Page 69 of Valor’s Flight (The New Protectorate #5)

Chapter Forty-Seven

Over the next few hours, Alashiya learned that when the Isand requested something, his people would move heaven and earth to give it to him as quickly as possible — even if they didn’t necessarily think it was the wisest idea.

She was swept along in a tide of activity as the A?daja clan and a fleet of hospital staff prepared Taevas to go home.

At some point she was briefly hustled off to the suite’s bathroom, where she changed into the loose dress Alex brought her.

She didn’t feel comfortable using the sparkling shower with an entire clan of strangers just outside the door, so she settled for a sink bath.

She still felt grimy and her curls needed some serious help, but a wipe-down and fresh clothing helped enormously.

While healers and various doctors prepared Taevas, she was placed in a soft armchair by his bed and given a tray of food.

She didn’t register what it was or who gave it to her.

Eating was a purely mechanical function.

She’d only managed to get a bit of the food down before her overwrought body protested.

Although everyone smiled and rushed to make her comfortable, no one seemed to know what to do with her, so she was largely left alone.

Hushed conversation in a mix of languages hummed around her, occasionally punctuated by her husband’s soothing baritone.

She didn’t remember closing her eyes or feeling when someone draped a blanket over her.

The next thing she knew, she was swaying gently as someone carried her out of the hospital room.

A jolt of unease nearly woke her completely when she realized it wasn’t Taevas’s shoulder under her cheek, but Radek’s. She’d barely stiffened before a familiar touch feathered over her back.

“Easy, metsalill,” her husband murmured. “Close your eyes. We’ll be home soon.”

She didn’t remember much after that; just the impression of movement and the resonant hum of Taevas’s voice.

Time became malleable. It felt like she’d only just closed her eyes when her body sank into a cloud.

Someone lightly jostled her legs as they removed her boots and socks before a thick duvet was pulled over her.

Taevas’s scent was rich and soothing and everywhere.

She sighed and tugged the duvet up to her nose. Her eyelids were too heavy to lift, but a faint glow passed through them, allowing her to get the impression of movement as Taevas slowly bent to give her a kiss.

“Rest now, my Shiya. I’ll join you in a little while,” he whispered.

Words were slow and heavy in her mouth. “Don’t go.”

He made a soft, pained sound and brushed a curl behind her ear. “I have to speak to my uncle and my Wing, but I’ll be close by. I won’t be long. When you wake up, I’ll be here with you.”

Her eyes burned beneath her closed lids, and a watery sniffle betrayed the sudden wave of feeling that overwhelmed her. “D’you promise?”

“Oh, my Shiya.” Taevas pressed several fierce kisses to the side of her head and cheek. Bringing one of her hands up to his heart, he said, “I’m so sorry that all of this happened to you. I’m sorry you were afraid.”

“I don’t care about that,” she whispered. “I only care that you’re okay. That you’re not gonna just— just disappear again. You can’t leave me. You promised.”

“I will never willingly leave you.” He kissed her palm before settling her hand back on the bed. In a softer voice, he commanded her, “Now sleep. The sooner you rest, the sooner tomorrow will come. And tomorrow everything will be better. I promise, my queen.”

Tomorrow will come.

A stone lodged itself in her throat, making it impossible to respond. Alashiya could only nod and draw the duvet closer to her eyes, hoping it’d hide whatever telling expression she made.

Leaving his Chosen alone in their nest when she was so clearly in need of care was agony, but Taevas had no other option.

He limped down the long hallway that connected his sprawling living quarters with the rest of the tower.

All of the floors were accessible via elevators and hidden staircases, but almost no one had permission to enter his private areas.

He’d deliberately sectioned off a portion of the top floor for guests and entertainment, putting the atrium in the center as a barrier between the public and private spaces.

Even if a guest wandered into the atrium from the entertainment suite, they wouldn’t have been able to open the doors to the private quarters. They were biometrically locked and warded. Dragons were intensely protective of their spaces on the best of days, but now that he had his mate in his nest…

Taevas padded across the shining marble floors of the atrium slowly, his body beginning to ache as the pain medication gradually began to lose its effectiveness.

The sunset threw stunning reds and oranges and lavenders through the clear glass roof.

The light drenched the carefully curated plastic plants and furniture that dotted the space.

He paused at the door to the entertainment suite, both to catch his breath and to look at the fronds of a large, fake tropical plant he’d never bothered to really look at before.

His lips pursed. Turning his head, he took a quick look around at the atrium, which he’d never spared more than a passing thought for.

He’d had the tower built in the 1950s, and though it had been updated roughly every ten years, he’d largely kept the aesthetic.

The simplicity of clean lines, bare walls, and natural light had always appealed to him.

When everything else in his life was a mess, he knew that his roost would be a place of calm. There was no clutter or visual noise. Just straight lines, polished floors, and quiet.

But now, observing the atrium that had always been something of a meditative space for him, he was unsettled. It felt… empty.

The potted plants looked oddly lonely in their clusters. The small table and chairs in the corner looked even more adrift. All the empty space that he’d once found so peaceful now felt… well, empty.

Taevas couldn’t honestly say he missed much about Alashiya’s home, but he now realized that it had an abundance of something his own lacked: life.

Every inch of it was marked by the people who’d lived there. The walls didn’t just hum with magic but with the memories of Alashiya’s grove. Everywhere he looked, there’d been a story, the smudged fingerprints of love and life.

What story did his roost tell? Taevas stared at the lone small table in the far corner, with its two seats — only one of which he’d ever used, because he never brought guests this far into his roost.

The urge to throw the table and chairs and lonely potted plants out burned under his skin. This isn’t right, his instincts told him. You can’t have your Chosen here. She should have something better. I have to fix this.

Taevas rubbed his temples. He’d heard people talk about the nesting urge, but he’d never thought he’d experience it. Dragons spent most of their adult lives padding their roosts, making everything just right, whether they wanted a mate or not.

But sometimes it happened that after a dragon found a mate, they developed a marked distaste for all the work they’d done before. Everything they liked, everything they’d spent years collecting and carefully styling, might suddenly become completely intolerable.

“I don’t have time for that right now,” he muttered, forcing himself to turn away from the sad little table and chairs.

Redecorating would have to wait until after he’d stabilized his territory and gotten Sergei where he belonged — firmly behind bars.

Knowing that he was rapidly running out of energy, Taevas forced himself through the door and down the hall toward the main sitting area of the entertainment suite.

The suite was huge. It had just about everything he could ever need for hosting not only his clan, but dignitaries and other territory leaders, should the need arise.

There was a private theatre, two dining rooms, an arcade, a pool, an office, and the main lounge, which was the main room, as the landing perch was connected to it via a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.

The lounge itself had just about everything he could need, including its own bar, kitchen, and sunken sitting area.

Most of his guests lingered around the bar or on the couches when he stepped inside.

Half his Wing were busy fixing themselves drinks, and the other half were talking quietly by the windows.

His aunt and uncle, Hele, Vael, and a few of his other relatives were scattered around the sitting area.

Paloma and little Emilia were missing, as were Artem and Alex.

His personal healers and two of his assistants were perched on bar stools, each one of them with a tablet or phone in hand.

Someone had acquired a ridiculous amount of takeout and scattered the boxes across the low table in the sunken sitting area and across the bar, but no one appeared to be eating. The low buzz of conversation came to an abrupt halt as everyone turned to look at him.

Trying not to show just how exhausted he was, Taevas drew his shoulders back. He offered the room a crooked smile. “I know I’m handsome, but it’s impolite to stare.”

There were more watery eyes than he wanted, but his weak joke had done the job of breaking some of the thick tension in the air, so he couldn’t complain too much.

Clapping his hands together, he announced, “All right! I know there’s a lot of shit to do and even more questions that need answering, so I’m going to cover the basics first and then work my way around to each of you. ”