Page 24 of Fated Flames: Volume Two
Beside me, Soren takes a sharp breath. Whether it’s one of anger, disapproval, or some other unpleasant sensation, I can’t say. I do know a princess who isn’t yet queen shouldn’t be negotiating with enemies. And yet I see the turmoil in the wyverns’ eyes, the thirst to accept.
With a working of his jaw, Seltzen finally responds.
“That isn’t an option,” he says.
I have never met with such obstinance, and I do nothing to hide my distaste, taking a stride forward and dragging Soren alongside me. “So you wish to rule these people, but you would deny them a free offer of water?”
“They aren’tpeople, woman,” Seltzen rumbles. “They’re dragons.”
“Then dragons. You wish to win the throne and let them die of thirst beneath your feet? What type of ruler sinks so low?”
Seltzen tilts his head, scrutinizing me like one would a fresh goat for their herd. My skin crawls, and though I hold my ground, I have the sudden urge to step behind Soren, to duck down and hide myself.
“It seems you’re as mouthy as Tallin said,” Seltzen says.
“Oh, she’s got a barbed tongue, that one.” This comes from the wyvern at Seltzen’s left, and for the first time, I notice it’s the cheeky one who waved at me last time with his clawed wing.
Seltzen lifts a shoulder. “Doesn’t matter to me. She’ll be Tallin’s to deal with.”
Fear and revulsion seep through every vein. He won't accept my offer because he’s not here for himself.
He’s here to win for Lord Tallin, and I’m part of the deal.
My hand is suddenly released, guards swarm about me, and faster than I would believe possible, Soren is there before Seltzen, his broad figure dwarfed by the wyvern’s bulk. I feel a split second’s fear for my dragon king.
Until, with a single hand, he slams the wyvern to the ground by his throat.
I watch with astonished eyes as Seltzen fights to breathe, as the king leans into his face.
“I accept your challenge, wyvern,” the king says. “Please do get a good night’s rest. That way you can tell Lord Tallin you gave it yourverybest.”
These final words he emphasizes by shoving the wyvern deeper into the sand while his comrades look on with rage. Soren doesn’t spare them a glance. Straightening, he dusts himself off and leaves Seltzen gasping in the newly-created hole.
I stare as Soren comes to me, takes my hand in his, and continues toward the tent.
“Now, Princess,” he says, “about that cake…”
10
The night is a strange one.
Upon our return, Soren does call for cake, and while a host of servants transform the interior of the tent into a bedchamber rivaling my own in the palace, we enjoy a delightful discussion on favorite desserts, with the king speaking with particular animation of a decadent pudding he once enjoyed in the distant kingdom of Gallent.
Once the servants leave, however, he quiets, and after bidding me a good night, spreads out on a rug beside the bed and says nothing more, leaving me mystified.
Until I remember how I undermined him in front of his entire kingdom.
Hiln arrives alone soon after and helps ready me for bed. She makes no comment on the king’s sleeping arrangements; she doesn’t even seem to notice him.
“Sleep,” she says when she leaves.
With a sinking heart, I traipse to the bed, crawl beneath the mound of blankets and furs, and lie there, silent and shivering against the desert chill.
“Are you cold?” the king asks some time after.
“I’m all right.”
He comes anyway, slipping under the covers and arching his back against mine. I force the sharp breath that rises inmy throat out between chattering teeth. How can he possibly be so warm when the night is so cold? I’m desperate to nestle into his warmth, but he holds himself rigid, as if he’d rather not touch me. After everything that passed between us today, I thought…
