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“I would go for you, your honor. But I cannot leave my post,” Nilrasha said.
“You could leave it in my hands,” Halaflora said. “I took the Firemaiden oath. I never did anything with the other maidens, but does that make the oath less valid?”
The Copper felt trapped between duty and need.
“No. I may need to argue, or even challenge. I’ll beg the FeLissaraths to return to the palace long enough for me to return to the Lavadome. I can break tradition and fly to one of the griffaran cuts in the mountainside. This is important enough. I can make the journey at night and rest in the day and be there in two days.”
“Will your wing hold up? You’ll be far from help if that man’s contraption fails,” Halaflora said.
“If the joint fails after all this testing and trial, Rayg will wish I’d been on the other side of the world.”
“Your blood certainly was up tonight,” Halaflora said, as they settled into their sleeping chamber. His mate had turned several of the stone globes into rather comfortable backrests, thanks to cushions stuffed with bird feathers. “I’ve never seen you like this. Is this what war is like?”
“No. Nothing like this, and Spirits keep it that way.”
“What way?”
“Far from here.”
“You smell hot. I thought certainly you’d take your jade up tonight.”
The world froze for a moment. “You thought what?”
Rhea finished cleaning out her mistress’s ears and scurried out of the room. Had the girl put on weight? Ten other equally trivial thoughts washed through his head, so eager was he to avoid the consequences of thinking about what his mate had just said.
“I’m sorry. Am I being too direct? All those years with SiMevolant as a brother. Some time at night to relax and refresh, then.”
“She’s a Firemaid. She swore an oath. I swore an oath to you, for that matter. She’s not…not my lover.”
“Oh, RuGaard. My lord, I won’t be hurt by the truth. I married a dragon, not some perfumed flower. There’s nothing wrong with a jade for a dragon in your…in your situation. Because of my health.”
“Have you gone mad?” He didn’t mean it, but the words came out. Anything to stop her from going on.
“Our mating wasn’t a real mating, after all. As much as it meant to me.” She looked down.
“I had no idea you felt that way,” he said at last. They each studied opposite corners of the room for a moment. What came out next was inspired by kindness, rather than love, but he meant every word of it. “Darling. Let’s be mated again, then. Or mated for the first time. Whatever you call it. In tight spots, during wars and so forth, dragons have been known to mate underground. It’s tactics, you know. Just a matter of position.”
She looked up at him, blushing.
“Can we? Really? Would it be…proper?”
“Proper? Probably not. But it’ll be exciting.”
The sun rose in front of the mountains to the west and lit the night-curtains with its orange glow.
West? In front of the mountains?
The Copper’s sluggish brain took its time apprehending the wrongness of the lighting. He opened another eye and righted himself, rose, and put his head out of the curtains.
Flames dotted the plateau, but they were nothing compared to the conflagration below the temple. The city of the kern kings was a solid mass of fire.
He saw dragonwings silhouetted against the flames, and then another set, and another, flying in a line.
“What is it, my lord?” his mate said.
He pushed the curtains open with his tail. “War.”
“RuGaard.” He heard a dragon voice from above, soft yet insistent.
