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Sten stifled a yawn as he left Eamerson’s office to check in on the council room before going on his daily rounds.
Most of the usual dragons, and the one human, were there.
“Where’s Jori?”
Marli hadn’t arrived yet either.
Kymri glanced up from Eamerson’s tablet as she and Elora discussed some protocol issues. “He took Marli down to the Aerie for some sparring. They’re both getting cabin fever. Neither is used to being confined for very long.”
Blood drained from Sten’s face. “Which part?”
Kymri shrugged.
Sten darted out of the room and mashed the elevator button.
Neither of them should be anywhere inside the mountain without him. Or at least nowhere below the top three floors that belonged to the monarch and his guests.
How many times have I warned Jori about venturing out without me?
“Dragonsdammit!” He snarled at the elevator doors, forcing patience, knowing it was still faster than running down all the fucking stairs.
Dragon form? Human form?
Jori, in dragon form, could defend himself. Marli in dragon form would be seen as a provocation. Especially if anyone saw her strip to shift.
One Aeleftherian dragoness in a mountain full of males…
He swallowed.
In their human forms, they were both vulnerable if someone decided to have a go.
By the time he reached the Aerie’s floor, he was sure he’d find them both ripped to pieces by the faction that Sten had yet to convince to accept the new king—despite the oaths they had taken.
The doors swished open and Sten was sure he lost a layer of skin as he forced himself between the too-slow doors and sprinted through corridors that echoed with shouts.
Fuck. I’m too late.
Sten had to shove his way between males to reach the center. Heart hammering in his throat, he gasped for breath, taking in the scene.
Musk, sweat and testosterone hung heavy in the air.
There was a funk surrounding them.
Marli, in too-big sweats with the sleeves and ankles rolled up, faced Jori, shirtless, shoe-less, wearing his cargo shorts. They both wore sparring gear, bouncing on the balls of their bare feet, circling one another.
Even her toenails were painted purple to match her fingers.
Marli spun, foot shooting out and up. Jori blocked it with a gloved hand and swung with the other.
She danced away, feinted and swung her foot low, taking his feet out from under him.
He fell hard on the mat.
“Oh!” the crowd said in unison.
Sten gaped at the onlookers.
No one looked like they were going to attack. They were all too engrossed in the sparring match.
