The Dragon Prince's Promise (Dragongrove Book 5) Page 7

  He watched her for a long moment. She was keenly aware of his gaze on her eyes, and her cheeks, and her mouth. “That’s true,” he acknowledged.

  “How did you come to be here?” she asked.

  He sighed. “Tell me about your queen, and I’ll tell you about mine.”

  She wondered what he was getting at, but decided to play his game. “She’s...formidable. Good at what she does. She’s always been kind to me, even after...” she trailed off and took a deep breath. “Even after I lied to her, after I betrayed her.”

  “Will she truly have my head?” he asked, a slight smile on his face.

  Elsie stared into the fire and kicked her feet back and forth where they dangled off the bench. “That seems unlikely,” she said. She turned to him with an impish look. “Please don’t kill me, regardless.”

  The smiles between them had become so easy, over the last few weeks. Sometime she would be returning to her little cave with a bucket of water in hand, and she would catch his eye across the camp, and he would grin at her. Sometimes they would be talking next to the fire, as they did then, and he would say something ridiculous that had her laughing and thinking that she could continue on, just like this. She was surprised, then, when he didn’t return her smile. He just stared into the flames; he was clearly in another time and place. “My queen—the old queen was...radiant. She was kind, she was generous, she was forgiving, but she was more than that. She was the embodiment of all the goodness in these lands.”

  “You knew her?” Elsie asked.

  He nodded slightly, but didn’t say anything, didn’t tear his gaze from the fire, where he was seeing things long forgotten. “When she died, that goodness fled with her.”

  “Was that when—when all of the ladies did, too?” She felt intensely uncomfortable acknowledging the painful past, intensely uncomfortable acknowledging the way it had shaped this harsh, forlorn world.

  He nodded again. “That was when I came here. I’d lived at the palace all my life—” he cast a sidelong glance at her, and surely caught her raised eyebrows, “—but it was too much. So I came here.”

  “Why here, though?” she asked.

  “That’s a story for another time,” he said, finally breaking his attention from the flames. “I’ll tell you another time.”

  She was satisfied with that, because—she believed him. It was a revelation to her that she did believe him, that she trusted him; it had come on so gradually. He hadn’t proven himself to be a liar, not even once. Her thoughts stretched back over her life, and she couldn’t think of a single man, save her father, that she’d ever learned to trust. Not one had given her a reason to, not until that moment.

  “Tell me more about your queen, then.” She wanted him to keep talking, because when he was finished, he would turn from her and retreat to his cave, and she wouldn’t speak to him again until the next night. She didn’t want an entire day to pass before being allowed to speak to him again.

  “I knew her all my life,” he said with a wry smile, although Elsie wasn’t sure why. “She was...good. The king was not, but he loved her, so she was always undermining him in little ways. I remember, once, there was a servant girl who’d snatched something from the queen’s personal jewelry collection. I don’t remember what exactly, but just some trinket that she wouldn’t have missed. She was caught, of course, the chamberlain was quite fastidious about knowing what was where. The king wanted her put to death, for such a grievous insult to his mate, but the queen soothed him, and talked him down to just dismissing her. She couldn’t bear the thought of sending out the disgraced servant, though. She knew that the girl would never find work again, because everyone knew that she’d stolen from the queen. So the queen emptied half her collection of little baubles into the girl’s bag before she left, to ensure that she could take care of herself.”

  Elsie’s eyes were wide. “Was the king very angry?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, “but not at her. He could never stay angry at her.”

  “She sounds brave.”

  He smiled faintly. “She was a force to be reckoned with—in her own quiet way.”

  “You loved her,” Elsie felt herself saying. She said it gently; she meant it kindly. She tried to soften it further by flashing a smile at him, but he wasn’t looking at her.

  “I did,” he said. “I do. She was my mother.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, her breath catching. And then again, “Oh. You know they’re looking for you?” She didn’t know what else to say.

  “That seemed likely,” he said, but he was already standing. “Good night, El.”

  And then he disappeared from the warm glow of the fire, back into the inky blackness, back into the dark place in which he lived.

  •••••

  Elsie sat in front of the fire, perched on the rock where she usually ate. She had a mission, and she needed Tate’s help. She’d already decided to let him ignore everything he’d said the night before, if that was what he wished—if it helped her to get what she needed, then all the better. He clearly didn’t want to be discovered by his family, and she found herself sympathetic to his situation. He had a right to privacy.

  “You smell nice,” she said, and the look he gave her was so piercing that she added, “for a member of this tribe.” She didn’t need the qualifier; he smelled lovely. Like smoke and earth and something sweet and alive. Like the forest after the rain.

  He laughed slightly at that, and she could see the relief on his face. He didn’t want to talk about what he’d admitted to the night before, either.

  She continued. “I assume you’re the man to ask, then. I’ve been washing with freezing water from a bucket, and I can’t think of many things that I wouldn’t do for something a little more thorough. I probably shouldn’t jump in the river if I don’t want to be swept away, and the stream is too shallow—and too wet to light a fire nearby, which I would certainly need to do if I don’t want to freeze to death. Is there any kind of...I don’t know, pond or lake or something nearby? I would dearly love to be submerged in water, even if it’s just for a minute.”

  He watched her quietly, and was silent for so long that she was worried she’d asked for something ridiculous. She’d felt as if they were growing into friends, as if her request wasn’t necessarily too much, but sharp gaze on her made her want to take it back.

  “Sorry,” she began, “I shouldn’t have—”

  He interrupted her. “The day after tomorrow, if you’re up early—” he smiled slyly at her, “—before midday, if you’re capable of that. I’ll have some time to take you somewhere that you can have a bath.”

  She found herself grinning. “Truly? An actual bath?”

  “If you’re up before midday.”

  She scowled at him, but a moment later her smile had returned. “Just for that, I’ll be up early enough to wake you. I’ve always been the first of the queen’s ladies to be up,” she said. “I like to keep a sensible schedule. But the longer I’m here the more pointless it feels. There’s never anything to do in the morning.”

  “I suppose there’s not much here for you to do, regardless.”

  “I don’t mean to complain,” she said with a sideways glance at him. “Well, sort of. It was easier with Juliette here, which makes me feel awful to say—but I like to feel useful, and I find that very hard to do here.”

  “I look for you every morning,” he murmured, so quietly that as soon as he said it she wondered if she imagined it.

  “What do you do all day?” she asked, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them. Usually the massive fire was enough to keep her from being too chilled, but it seemed as if each night was colder than the last.

  “I have...different responsibilities, depending on the day,” he said.

  She sighed and rolled a strand of hair between her fingers. “But what kinds? I don’t think you understand what I’m asking, so let me be blunt: I’m bored. Let me help you.”

  He
chuckled. “I would let you help if you could—truly,” he said.

  “Well if I’m so incapable, what is it that you do?”

  He was quiet for a minute. “I told you that only a human could train to be a mage, and that’s true. No one of my kind could become master of all the elements, not like they train to do. But some of us have more...innate abilities.”

  “Like the king’s healing?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yes. He was born with the ability, he was able to use it quite early and without needing to practice. There’s some nuance, of course, but it’s not at all like what the human mages do.”

  She nodded.

  “I was born attuned to the earth. It was an odd kind of thing, when you’re a creature that’s meant to be in the sky. My earliest memories are of feeling the rocks rumbling under my feet. I can’t do amazing feats, but I can communicate—” he shook his head, “—that’s the wrong word. I can influence certain things, deep in the rocks and the earth.”

  She stared into the fire as he spoke. She could feel how close he was; far closer than he usually sat. There was perhaps an inch between their shoulders, and she could swear that she could feel every electrified speck of air between them.

  “You’ve noticed the smoke?” he asked, gesturing in the night to where she knew the great peak lay.

  She nodded again.

  “I try to keep it in check. That’s what I do all day. The peak is...straining under pressure, yearning to break free and cover this entire mountainside with sheets of lava. I can always feel it, and sometimes I don’t know if it’s me or the mountain that’s ready to erupt. So that’s my task here—to prevent the natural course of nature. It makes me sick, sometimes, to not just let the earth do what it needs, but I’m beholden to an...arrangement.”

  She covered her mouth and chewed her lip. “Is that why it feels so wrong here?” she asked. “I thought it was just the smell, at first, but the longer I’m here the worse it is. It makes me want to run.”

  “You feel that?” he asked, his shoulder pressing against hers, now. She liked it so much that she had to make a conscious effort to not press further into him.

  She nodded. “Why don’t these people leave? Surely there are other desolate wastelands where they can be pompous about their species.”

  He laughed out loud at that. “There are, but this one is sacred. I’ll tell you about that too,” he promised. “I’ll tell you why I came here and I’ll tell you why we can’t leave. But not right now.”

  “When, then?” she asked.

  “When I have to,” he said. “Which I fear will be much sooner than I’d hoped.”

  “You’re very cryptic, you know,” she murmured, watching him from the corner of her eye.

  “That’s probably true.”

  She paused for a moment. “Why am I here?” she asked quietly, for what must have been the hundredth time.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to catch himself. Instead he just gazed at her, facing her, and the way the light from the flames danced across his face and the heat from the fire mingled with the heat from his body left her...breathless. Just for a moment.

  “You can add it to your list of questions,” she said, ignoring her pounding heart. “But I would like to know eventually.”

  “Eventually,” he repeated quietly.

  Fourteen

  Tate seemed intent on burying Elsie in layers. He’d told her that the place they were going was only ten minutes away by air. She was concerned about the ‘by air’ part, given her last time in the sky, but if she’d managed to survive nearly an entire day in nothing but a nightgown, surely she didn’t need multiple cloaks, and blankets wrapped around her.

  “Your hair will be wet, afterward,” he reminded her. “It will be colder on the way back.”

  She grinned and laughed. “I don’t think I’ll be putting my head under any water around here. I just want to rinse off, not catch my death.”

  He made an odd, knowing face that she ignored.

  It was incredible, she thought, what a difference it made being on top of, rather than underneath, a dragon. Up there she was buffered from the frigid wind, and while their talons held no heat at all his back was delightfully warm. She found herself sliding around, trying to arrange herself so that she was secure, but also so that as much of him was touching her as possible. Even through her thick layers of clothes, his heat seeped down into her bones.

  The ten minutes passed more quickly than she thought it had, especially with the lovely personal heater directly below her. She was almost disappointed when they landed on the rocky shore of a small pond, the top miraculously not iced over. She wondered at that a moment, as she slid down off of his back, slipped on her feet and landed on her bottom. She laughed at herself as she did, but then Tate was a man again and he was...distracting.

  He was massive, which she knew, of course, but it was different in the stark light of day. She’d only ever seen him in the orange firelight, or the dim gray light of the caves. His face was different, too—but in a way that she didn’t quite understand. The set of his jaw was the same, the beautiful shape of his face, the infuriating way that his hair hung in his eyes. His eyes, though—they were gray—a spring storm. She’d always thought they were dark.

  It didn’t help that he was nude, which she somehow missed until he reached in the bag she’d carried and rummaged around for pants. Her cheeks burned and she turned away, uncomfortable at the way she’d been openly staring.

  “No one else from the tribe seems to care about clothing,” she said, breaking the silence that was growing increasingly uncomfortable.

  “Yes, well,” he said from behind her, “I suppose old habits die hard. I assume everyone at the palace still likes to dress in their ridiculous finery?”

  “I happen to like that ridiculous finery,” she retorted. “But yes, for the most part. There’s more nudity than you would see in human lands, but nothing at all like here.”

  “Dressed,” he said, so she turned around. He was technically dressed, she supposed, with pants covering all of the intimidating bits, but...his bare chest and arms were distracting. His arms were corded with thick muscle, his abdomen hard and distracting. She wanted to touch him, wanted to run her hands down his front, so badly that she squeezed them into fists to distract herself.

  “The other reason I wear clothing,” he said, looking amused, “is that I can hear your heartbeat. I know it makes you uncomfortable.”

  She scowled at him. “It does not. Anyway, I want to bathe.”

  He gestured out over the lake. “Bathe away, sweetheart,” he said, his mocking nickname grating on her. She sighed at him and began to peel off her outermost layers, still far from exposed.

  She stared out over the pond, trying not to think of her uneven breathing or her thundering heart betraying her. She could scarcely see the opposite side of it, although the distance to it wasn’t so very great. Her vision was obscured by fog, or—steam?

  “Is this heated?” she asked, turning to him, unable to keep the grin from her face.

  “It’s a hot spring,” he said. “One of the few beneficial side effects of volcanic activity.”

  She laughed at that, and then hurried out of her layers of clothing so quickly that she forgot to even be embarrassed when she pulled her nightgown over her head, and stepped nude into the lovely warm water. It enveloped her, and for the first time in a month, she was warm. She leaned her head back, soaking her hair, covering her ears, submerging herself all the way to her nose. The silkiness the water caressed her all over, and she was so delighted that it was several minutes before she even glanced at Tate.

  He was facing away from her, his breaths turning to fog in the air and blowing away over his shoulder in the slight breeze.

  “You’re not having a bath?” she said. “It’s very nice.”

  “No,” she heard him say, still facing the other direction.

  She giggled to herself. “You can turn ar
ound at least, I’m up to my neck.”

  He did, and his eyes widened slightly as he took her in. She knew her hair looked ridiculous floating in a long sheet behind her. “You look so...you look like a siren,” was all he said.

  “It’s very nice,” she said again. “You brought me all the way here; have a bath.”

  “I know it’s nice,” he said. “I come here when I can. I don’t want to make you...uncomfortable.” He was averting his eyes in a way that did make her uncomfortable, but at the moment she didn’t think that there was anything in the world that she wanted more than to be naked in the water with him.

  “I wouldn’t invite you if I was uncomfortable,” she said, and grinned at him until he looked at her again. “I’ll even turn around so I don’t offend your delicate sensibilities.” She spun in the water and made a show of holding her hands up over her eyes.

  He didn’t respond, but a moment later she heard the water ripple, and felt the way it washed over her, brushing against her ears. She turned to face him again.

  “I think this might be the nicest place in the world,” she said. “I would come here everyday if I had wings.”

  “I used to,” he said, watching her strangely. “Before things with the land were so bad, and I was stuck in the caves to manage it all day. When I first came here it only took a few minutes a day. Now it’s hard for me to be away for even a few hours.”

  “That’s awful,” she murmured without much feeling. It was hard to feel bad about anything while she was floating in the water. She smiled impishly at him. “Well, I know how I think you should spend your few free hours every day—here, with me.”

  He laughed at that, but it was different from his usual laugh. It was tighter, burying something beneath it.

  She studied his expression unashamedly. He wanted her, she thought. He was careful not to stare at her face, to look away when he could, but otherwise...he watched her all the time. Looking away from her seemed to be something that he had to do consciously. That pleased her. She was desperate for him, she had been since that night when he’d asked permission and brushed his fingers across her nose and along her shoulder and everywhere that she could still feel; his touch had been that searing.