Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
My bite of pastry tries to claw its way up my throat.
“You were asleep for quite a while,” Firo says, oblivious to the dagger he’s thrust through my heart.
Luthian won’t look up from his plate. “She had quite an ordeal in the maze.”
“So you said.” Firo looks me up and down. “You’re all right now, though?”
I nod with enthusiasm I don’t feel. “The king is going to take me riding later today.”
“From what I understand, he’s quite—”
“Smitten?” I reach for my glass. “So I’ve heard.”
Firo laughs. “You’ve truly taken the court by storm. If I was a betting man, I would wager you’ll have a crown on your head by the end of the summer.”
“That long?” I press a hand to my chest in mock offense, proud of myself for not dissolving into tears. Firo is my friend. My acquaintance, at least. I don’t want him to be my romantic rival.
You flatter yourself. My own mind sneers at me. You really believed that Luthian could be, what? Growing to love you? He’s giving you away to the prince. He only cares about what he’ll gain.
I’ve been so stupid.
My chair makes a terrible scrape when I stand, startling both Luthian and Firo. I pretend not to notice. “I can’t eat. I need to decide what I’ll wear. What time do you think I’ll be summoned?”
“I’m sure you have time—” Luthian begins.
My laugh is somewhat hysterical. “Better to be prepared. I never know when those sylphs will appear.”
“This is why she’s a much better student than I,” Firo says, giving Luthian a slow smile that sears my heart like a flaming blade.
I cannot bear to watch more. I run from the room, feigning eagerness until I’m safely behind my bedroom door.
Only then do I let myself cry.
* * * *
The dragon is easily the height of a house, and as wide. I gape up at it, unable to speak when confronted with such breathtaking size and beauty. Its scales are red, flashing with a gold and green iridescence as the light plays off them. The fearsome beast’s talons are black and deadly sharp, each one as tall as I am. The dragon kneads the ground like a cat and rubs its face into the grass with a distinctly feline purr that shakes and trembles the soil beneath my feet.
“I thought you meant horses, Your Majesty.” I mean it to be teasing and coy, but I can’t help the wonder in my voice.
Arcus grins, pleased with his own largesse.
“If it helps,” a deep, lazy voice booms overhead, “I did eat several horses for lunch.”
It isn’t shocking to me that a dragon can speak, but knowing a fact and experiencing the truth of it are two vastly different concepts. My mouth falls open, and Arcus closes it playfully with a finger beneath my chin. “A ride on horseback is too simple for you and requires too many guards for adequate privacy. I long to have you alone, Cenere. Away from the palace, where too many can overhear.”
“Your Majesty flatters me,” I demure.
Instead of a saddle, a large wicker basket is strapped firmly to the beast, anchored by thick iron rings that pierce two of the horned protrusions dividing its back in a serrated line. I look about for a ladder, then realize my foolishness. Of course there is no ladder. The king can fly.
“Shall we?” Arcus asks me, and without waiting for an answer, scoops me into his arms and takes to the sky. I am no stranger to flying; my mother took me up above the trees to survey the whole of our manor when I was a child. I loved flying, then. When I came of age and it became apparent to me that I wouldn’t sprout wings of my own, it became torture, and I refused to fly again.
My heart aches at those refusals. What I wouldn’t give to be in my mother’s arms, experiencing the exhilaration of not only flight, but her unconditional and all-consuming love for me.
No one will ever love me in that way again.
Arcus lands us in the basket, the walls of which are tall enough that we won’t be swept out. They’re lined with black velvet, and mounds of cushions surround a picnic laid out on fine red brocade.
I’m more concerned with those rings pierced through the dragon’s flesh. “Oh, dragon. Doesn’t that hurt you?”
The beast turns its head back on its long neck, bringing me disturbingly close to one giant, yellow eye, and its mouth full of impossibly long teeth. “Such tender care. I didn’t believe I would meet a human today. You’re much kinder than our stories would suggest.”
I feel its voice through my feet.
The dragon goes on. “No. The rings don’t hurt me. There is no feeling in these plates.”
“Like fingernails.” I hold up my hand to show it.