lie. When it drops, I know my reputation has given her the explanation she needs. “It won’t happen again.”
“She’s in a cell, out of my reach. Even if I wanted to, it wouldn’t happen again.”
“What did you say to each other before you were found? We hope to learn where she’s been. How she could hide from us for all this time. And we still must get answers to the questions we asked ten years ago.”
“We spoke very little,” I explain. “A mutual attraction and desperate circumstances led us to seize the moment fairly quickly.”
“You didn’t talk to each other? She opened her legs to you without persuasion?”
“I didn’t say she was completely willing,” I respond, my steady gaze holding hers. “I was tenacious enough to drag a response from her body.” I’ve never forced a female, but I’ve nurtured a reputation that would satisfy the Dróttning’s demand for cruelty in all who serve her. She believes me to be a mercurial … and persistent … lover. It’s not a leap for the Dróttning to believe I’d raped females in the past and would again.
“Why did the dragon not stop you?”
“I don’t know why he would care. She’s a random elf and I ride Tindera. The dragon—Astarot, was it?—has been in the Nest long enough to recognize me as a dragon rider.”
This time she watches me for a very long time, measuring my words. When she speaks, anger and disappointment echo through hers. “I’d like to believe you, Fhord. You know the penalty for aiding elves. And you know I would have no choice but to punish you if you committed such a heinous crime.”
“Of course,” I concede. “I would expect nothing else.”
“I can’t protect you if you continue with this reckless behavior. I have sacrificed much to keep your secret,” she reminds me.
“Our secret,” I interject. “Yours as much as mine.”
Her eyes grow hard, little bits of agate. She doesn’t like being interrupted. “Quite so,” she bites out. “If you’re exposed, we’ll be condemned together. I won’t let that happen. Even for you.”
“My apologies. I’ll be more careful.” I need to calm her down if I’m going to push her at all about Sifa’s punishment. Ensure, if I can, that Sifa won’t be tortured before I can get to her.
“If I must punish you, I will,” she adds, a note of warning entering her voice. “I would not tolerate your death well, but I would wrest Tindera from you and bind her to another if you betray my trust. After she spends time with the trainer to remind her where her allegiance lies.”
“I’ve known since I bonded with Tindera that any punishment you wield against me would fall on her. I would not risk that. Ever.”
She dips her chin once. “Good.” Curiosity rises in her face for a moment. “What did Tindera ask you to save?”
I struggle to maintain a flat, bored expression in response to her change of subjects. “What?”
“I’ve heard very little from Tindera today. She’s not very talkative. Earlier, though, she asked you to save something … or someone. What does she want you to save?”
I let understanding wash over my features. “You misunderstand. It was a question, not a request. She heard about my attempt to repair the dragon’s injury and wondered if I’d saved him.”
“Why would she care about one rebellious dragon?”
“You know dragons better than me,” I remind her. “They’re nosy creatures, always looking for information about others in the Thunder. She wondered if this one still lived or if he’d been killed for his stubborn nature.”
Again, the Dróttning watches me for a moment, measuring my response. And again, she seems convinced enough to accept my assurances. Finally, she nods, her eyes lighting with what looks like an idea. “I need your help with the elf.”
“Anything.” I hope my twinge of excitement doesn’t appear in my eyes or voice.
“She didn’t respond to our questions before and we have no reason to believe she will now. We’ll try a different approach.”
“You’re not going to torture her?” I don’t have to pretend for my tone to reflect my surprise.
