Page 17 of A Matter of Dragons

“I’m doing everything I can to be the next queen,” Wendolyn had fussed.

I’d heard the shifting rustle of scales on stone from somewhere farther inside; the green dragon I’d fallen in love with, the woman I’d promised everything to, was not alone in our apartment high in the cliffs of the Iron Mountains.

“I mean, for the Mothers’ sake,” Wendolyn had said, “I’m even fucking Doshir!”

She’d said my name like it was something you’d find crushed between your claws. Laughter had scraped the walls of the corridor, like a stone on raw skin. Two voices twined together, rising and falling like bodies in heat. The second voice was deeper, thicker.

“And when you become queen?” he’d asked, in a voice of smoke and embers.

The same voice that had called me a coward. A weakling. The one who’d just denied my request to join the Council and said he didn’t give a damn who my mother was. That I couldn’t ride on her talons any further.

Greimbyss, the bronze dragon. My talons clenched, crushing the delicate alpine flowers I’d just picked for Wendolyn. I imagined their bodies intertwined, my beautiful emerald Wendolyn in his gleaming scales.

And then I’d fled. I’d raced straight through the length of the Iron Mountains and leaped into the skies above the eastern cliffs. Two days of flying had taken me straight to Cairncliff, to the steps of my father’s shop, where no one would ever doubt the truth of Greimbyss’s words.

Because it was so bloody obvious that I was indeed a coward.

“Oh, by the King,” Rayne said, wiping her eyes. “I’ll never be able to take dragons seriously again.”

I set down my glass and took a deep breath. The past was dead, Mothers damn it. I hadn’t been to the Iron Mountains in ages. I’d stopped keeping tabs on Wendolyn many years ago after I’d heard she and Greimbyss had welcomed their own hatchling.

And this beautiful woman in front of me knew nothing about dragons. Stars, but that thought was liberating. To her, tonight, I could be anyone. I could be the charming, erudite, human gentleman who'd invited her out for a drink and a laugh over the absurdity of dragons. And perhaps I’d also be the charming, erudite, human gentleman who would get to taste those soft, full lips, to plunge my hands into those red curls. To undo the silk laces of that bodice. To seduce someone with my words, someone who was interested in what I had to say and not just looking to add a dragon to their row of bedpost notches.

“Good,” I said as I raised the bottle and refilled my glass. “I don’t think you should take anything that seriously.”

Rayne smiled, and some horrible part of my mind howled that I was being a filthy hypocrite. Didn’t I take everything too seriously?

And that was exactly the part of my mind I planned to drown in frost wine tonight. But first, business. This woman currently giggling about my stupid damned hatching prophecy was clearly rich enough to travel outside of Valgros; I’d assumed she would have some connections to King Donovan’s court, and she’d all but said so a few minutes ago. All that remained was plumbing the depths of that connection, finding out what she knew and what I could get out of her. I leaned forward, trying to keep my eyes from falling to the delicate lace pattern on her low-cut bodice.

“I’ve never been to Valgros,” I said casually.

It was almost the truth. I hadn’t been to those dreary, rain-swept rocks in a human lifetime, and certainly not since Donovan seized control and kicked all the non-humans out.

Rayne’s laughter froze at the mention of Valgros. Her jaw tightened, her eyes narrowed, and she leaned back. Okay. So much for asking direct questions about King Donovan’s court.

“What do you think of Cairncliff?” I asked, steering the conversation back into what I hoped would be more comfortable waters.

“Oh,” she said. Her shoulders relaxed slightly. “Well, it’s... strange.”

“Strange?”

She shrugged, then took another sip of wine. “Not bad, strange. Just strange, strange. All these, these elves are just walking around.” She waved a hand at the darkness outside the window where leaves rustled softly against the walls of the building. “And that weird forest in the middle of town.” She shook her head, sending curls cascading over her shoulders. “Strange.”

An idea jumped into my consciousness like flames leaping from a match to dry kindling. “Would you like to see Cairncliff?” I asked.

She gave me a rather adorable pout. “See Cairncliff? Aren’t we sitting in Cairncliff right now?”

“I know a spot with the best view of the entire town,” I explained. “You can see it all, from the harbor to the Spirit Wood to the city walls.”

Her brow furrowed as if she were consulting a mental map. “The only place like that would be Noble’s Hill.”

“Impressive,” I said. “Maybe you already know Cairncliff so well that you don’t need to see the view after all.”

She drained the last of her frost wine, set the empty glass on the table, and gave me a look that made me feel like a side of meat in the marketplace. That low, aching hunger I’d felt ever since I’d watched her walk away from my shop tightened in my gut. Damn, she was beautiful, and the combination of frost wine and a woman’s laughter had filled me with a strange sort of carnal longing I hadn’t felt in decades. Many decades.

Rayne grinned suddenly, and I felt the scales had tipped. Whatever silent mental evaluation she’d just completed, I’d come out ahead. The thought was even more satisfying than I’d expected.

“So, where is this mysterious place?” she asked.