Page 53

“I said the dragons were mine when they’re yours.” He deserved the grace in knowing there was no guilt, no blame. We’d both made mistakes and would make more.

Kion reached for a small ball of scented soap and rubbed suds over his hand, then his arm, moving to his chest as if I wasn’t aware of every slosh of water or the rising scent of the soap. The slippery sounds as his hand moved. “And now you’re a high mage.”

“Of the Stone Tower,” I agreed, cupping the water and letting it trickle between my fingers.

“Must have shocked your king.”

I laughed softly. “Tarian was disappointed. He hoped for Silk, the pliable little girl. Halla Taja choked on her anger when she found out, although Anneli hasn’t trained me in the finer arts of the high mage.”

I could spin veils of privacy and send wyverns on their way with a pitiful fire raining from my fingertips. The magic was far more powerful than what I’d had before the ritual. But the battle waiting ahead…I had much to learn.

Scooping my palms into the water, I focused on the streams trickling between my fingers. Breathing in the soapy scent relaxed me, but it could have been the warmth of the bath, the strength of a man’s body, and the dance of the nearby fire that sent lethargy seeping through my muscles.

Kion leaned forward to sluice his face. “I can teach you magic.”

“As the Draakon.” I splashed water in his direction. “But is it strong enough? After all, I killed a styrmir worm when you didn’t.”

He twisted around, arched one eyebrow. “Were you blindfolded?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t count, then.”

My smile hurt my face. “I knew you’d be jealous.”

He barked out a laugh. “Hardly.”

“Your ego is as big as Sarnorinth’s.”

“Says the woman who talks to wyverns like they’re pets.”

I splashed more water, reaching for the soap he held out of my reach, curling my fingers, then opening them. “Share. Unless you like the smell of the horse.”

His grin turned crooked, but he handed over the creamy soap .

“This is nice,” I murmured.

“The women make it from a local plant.”

I stared at the tapestries on the stone walls, the furnishings that offered a quiet elegance and comfort. “You said this was the ancient stronghold, a seat of power for the Draakons.”

“Draakons still need a place of their own, where their lives feel normal. Over the centuries, Aram Dun became a refuge. A place of healing after the…transformation.”

“The dragons used dragon fire,” I said.

He nodded. I could imagine the time needed for healing.

I’d needed weeks after the Stone Tower ritual, and all I’d battled were illusions.

I still needed time. A draakon was fundamentally changed by his ordeal, although…

so was I. My lifespan was longer. My magic stronger. My emotions where…scattered.

I asked, “How long did you live here?”

“A few decades.”

“Wasn’t it lonely?”

“Yes. But I needed the solitude. I still come here when I can.”

After a moment, I twisted around and used my hands to flood the water over his shoulders. Then I slid the soap across his skin. My fingers pressed against his back, against the scars I saw there.

Streams of soapy bubbles coated his skin and mine. He’d stiffened at the first touch, but then his posture settled, and I asked, “Why am I here, Kion?”

“I want you here,” he said .

“To wash your back?” My voice wavered, but he hadn’t asked for the help. I’d offered.

My pulse beat once, twice, before I said, “Anneli tells me I’ll need to support myself. I can’t depend on the Stone Tower or Halla Taja unless I sign a contract with them.”

His shoulders stiffened. “Anneli has her own view of life.”

“She said it’s quite lucrative to become a man’s lover.” I trickled water until I’d flushed the soap away. “Better than healing sick cows.”

Kion leaned forward. “Did you see any cows who needed healing?”

I rose from the water, stepping from the tub to reach the folded cloth waiting nearby, a thick, nubby material that brushed against my skin as I wrapped it around.

“Why am I here, Kion?” I repeated, focusing on the knot I tied above my breasts.

“If there’s a contract to be made, explain the options.

Do you want a high mage when you already have an equal power?

Or do you want a lover? Perhaps a prisoner.

Am I to be caged, so I won’t tempt your dragons, lure them away? ”

He’d twisted around, his eyes unreadable as he braced an arm on his upraised knee. “Do you have a preference?”

I moistened my lips. “I’d rather not be a curse to you, a penance demanded by dragons who could not possibly understand what they’re doing. Say what you want. Don’t ask me to guess.”

He rose from the bath like an ancient God, his body streaming water that ran in rivulets over his flat stomach, down his thighs. A mocking, glinting light edged the curse tablet flat against his chest.

“If I wanted a lover,” he asked, “what would you say?”

“I would say for how long and at what price.”

“What should I offer, Sen?” His voice had deepened to a rough purr that still threatened.

“What does a High Mage of the Stone Tower demand for her services these days? What fortunes do you wish to amass? What enemies should I destroy for you? How would you want to spend your nights? In your lonely bed, or mine?”

His stare was impossible to hold but too addictive to ignore; I tightened my grip on the cloth. “I’m not sure what I want.”

“Then tell me what you don’t want.”

“I don’t want to be the disturbance in your life.”

“I don’t want that either,” he said, “but here I am, always chasing after you. Finding you. Disturbed…by you.” He stood close enough to loosen my fingers and stare at the fading scars on my palms. “Who cut you like this?”

“I did it to myself.” I wouldn’t talk about the illusion that included him. “In the Stone Tower. The mages wanted blood as part of their ritual, and I decided the blood would be mine.”

Ferocity drove his breathing. “They’re old and corrupted by magic and self-interest. Treacherous.”

Camael Soget flashed into my mind, and I said, “Not all of them.”

“I should have protected you.”

My heart pattered. But …

“I battled an illusion,” I said. “One I created, and you could do nothing. It was the price I willingly paid for this power. Being a High Mage.”

“Was it worth it?” He parted the cloth edges enough to trace the mage star etched into my skin. “What you sacrificed for this?”

“Was it worth it to you?” I countered. “What the dragons did to make you the Draakon?”

“I was protecting those I love.”

“So was I.”

A muscle tightened near his mouth. “You lost the chance for a normal life.”

“So did you,” I said gently. “But while I can, I’ll memorize every moment. Remind myself when I forget.”

His palm pressed against the black star before he drew his hand away. “What will you cherish the most?”

“The perfect day with Bogo. When we played in the mud and you laughed while your eyes glittered with love.”

“A Draakon cannot love.”

“But he can remember love,” I said, hoping the words were true. “And if I could grant you one wish, something that mattered. If I could offer you solace, would you take it?”

“Sen…”

I rose on my toes and kissed him.

“Please don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not asking for anything.

I’ll be your lover for a night or a year, if that’s what you want.

Heal sick cows and defend against all enemies.

I’ll leave when you tell me to go, but I will never betray your dragons.

Not Sarnorinth or Bogo. Lassa or any of the others.

No more like Tova, dying alone in the mud. No fledglings lured from their homes.

“And I will find my brother,” I added. “Defeat Tarian, if I must. Fight the red priests and the Stone Tower, and anyone else who would use me. Make them fear the Skyborne mage.”

Kion stood frozen; I wasn’t sure if he was breathing.

But he loosened my hair from the loops Anneli worked so hard to fashion.

I breathed in when he untangled the strands, smoothing until my hair fell like damp silk against my shoulders, along my spine.

The stroking continued; he drew his palms down my arms as if soothing me, then he bent his head, brushed his mouth against mine.

“I remember,” he murmured, before his restraint broke and his lips crushed mine.

The taste of him, the heat rippling from his body…I stopped thinking about the cloth, let the material fall to the stone floor where it tangled around our feet.

He backed me away from the fire, desperate. We knocked against a table. Something clattered to the floor as Kion cleared the space, lifted me onto the surface.

He leaned in, forcing my legs to part. His fingers tightened in my hair; the pressure tipped my head back and our mouths battled, tongues and lips. The sound of breathing became heady. Gripping him wasn’t enough.

My hands flexed against the banded muscles in his shoulders.

His mouth raked down my throat, across my collar bones.

“Sen…”

“Your name for me. ”

“Mine,” he said against my lips.

Bath water remained on my skin. The same for him, and the moisture kept us locked together in an erotic contest. I breathed in his air, the way I had when he’d saved me from drowning…and he was saving me again, drawing a new life into being, two monsters sharing the same glorious abyss.

Two people filling the loneliness with their private demons. What they’d given up…what they still tried to find.

I cradled his head, held him, losing myself in his fathomless gaze, in the depths he hid from others.

The glow of firelight gilded the curve of his shoulders.

His silvered hair was wild around his beautiful face; I reached, stroking back the strands where they fell across his forehead.

Gloried in the smoldering passion burning brighter than starlight in his eyes.

“You are…beautiful,” he said.

“So are you.”

My breasts ached against his palms. Each brush of his fingers tightened the skin until my nipples pebbled and throbbed.

“Kion…”