Page 32 of Valor’s Flight (The New Protectorate #5)

Dragons took little more seriously than courtship. They were forward, focused, and almost impossible to dissuade once they’d laid their claim. But there was nothing, no higher compliment or greater honor, than for a dragon to be claimed first.

She didn’t know his name. She didn’t know his position. She’d claimed him as her husband by instinct alone.

Somehow, they’d known one another. They’d always known. A swelling sense of rightness threatened to expand his chest past the limits of his ribcage. It was too good to let anything else in — no doubt or fear or the instinctive revulsion that’d kept his instincts in check for over a century.

Taevas had never felt a rush like this one. He doubted he ever would again.

Whatever his problems were, there was nothing that could diminish the pure, unfiltered triumph of being hers. Already knowing the answer, he breathed, “You don’t give your blood to just anybody, do you?”

“Of course not,” she muttered, tucking the needle into the fabric so it couldn’t accidentally stick her. “That’s reserved for kin.”

“And you decided this Adon was kin without even knowing his real name? Without asking, at the very least?”

She shook her head. “It’s just a story I tell myself. I decided a long time ago that if I knew the truth about him, it’d probably ruin things anyway. What’s the harm if all I’m doing is adding extra protection?”

It took work to keep the feeling out of his voice when he asked, “Come on, you aren’t curious about him at all? Your husband?”

At last losing her patience with his prodding, Alashiya set her needle and the sash down to fix him with an exasperated look.

“Of course I am! I’ve embroidered dozens and dozens of garments for him.

I imagine what his face looks like when he opens every box.

I think about him constantly. But I’ll never know Adon, and he’d never care to know me, so it’s a sad little fantasy I shouldn’t have told you. ”

He watched her with open wonder. An incredulous laugh escaped him. “You claimed him! All without knowing anything about him. Your husband, Adon. Do you have any idea how lucky he is?”

She stared at her lap, the fingers of her left hand curled into a fist. Speaking in a quieter voice, she said, “Once, my grove was something, but now we’re nothing.

I don’t have friends. I’ll never have a real husband or a family or a grove again.

This, the silly fantasy and my work, is all I have.

I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t mock me for it. I’m very aware of how pathetic it is.”

He was so wrapped up in his discovery that he nearly let her stand up and run out of the room.

Gathering his wits just in time, he lunged for her free hand and held tight.

“Shiya,” he breathed, craning his neck to peer into her flushed, averted face.

“My Shiya, no. I’m not mocking you. I wouldn’t do that. ”

“Why not? I know what it looks like. Just a lonely woman making up stories about a man who’ll never even— It’s sad.”

“It’s not,” he argued, tugging on her hand. She held herself stiffly and refused to move, but he wasn’t done. “I know better than you think I do.”

“Uh-huh.” She cast him a flat look. “Let go.”

“Only if you’ll stay.”

She shook her head. “I’m tired, Taevas. I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

“Good gods, woman, I won’t kick you out of your nest,” he protested, appalled.

Alashiya let out an exasperated sigh. “Then you go back to the guest room.”

“Stay and speak to me, metsalill.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m embarrassed.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know why I told you any of that, but I wish I hadn’t. I just want to go to bed and forget it.”

Sliding his fingers over the silken skin of her wrist, Taevas gently turned her hand until her palm was facing him.

Easing his fingertips over the lines, tracing their unique pattern so he could picture them in his mind later, he asked, “What do you have to be embarrassed of, minu metsalill? You think your husband doesn’t think of you, too?

Do you imagine Adon thinks nothing of the artisan who presses her magic into the weave of his most precious possessions? ”

Gently but firmly, he used his grip to reel her back toward the nest. Alashiya watched him with a guarded expression as she allowed him to guide her reluctantly down, until she knelt on the mattress beside him.

This close, he could see every minute shift in color of her dark eyes — the same shade as waxed cedar wood, full of reds and browns and golds.

Whispering now, he asked, “Do you think your Adon doesn’t breathe in the smell of you whenever he opens a new package?

Do you think that he doesn’t save every pressed flower, or sleep beneath the hoop you sent him whenever he’s home?

Do you think he doesn’t get painfully hard whenever your fresh scent hits his nose?

Do you think he isn’t dying to know you?

To have even something as simple as a name to cling to? ”

Alashiya’s lips parted. “Taevas, what— How do you know I sent—”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a self-deprecating smile.

“Because I’m a pathetic man with a silly little fantasy, metsalill.

” Allowing himself the indulgence of brushing his knuckles over her cheek, he whispered, “That sash and robe is mine. If you must leave me for the night, I’d like to keep them with me.

Your husband is a greedy man, I’m afraid. Terribly hard to please.”

“What are you talking about?”

He skimmed his thumb over the soft pillow of her lower lip.

“You aren’t the only one with a claim, Shiya.

I’m afraid your Adon might be a bit more demanding in real life, but you’ll get used to it.

” Taevas pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth — not quite a kiss, but close.

Painfully close. “You’ll have to, seeing as he’s in your nest.”