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Fyia didn't hesitate, passing him her clothes, then taking his hand, her body shivering so violently she could barely make her limbs work.
'Here,' he said, wrapping her in his cloak and pulling her into an embrace. 'My body heat will help.'
She nodded, or at least tied to through the shaking.
He’d trapped her arms between them, and she slid them to either side, pressing her naked torso against his. She sucked as much warmth from him as she could, marveling at the heat radiating from Cal's sculpted muscles.
He pulled away a little, and a protest sounded in the back of her throat before she could stop herself. 'I'm just getting my shirt and doublet,' he said with a laugh. 'It'll help.'
She released him, and he slung the clothing over his arms and shoulders, but didn't fasten them, leaving his chest exposed, then pulled her in once more.
Eventually, she stopped shaking enough to realize his hands were rubbing soothing circles across her back. Her naked back. Inside the cloak he'd fastened around her neck. Apparently he'd done away with the no touching rule.
'You should get dressed,' he said into her hair.
He was right, she should get dressed, but not one single part of her wanted to leave the circle of his arms. For so long, Fyia had held all the power, and even when others stepped up—Sensis and Edu and Starfall—Fyia was still the one they looked to. Even when Adigos had taken charge in bed, it had been an act—a fun pretense she'd happily indulged in. But here, with Cal, it didn't feel that way. He wouldn't defer to her because she was a queen. He was a king, after all, and she was in his lands.
Which meant … if he didn't want to be here, he wouldn't be. Despite the threat to his position—the supposed betrayal of his people—he was here, she realized, because he wanted something. But what? Adventure? To piss off the Queen Mother? Because he wanted the dragons too?
The uncertainty of it delighted her. Here she was, alone with a man who was outside her control, who had motives of his own. When had she last had such a thrill? Was he an adversary, or an ally? Had he Cruaxee-touched her as part of some bigger strategy, or because he was as impulsive as she?
'Fyia?' he said gently. He slid one hand to her nape, the other moving to push back the cloak's hood. He hooked a finger under her chin and peeled her face from his chest, forcing her to look up at him. 'Are you okay?'
A ripple of concern crossed his features, so she smiled reassuringly. 'I think so,' she said, 'but I don't want to leave your delicious warmth.'
He huffed out a laugh, then turned her in the circle of his arms. He shifted the cloak too, so it covered her front, her bare back now against his chest. He slipped a hand around her waist, and Fyia's body melted, her pulse racing at the barely there caress of his fingers.
'We're going to sit,' he said, then lowered them onto a chair. The shock of that fact finally jolted Fyia into noticing her surroundings.
'Where are we?' she said, taking the clothes Cal offered her. She fumbled with her garments under the cloak, Cal holding her steady, and, Fyia noticed, not letting her backside come into contact with his groin. It was a shame, for it was both hot there and intriguing, but his strong, callused hands in the dip of her waist were a good consolidation, scorching against her cool flesh.
She slipped on her socks and boots, but lingered before pulling up her pants, savoring the last moments of Cal's touch. He surprised her by holding her brassier under the cloak, sliding it up her arms so she could fasten in at the front. Her icy fingers fumbled over the hooks, and she fought the urge to ask him to help, wondering what his big, assured hands would feel like on her breasts. A shiver ran through her at the thought, and she finally stood, not allowing herself to turn thoughts into action.
Cal stood too, his torso shielding her from the air, and he slipped her shirt over her head, then unfastened the cloak, so she could pull the shirt down and tuck it firmly into her pants.
'You should have brought warmer clothes,' he said, his lips still close to her ear.
'If only I'd know this was how my day would unravel …'
To her surprise, Cal refastened the cloak around her neck and pulled up the hood. 'You need it more than I do,' he said, and she wasn’t going to argue.
She wrapped the soft, plush, heavy fabric around her, inhaling the snowy, musky scent of him. 'Thank you.'
He nodded, then picked up the torch. 'Welcome to the Temple of the Dragon.'
Cal took a step away. Now the heat had returned to his body, he couldn't stand so close to Fyia without signs of his arousal becoming obvious. And anyway, they were here for more important reasons.
The aqueduct had deposited them in a small antechamber off the main expanse of the temple, and he watched her as she explored the cavernous space. She followed the aqueduct—which was sunken into the floor—all the way to where two thrones sat atop a set of wide, shallow steps. The aqueduct bisected the thrones, making them seem oddly separate, at least if one ignored the enormous stone dragon with one claw on the back of each throne, its snarling head hanging down between them.
Fyia paused at the base of the steps, then forged ahead before Cal could summon the words to stop her.
'I thought these were a myth,' she said, turning so she stood before the throne on the right. They were made of dragon glass, the arms and backs decorated with gold, and dragon ivory. The decoration seemed to float in thin air, as the glass was almost impossible to see.
'No,' said Cal, swallowing hard. Would she go through with it? Sit atop a dragon throne? She was fire-touched, and had self-belief strong enough to tell her she was worthy, but she hadn't yet found the dragons, if indeed she ever would.
Cal had come close to placing his own rear on those thrones more times than he could count. At first, sharp words from the Queen Mother, or a member of the Dragon Order, had stopped him in his tracks, and later, the respect they'd instilled in him had kept him away. But they weren't here now. Nobody would discover them. And it was only a chair, for Gods' sake.
Fyia's face split into a beaming smile as he joined her. He looked out over the expansive throne room, imagining a time when it had been packed with humanity, full of members of a single great nation, united under the Dragon Kings and Queens.
