Page 86 of Silverbow (The Godsung Saga #1)

He had only wanted to deliver her to sanctuary and aside from his near failure, it suddenly didn’t feel like nearly enough.

And he didn’t have the faintest clue what to do about it.

So he sat and he watched. When a serving girl tipped a crystal decanter to refill his cup, Oryn plucked the vessel from her hands and set it on the table.

Alsbet slipped back into her chair with a laugh. “I’ve never known you to rely on liquid courage, Oryn.”

“I never needed it until I found Enya Silverbow.”

A dark brow arched. “She’s a girl, not a dragon.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Oryn muttered. “I’d rather take the dragon.”

Alsbet snorted. “Dragon or not, you should ask her to dance.”

Perhaps he should, but if she refused him, he might die in the middle of Leon’s hall.

Oryn fled the dais. Music chased him from the open front doors as he stalked across the plaza to perch atop the low stone wall.

He instinctively reached for his gifts and spun out the wielding for a barrier of air behind his back.

He leaned into it and closed his eyes, drawing in long breaths.

The chill of the mountain was cold enough to see on exhale.

Soft footsteps approached and he didn’t have to open his eyes to see who it was.

He knew the cadence of her footfalls, even in the unfamiliar satin slippers, and whatever perfume Alsbet had dabbed on her wrists couldn’t hide the crackle of dragonfire in her scent.

The hum filled his ears on top of the droning pulse from the palace.

He cracked an eye open, taking in the moonlight dancing off her pale skin. “Aren’t you cold?”

She fanned herself with a hand and turned her face up to take in the dazzling facade of the palace at night.

She reclined back far enough that Oryn extended his wall, his heart leaping.

She didn’t notice as her eyes swept over the glowing orange windows and finally up to the stars twinkling overhead.

She reached a hand up and traced a finger over the Dragon’s Fang in the north.

“I see you’ve overcome your fear of the drop,” he growled.

“It was more like a momentary hesitation.”

Whatever she wanted to call it, he wished she’d have a few more of those.

“I never thought I’d make it this far,” she said softly.

“I told you I would deliver you to Drozia.”

She smiled at that, still looking up. “You didn’t ask me to dance.”

Oryn studied her profile, shadow warring with the light that spilled from the palace. “I didn’t think you would want me to.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“I rather like my hands,” Oryn huffed.

She bit her lower lip as she smiled. “Do you like the dress?”

Oryn scrubbed a hand down his face. “I want to throw that gods damned dress back in whatever sea it crossed to get here.”

Enya huffed a breathy laugh that made him go still as death. His gifts seemed poised to run amok, simmering just beneath his skin. She rose smoothly to her feet and flashed him a wine fogged smile. “Are you coming back inside?”

He shook his head.

A pout flickered across her features. “Why not?”

“Because someone suggested my moral compass is in need of recalibration and I’ve had far too much stonebrew.”

Her laughter echoed in his ears long after she’d disappeared back into the Great Hall.

When Oryn finally returned to the feast, Leon caught his eye from where he stood with a knot of his advisors and jerked his head toward his private audience chamber.

He was glad to follow, the noise of the hall muffled behind the heavy door .

“Alsbet is rather smitten,” he growled as he settled his pipe between his teeth.

Oryn sighed heavily, lighting his own pipe. “Lady Silverbow seems to have that effect on people.”

A rumble like falling boulders came from Leon’s chest. “Just not you, brother?” He chuckled.

Oryn didn’t answer as he took a deep draw on the pipe, letting the smoke fill his lungs and chase out what the stonebrew had not.

“A message arrived today.”

“From?”

Leon puffed out several rings of smoke, watching them drift across the room. “Pallas Davolier.”

Oryn’s heart skipped a beat. “Does he know about the eggs?”

Leon shrugged. “If he does, he didn’t mention it.”

“What’s the demand?” He asked.

“The return of what belongs to him.”

Oryn’s temper flared. Enya didn’t belong to the false king. “I promised her Drozia before I realized who she was, Leon. I can take her to the Vale or-”

Leon snorted. “Doesn’t matter. I almost hope that little squatter attempts to extract her from my wife’s clutches if only for the pleasure of seeing Alsbet mount his head on the battlements.”

Oryn blew out a long breath. He would not see Tuminzar blackened the way his home had been. “There are risks, Leon.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “We’ve learned since Eastwood, strengthened the wards.

Your father was a good man, Oryn, but far too trusting.

Besides, Pallas only has one dragon and since your Silverbow saw fit to rob him of his clutch, it looks to remain that way.

We’re prepared to deal with Drulougan should he fly on Tuminzar. ”

“Thank you.”

Leon tipped his glass, his eyebrows rising. “I told Alsbet not to meddle, but the servants gossip.”

“Oh?”

Leon nodded to the hand holding his glass, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Where’s your signet ring, brother? ”

Oryn shifted in his chair. It certainly was not around her neck tonight, which meant it was likely sitting in her room for all of Alsbet’s handmaidens to see. “On loan.”

Leon chuckled. “Orimum is going to be devastated.”

“It isn’t like that, Leon.”

The Prince of Dwarves lifted a dark, bushy brow. “What is it like then?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I have time. And you have vow mark.”

Oryn blew out a stream of smoke. “Remember that bargain with Hylee Starseer?”

Leon’s eyebrows kept climbing. “Oh, I remember.”

Oryn swallowed and painted the broad strokes of their encounter with the Covwood witch. Leon whistled around his pipe, a mixture of worry and amusement muddling his features.

“Well,” he scratched at his beard. “Well…that is…”

“What would you do, if it were Alsbet?”

Leon threw back his head and roared a laugh.

“If Alsbet had seen a vision of me with another woman, there’s no place in this world with sanctuary sound enough to keep me whole.

” Leon wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, still howling.

“I’m sure you’ll find your way back into her good graces, if that’s what you want. Have you considered groveling?”

“That’s what Colm suggested.”

“Smart man, Bellami. Smart man.”

When Oryn stepped back out into the Great Hall, his chest warm from the smoke, the dancing had dissolved.

The children had been whisked off to bed and dice and cards were appearing at a number of tables with heaps of gold.

He blinked at one such heap, or rather, the woman sitting behind it.

Enya held a fan of cards in her hand. Smoke curled up from a pipe clenched between her teeth.

She looked up and grinned when his shadow fell over her.

“I’m winning.” Her words were fuzzy around the edges.

Oryn glanced around at the table. “Do you even know what this game is called?”

She shook her head, pipe wagging. The dwarf on her right leaned over and whispered in her ear. Enya grabbed the orange horntail and slapped it down on the table. Men cursed as they pushed more gold her way.

“Would you like an escort to the royal apartments, Lady Silverbow? ”

She plucked at the sheer fabric of her skirt and whispered too loudly, “How am I going to carry all this gold?”

“I’m sure that Lord Kragfall will ensure it is sent to your room.”

The dwarf nodded. “Of course, my lady. Of course.”

Enya grinned, handing the dwarf his pipe back. She threw her leg over the bench, pale skin flashing as she darted to her slippered feet. She swayed slightly and Oryn offered her an arm for the longest climb to the royal apartments he’d ever made.