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“The Dark Elves make this?”
“Yes,” he grumbles. “They also make an orange and spice blend that I drink every morning. I blame them for my addiction to tea.”
“Well, there are worse things to become addicted to, you know.” I yawn, surprised at how quickly I’m beginning to tire. “One of the men who came to seek my hand had a problem with pipe weed. Lord Gile’s breath was terrible.” I grimace at the memory. “He tried to kiss me, but I refused and pushed him away.”
“What was his name?” Aurdyn growls. “Tell me, and I will make certain he never—”
“I already took care of it.” I manage a faint smile as I try to stay awake. “I pushed him over the balcony railing and into the castle moat.” A booming laugh escapes Aurdyn. “He withdrew his proposal rather quickly after that.”
My eyelids blink open and closed as I fight against the sleep trying to claim me. I want to finish the conversation we had earlier, when we were interrupted. I need to know if there is something between us besides just the bond.
I know there is for me, but for him… I am uncertain. And even though I could ask now, I’m afraid… knowing that his answer could shatter my heart.
I glance down at my hand, remembering the fire that erupted from my palm as I conjured flame to shield us from the Mage’s attack. The bond gave me this ability, and I wonder, if it is severed, will it go away entirely? I’m not even sure how I called it forth in the first place, and that worries me because I do not know how to control it.
Aurdyn cups my chin, smoothing his thumb across my cheek. “What is wrong?”
“I still do not know how I was able to use fire magic,” I whisper. “And I worry it might happen again, and I will not be able to control it.”
High Priest Arkon may be able to help you to understand it better.
“And if he cannot?” I ask, giving voice to my fear. “What if I accidentally hurt someone?”
“We are Dragons—creatures of fire.” Aurdyn huffs out a laugh and a thin line of smoke curls around his nostrils as if to emphasize his point. “There is no safer place for you to learn how to wield it, than here, among my kind.”
I’m relieved, but also sad because my powers mean that I am what they accused me of being… what they would have burned me at the stake for. I glance down at my open palm again. “Now, I truly am what they said I was: a witch. Even if we free my uncle from Luria’s spell, I will never be accepted by my people now.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Aurdyn murmurs as he wraps a hand around my wrist and lifts it to his mouth. He presses a tender kiss to the center of my palm before his gaze snaps up to mine, full of fire and possession. “But you aremywitch. And if anyone dares try to harm you, I will burn them to ash.”
My heart pounds as he leans in, his warm breath fanning across my skin before his lips brush mine in a featherlight touch.
A sharp knock at the door startles me, and I quickly pull away as the healer returns.
“I brought another cup.” Her eyes shine with kindness as she holds the cup out to me. “One more should be enough to chase the alcohol from your system.”
“Thank you,” Aurdyn says, taking the cup before I can grab it and pressing it to my lips again for me to drink.
“Remain nearby,” he tells her. “In case we have need of you.”
“I will take the room down the hall.” She dips her chin and then leaves.
He offers me the cup again, and I finish the last of my tea.
He is a Dragon—his race feared by many for their fierce strength and devastating fire. And yet, he is so gentle with me. A maelstrom of emotion swirls deep within. I am losing my heart to the Dragon King.
I want to know that what we have between us is more than the bond. That it’s real. That he would choose me even if we were not fated. But exhaustion steals through me, and I struggle to keep my eyes open.
“Shall I carry you to your room?” he murmurs. “So you may sleep.”
“I’m fine right here,” I whisper, resting my head on his shoulder as I lean against him, my back still propped against the headboard. “I’m too tired to move.”
Gently, he guides me to lie down, pulling the blankets and furs over me. Closing my eyes, I’m just starting to drift away when I feel a puff of warm air part the hair on top of my head.
His excuse each time he did this before was because he was trying to overcome the smell of the Dwarves. Already half asleep, I mumble. “There are not any Dwarves here now. Why are you scenting me?”
“Because you are mine,” his voice rumbles, and warmth floods my system as I slip away into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.
CHAPTER32
