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“Well,” Aika chimes in, raising her glass toward the center of the table, “it’s nice to know that if Madame is out to kill me, at least I now have the protection from the second most dangerous predator in the kingdom.”
Zaina groans, burying her face in her hands, and Remy laughs outright.
“Well, if I had known that was all it would take, I would have led with that information on our wedding night,” he says glibly.
Aika smiles, but it’s full of mischief. I don’t understand why until I realize she’s taken advantage of his minor distraction to eke out a win of her own.
“And I might have let you get away with it,” she says, gathering the cards to shuffle them. “If you had won, of course.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
REMY
Ican’t stop thinking about the dragon, or the first time I laid eyes on her.
She is my family’s best kept secret. I didn’t even know about her until Louis died. I can practically hear my father’s voice relaying the story to me all over again.
Deep in Le Bois Enchante at the southernmost reach of Corentin is a volcano. Fire and ash rain down from its peak constantly, enough to keep people from coming too close.
That’s where she lives.
And I remember when I saw her for the first time—a mountain of crimson scales with glowing embers in her mouth. Golden spikes studded her back, from her brow down to her tail. She was remarkable, all raw power and flames.
She is intrinsically linked to the royal family. As much a part of the monarchy as we are.
Though, she is forced to remain in hiding.
My mother doesn’t even know about her. Neither do my sisters, in spite of their talent for uncovering secrets.
Before tonight, only Grandmère, my father, and I knew about her.
And apparently, Madame.
For all of the power the woman has already amassed, the idea of her gaining control over a dragon is…unthinkable. The damage she could do. The kingdoms she could topple.
All the more reason to stop her, as if there weren’t plenty of those already.
Wordlessly, I follow Aika through the passageways and down the halls until we’re back in our apartment. She opens the balcony doors, letting the monkey outside. Then she moves past me, and I follow, still lost in my own thoughts.
She’s just as quiet as I am, even as she leads me into our bedchamber. The moonlight illuminates her fair skin and silver gown, giving her an ethereal glow.
Her dark eyes meet mine for a brief moment before she looks away again, turning and gesturing to her back with a delicate motion of her hand. I swallow then, all intelligible thoughts leaving my head in the few seconds it takes for me to cross over to her.
I move my hands to her silk laces, unknotting them before slowly drawing them out, exposing more and more of her skin. When the silver fabric falls to her feet, she’s left standing in nothing but her corset, stockings, and heels.
Her head tilts to the side, and she eyes the spot where my hand lingers on her shoulder. She doesn’t move away from my touch.
I take a breath before repeating the process with her corset until it joins the pile of clothes at her feet. Again, she doesn’t move.
A small intake of air escapes her lips when I softly run a finger up the length of her spine.
“You were supposed to go back to hating me today,” her voice is barely a whisper.
“Who says I ever stopped?” I growl back, leaning down to graze her neck with my teeth.
The lie tastes sweet on my tongue, or maybe it’s the taste of her.
I trail my fingers up to remove the pins from her hair. Her silk locks slide down her back like an onyx waterfall, all the way to the dimples at the base of her spine. I run my tongue along the soft shell of her ear.
