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Feyla jumped up, her wings snapping out, and we were soon soaring above the forest again.
We flew in silence, which was a welcome respite from his bragging and my snapping. I wasn’t normally the type to squabble—other than with Eamon, and with him, I only felt dismay, not desire.
Horror dumped through me when I realized something. Despite our ongoing arguments, I was attracted to Jaus.
I do not desire him.
Yet I was haunted by his certainty that all fated mates fell for their orc husbands.
We stopped twice to eat more of the packed berries, seeds, and nuts, and drain the rest of the water.
All the time we flew, Jaus intently scanned the area around us, his gaze always returning to my face. At least his eyes didn’t drop from there, his hand following. I could be grateful for that.
He’d made it clear I’d lie beside him, but for now, he didn’t appear ready to give reign to his threat to mate with me.
By the time the sun tiptoed down toward the horizon, we were approaching the orc city. A vast body of water gleamed pale lavender beyond the outer walls with only a few crests of white breaking the glassy surface.
“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” I said in awe. “It’s . . .”
“What do you speak of?” His brow narrowed as he scanned the area. Did he think we’d be attacked? Who’d dare come near Feyla, let alone the magnificent orc riding her with a weapon half my size strapped to his back? Yesterday, he’d embedded the head of it in the shayde with an ease that stunned me.
“I speak of the enormous body of water,” I said.
“It’s the Tartledge Sea. Don’t go there.”
“Why not?”
“Though I plan to keep a tight rein, you’ll have free time,” he said sharply. “Do not go near the sea.”
“You need to tell me why.”
“The dresalods will see you.”
“I don’t know what they are.”
“Let’s hope you never find out.”
I shivered, though I wasn’t sure why.
“Your city’s gorgeous.” As Feyla flew closer, I took in the sunlight glinting off buildings that appeared crafted from the finest silver. “We build wooden structures, as you probably know.”
“They burn. Silver doesn’t as easily.”
“While it’s good to avoid burnable material, why do you feel the need to build all your homes from metal?”
“There was a time when voxes like my Feyla attacked.” He patted her leathery hide, and she grunted, soaring down toward the big city. “An earlier species of voxes could light an entire building aflame with one blast of its lungs.”
“Feyla can’t?”
“It was bred out of them ages ago.”
I couldn’t imagine how horrible it must’ve been when they’d swoop over a village, burning everything in sight.
“We train them from the time they slip from their seed,” he added. “And continue to breed only those who don’t possess fire.”
“You own all of them?”
“No one owns a vox. They allow us to work with them. A few untrained beasts exist, but we’ve driven them far enough away they no longer seek us.”
