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“A tapestry,” I reply. “A very big, very ugly one.”
Rayne looks at me like she thinks I’m joking. I smile, bunch the fabric in my hand, and then tug it aside. Steam and light rush into the tunnel. Rayne gasps as I survey Wendolyn’s private bath.
Streams of steaming water from the underground hot springs still trace the same paths down the smooth stone walls, fanning out in a dozen waterfalls of different heights, then filling an enormous basin in the middle of the room. Candles flicker in crystal lamps embedded along the wall, illuminating a dozen or so draconic grooming accouterments, polishing stones and vials of scale softener and the like, that probably make no sense to Rayne.
This room is exactly as I remembered it. The lack of change is almost disorienting. Had I made so little difference to Wendolyn’s life? Had I even been here at all?
A hissing, slithering sound drifts through the opening on the far side of the bath, and my mind snaps back to reality. I step through the tunnel and onto the polished stone floor of the bath, hold my hand out to Rayne, and then let the tapestry fall back into place behind us with a soft whoosh that stirs the air and sends little spirals of steam skittering across the surface of the soaking pool.
It’s not a loud sound. Hells, it’s hardly even a sound at all. But the low hissing coming through the opening stops immediately, and a chill creeps up the back of my neck. It’s a very large room, Wendolyn’s private bath. And my human form is so very small.
“Who’s there?”
Wendolyn’s growl slithers through the passageway, caressing the wet stones. Odd. It doesn’t hurt as much as I’d been expecting, hearing her voice again. I clear my throat.
“Lady Wendolyn D'arnthyarz,” I say. My voice rings across the room, echoing off the tiny waterfalls and smooth stone walls. “I owe you an apology.”
Rayne’s mouth falls open. I try to ignore her as the hissing sound resumes, scales over stone. A noise that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle drifts down the passageway, and then a shadow falls over the entrance.
Mothers. Wendolyn enters the bath chamber slowly, her emerald scales hissing as they rub together and her ebony claws clicking across the stone. Her lips pull back, revealing rows of serrated teeth so white they’re almost luminescent. She comes to rest at the lip of the soaking pool, her body stretched over the polished marble and very clearly blocking the exit. One claw trails in the water, releasing a series of waves that lap against the stone at my feet. Her eyes settle on me, and her lips curve into a mild suggestion of a smile.
“Doshir,” she says slowly, rolling my name around her mouth as though she’s tasting it. “In my bath chamber. As a human. Well, this does bring back memories.”
My cheeks burn, and my throat pulls tight. Memories. Images of her naked human form tumble through my mind. Wendolyn spread across that marble, or pressed against the smooth stone beneath the steaming waterfall. Or as a dragon, her claws hooked into the very ledge where I’m now standing, tongues of fire jetting from her mouth as I—
Right. Yes. I clear my throat again and try to salvage what’s left of my dignity.
“Wendolyn,” I say, beginning again. “This is far too late, I know. However—”
“And you’ve brought a friend,” Wendolyn says, her forked tongue darting out from between her teeth. Her emerald eyes trace Rayne’s body. “Or a snack?”
I take a deep breath.
“Wendolyn, this is Rayne,” I say. “Rayne is a dragon.”
Wendolyn’s eyes narrow. I plunge on.
“I’m here to apologize,” I say. “The way I left, I—”
“Oh, no you’re not,” Wendolyn says, splashing her claw in the water.
“What?” I snap.
Anger creeps up the back of my throat, hot and heavy. It’s an old anger, one that I’d almost forgotten. One that Wendolyn seems to delight in discovering. Wendolyn rolls her eyes, then shifts her gleaming body.
“Your father showed up two days ago,” Wendolyn says, almost lazily. “He addressed the entire Council. Told us the dragon Rensivar was planning to attack the Queensmoot.”
Her eyes fix on me, and her lips pull back. I’d forgotten how well she could carry that expression, one that left you guessing if she was snarling or smiling.
“And you’re going to tell me that your sneaking into my bath chamber after all these many years is completely unrelated to that little surprise?” she finishes, her tongue flicking out through her jagged teeth.
I sigh.
“Well, no,” I admit. “But I also do owe you an apology.”
Wendolyn’s lips pull back even further. The tip of her tail flicks against her leg. She stares at me like she has all the time in the world, and it’s all I can do to keep my gaze fixed on the dark pools of her eyes and not on the hungry gleam of her claws.
“I— I never should have left the way I did,” I stammer. “I’m sorry. It was terrible of me, and you deserved better than that.”
