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I swatted at him, not sure at that moment whether I truly wanted to wound him or not. He jumped back with a laugh.
The sound was... pleasant. I couldn’t remember the last time I had heard him laugh so freely.
I eyed him speculatively. “So, a truce?”
“I would like that, yes.” A look of hesitation crossed his face.
“What is it?”
“I cannot undo naming you my paramour–nor would I, for your sake. Not yet. If you are to roam the palace freely and go where you will, you must agree to abide by that term.”
“Play the submissive little lover and you’ll let me out of my cage?” I bared my teeth. “Fine. If that’s the way you like them.”
“Like what?”
“Your women.” I glared, refusing to allow my mind to imagine Draven with any woman. Even a submissive one. Especially a submissive one. Especially a submissive one who asked nicely to be gagged.
He smirked in a way that sent my heart suddenly flying. “I don’t like submissive women. Surely your presence in my bed is the clearest indication of that.”
I refused to be baited. Or tempted. I wasn’t sure which he was going for in that moment. “Just because you’ve brought home a rogue princess who won’t do your bidding doesn’t mean you actually like her.” I tried not to sound tongue-tied. “Her. Me.”
Draven looked amused. “You. But I do.”
“You do what?”
“I do like you, Morgan. Why the hell would I have saved you otherwise?” He began striding out of the temple. “There’s something about you. You’ve got... grit.”
I stared after him. Grit? I hadgrit?
I decided I was not going to say thank you for that compliment. If that was even what it was.
“I want something else from you,” I called after him.
He turned back to me swiftly and I caught my breath.
The volcanic light streaming through the stained-glass windows above us had landed perfectly on his golden-bronze skin, bringing it to a glow. Tall and broad-shouldered, he cut a striking figure, emanating an air of effortless strength and power.
What had Breena said?
That he would make a fine emperor?
Certainly a fine-looking one.
His green eyes gleamed as they met my own. “You request a favor, my sweet?”
“Yes, my love,” I said, tossing my head as arrogantly as I could manage and trying to channel Lyrastra. “I want a trainer.”
“A trainer? In what?” Draven seemed amused. He wasn’t refusing.
I paused. “In what?”
“Well, it seems to me there are a few things you could request training in. Weapons and fighting, certainly. But also...” His eyes dropped to my bare arms, covered with silver markings. “Magic. How to use it. How to control it.”
I clenched my jaw. “Politely, I decline. Weapons, yes. And sparring. I want to get back into shape.”
He hesitated briefly, then nodded. “Very well. I’ll set up something. With the very best of our warriors.”
That sounded promising.
