Page 96 of Golden Queen (Idrigard #1)

We walked for a time as I felt my chest seem to cave in on itself, being drawn into where that gold fire of his now seemed haloed around my heart. My shoulders seemed to follow until I felt myself curling inward protectively.

Pushing it all aside in a desperate attempt to get enough air in my lungs, I took a deep breath and forced a smile. When I thought I might be able to trust my voice not to break, I said, "Tell me about the Alumbrian witches."

Jhol laughed. "Amon would kill me!" But then he stopped and leaned in conspiratorially.

"They were traveling between Maldur and Antiope and somehow lost sight of the river on the Ryman plain.

They had come most of the way to Dragon's Reach before they realized.

The coven's Prime was a tall, desperately beautiful witch called Desdatule who took a special interest in the size of a. .."

"Are you finding everything to your liking, Sera?" Io's deep voice cut in.

Jhol's mouth snapped closed.

The vampire looked slightly taken aback as we turned to see the Lord of Darkwatch framed in the doorway with his hands in his pockets and that wicked grin on his gorgeous face.

"I was just showing Sera the training yard." Jhol said breezily.

"And filling her head full of lies, I'm sure."

"Lies!" Jhol said with mock offense. "Accuse me thus and I shall finish telling her exactly what you did with Desdatule!"

"Scoundrel!" Io said, as he strode down the few steps to meet us. "Don't listen to a word he says. I have never even looked twice at an Alumbrian witch."

I knew he was lying, of course. The corners of his lips were twitching. But I wasn't at all disappointed by the interruption. The realization of how much I did not want to hear about Desdatule had come to me belatedly.

Jhol left us shortly after Io returned, saying he would leave me in the capable hands of the Lord of Darkwatch to show me the rest of the house.

He gave Io a wink and a pat on the shoulder as he left.

"I like him," I told Io when he had gone.

"I think he likes you, too," he said, studying me intently.

"Does he live in Dragon's Reach?" I asked, pointedly ignoring everything else in my mind for the moment.

"He lives in the city—in Meroway."

"Oh," I replied. I had forgotten about the city in the mountain. "Is Meroway far?"

I noticed his eyes had grown even more intent, and a slow smile was spreading as he looked at me.

"What?" I demanded.

He shook his head. "Nothing, and no, Meroway is just on the other side of the Reach."

His hands were back in his pockets as he motioned behind him. He was moving closer, stalking closer, really. Before I knew it, he was in front of me, so close I could smell him—like fire with no smoke; hot and wicked.

"Do you like it here, Sera?" he asked, looking down at me with those eyes.

"I do, very much. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful." I slipped my arms beneath his coat and around his waist, feeling the solid planes of his sides and back.

That smile spread across his face—the one that had been my undoing from the start.

It was a rare smile, and one I realized I had never seen on his face unless he was looking at me.

The thought sent a jolt of something near panic through me.

Panic that I could never live up to the way he looked at me—because I was not his mate. It would all crumble around us.

I imagined that Aben and Britaxia had reached Orin by then. Behr would have already begun calling his armies back from Windemere so that he could send them against this wonderful man who was so gods damned happy to have me in his home.

He reached down and tipped my chin up, looking at me with a raised brow. "Sera, talk to me."

“I’m worried, Io.”

“Don’t be. It will all be sorted soon.”

“Let’s go and sort it now—to the citadel.” The sooner we could have the bond confirmed—or denied—the better. Existing in limbo was impossible.

He laughed. "Everyone is sleeping. It's very late."

"How can you even tell when it's always night?"

"You have to watch the moon," he said, pointing a finger skyward. "But...when there is no moon, well then you just have to use a clock." He nodded to the exceptionally large clock on the wall.

I realized there were indeed clocks all over the palace. I felt like an idiot. Even Jhol had had a pocket watch handy.

"Take me to bed then, Io. Now that I know it's late, I'm suddenly very tired." I laid my head against his chest as exhaustion seemed to blanket me all at once.

He led me around the inside of the mountain again, holding me close to his side.

"Are there no servants here?" I asked when we reached the main hall and began to ascend a wide staircase.

"No." He looked slightly apologetic as he admitted, "I had a tendency to scare them quite a bit when I was younger—entirely by accident," he added quickly.

"They didn't like the way the entire place grew dark when my thoughts did. They come mostly when I’m away.

They still serve meals, but they generally wait until I call upon them. "

I knew people had been scared of him, but I had somehow come to believe it was their own superstitions at play. I had to admit being unexpectedly blinded by shadow magic might be a bit disconcerting.

"I'm certain they would come back now though, if you would prefer to have servants."

"No," I said quickly. "I like that we’re alone." It was true. I hadn’t realized how nice it would be to do things for myself until I had been away from Albiyn for a while.

Io pointed out a few rooms as we passed through a long hallway; the library, his study, another sitting room, bed chambers. At the end of the hall were two identical white doors, side-by-side in the wall.

"Yours," he said, indicating the door on the right. My heart thudded in my chest until he added, "And ours." He reached for the door on the left and opened it, allowing me to pass.

He didn’t need to ask if I wanted to share his room. Of course I would not be sleeping alone. Neither of us would need to sleep alone again.

My heart thundered in my chest again as I saw the room.

It was our room, down to the tiniest detail, just as I had seen it in my dream of that other life that might have been.

The smooth stone tiles of the floor were covered in thick rugs, the enormous bed draped in curtains of dark blue and white.

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled one entire corner. Comfortable furniture was spread around, creating individual spaces, and of course, the massive fireplace sat opposite the bed with its fire already burning bright.

I took a few steps into the room. It was carved from the inside of the mountain with bare rock arching up to a high-domed ceiling hung with massive dark chandeliers.

The only side that wasn’t mountain was that huge wall of windows—glass double doors opening onto a terrace made from a jutting ledge of the mountain itself.

I didn’t need to look to know it was the ledge my feet had been tipping over in that dream.

I turned from the sight of that ledge, deciding to ignore it for the rest of what that dream had yielded. I found myself in his arms in our room—in our home—in the mountain—under the devastatingly beautiful Darkwatch sky.

We ate a simple meal left for us on a silver tray at the bedside—cold cuts of chicken, cheese, and soft bread.

As he laid me atop all those impossibly soft furs, my heart cried out that I could make that dream real. I could have that life I had glimpsed in my dream. I only needed to trust him.

Afterward, he fell asleep inside me. We lay on our sides, facing each other, with my leg hooked over his hip.

I could not take my eyes off him. He looked so peaceful in sleep, his brow smoothed of the tension that always seemed to lace his features in the day. He was still and calm, as though the shadows that writhed just beneath his skin were only truly cleared away in unconsciousness.

I looked at his closed eyes with their heavy fringe of dark lashes that cast such a long shadow on his cheeks in the warm firelight. I fiercely wished he would open them—that he would look at me with that adoring gaze. I somehow knew it would be as bright as the daytime sky.

When I finally slept, I dreamed of that life I should have had, but it was disjointed and wrong.

Sometimes we were in Albiyn, and the babe I cradled in my arms was pale and fish-like.

Its tiny fingers were webbed by translucent film, and the sharp fin down its back poked into my arms, cutting me as I tried to hold the child.

Other times, we were in the godsgrass, and I could not find Io, Arkadian, or Tatana. Even Franca was in the tall grass somewhere…in danger…hurt or...I frantically ran, pushing aside the godsgrass as it sliced into the backs of my arms, cutting me to the bone.

I woke with a start, heart racing. I was not filled with the terror or the roiling nausea that came from the other dreams, though.

These dreams didn’t mean anything. There was nothing in them of the memory of my trauma or of prophecy and divination.

They were just stupid, disjointed, ridiculous nightmares.

Waiting for my heartbeat to normalize, I realized Io was hard inside me again. When his hands slid down my body, I moved on him, letting the feel of him inside me and the soaring of my heartbeat for an entirely different reason, chase away the dreams.

He was absolutely everything to me as I watched him shift and rise over me.

His powerful body blotted out the room, the scent of him on every ragged inhalation.

The sound of him whispering my name, the feel of him moving inside me, lips, tongue, teeth exploring me, big fingers by turns softly caressing and roughly holding me—pulling me to him with his hands wreathed in golden fire.

When I slept again, it was the shuddering of my pleasure-wracked body that chased me into unconsciousness.

I did not dream again. I floated in some peaceful void of endless darkness with only the light of the aurora for company.

I thought I could almost...very nearly…hear the music that made them dance.