Page 74 of Valor’s Flight (The New Protectorate #5)

Alashiya conjured the image of that massive, angry-looking dragon who’d rescued her from the interrogation room and blanched. “My Wing?”

“Your Wing,” he reiterated, tilting his chin up to allow her to finish buttoning his shirt. He flashed her a dazzlingly white smile full of fang and his particular brand of charm. “You’re my wife now, remember? That makes you Emand.”

Her fingers paused their work. “I… don’t know what that means.”

“It means you aren’t just queen of nymphs anymore,” he explained. Gently pulling her hands away from his collar, he held her gaze when he continued, “You’re my mate. My wife. My Emand. You rule the Draakonriik beside me now, my Shiya.”

If her eyes got any wider, there was a real fear that they’d simply pop out of her skull and land at his strange taloned feet.

“No, I’m not,” she sputtered.

Taevas chucked her under the chin. “Yes, you are. So you might as well rest while you can, my queen, because you and I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

Alashiya was pretty sure she forgot what it was like to breathe. She was so shocked that she barely registered when he dropped a kiss onto her forehead and moved to exit the closet, his tail swishing with an unmistakably smug rhythm.

Only when he paused and cleared his throat at the doorway did she turn woodenly to face him. “And naine,” he growled, “we’ll continue our conversation about our wedding when I return.”

Taevas left her in what she could only describe as some sort of lounge, with the surly-looking Radek standing guard by the door.

She’d been bundled into one of his robes and left there with vague instructions to “use the MET to order anything she needed” and “watch some TV” while she waited for his cousins.

Alashiya had no idea how to do either of those things, so she curled up in the strange, sunken sitting area and stared out the windows in silence.

Outside, a glorious expanse of water ringed by green called to her.

White-capped waves licked at a rocky shore, reminding her of stitches appearing and disappearing on an expanse of blue fabric.

It was a lot easier to stare out at the majesty of nature in awe than it was to think about the revelation Taevas had left her with — a fair turn, considering what she’d revealed to him, but overwhelming nonetheless.

Emand.

She’d never even heard the word before, but it landed with all the weight of an anvil in her mind. She could feel what it meant to Taevas. She just had no idea how to process what it meant to her yet.

Alashiya had no idea what the responsibilities of an Emand were. What she’d need to do as his wife. What it even meant to exist out in the world beyond Birchdale.

It was too overwhelming for just about anyone to think about all at once, let alone the morning after her surprise release from interrogation.

So Alashiya laid down on her side, curled up with one of the many decadently soft blue blankets folded over the back of the couches, and watched the waves from a dizzying height.

Free to reach for Taevas in the hyphae, she luxuriated in the feeling of closeness, the echo of his heartbeat and rhythm of his breath. He wasn’t there with her, but he was there.

She didn’t mean to sleep, but it was inevitable after the days she’d had.

Alashiya slipped into a doze beneath the weight of the blanket, her cheek cushioned by a plush throw pillow.

The deep bass of his voice rumbled through her mind, unintelligible but comforting, and drifted through gentle dreams.

When she woke some undetermined time later, it took her a long moment to remember where she was — and to realize that it wasn’t her husband’s fingers stroking her hair.

A long-fingered, glowing hand patted her cheek. “Good morning, strange woman.”

Alashiya jolted awake. Bewildered, she sat up on her elbow and peered at the elemental. “Hele?”

Fathomless black eyes crinkled with a smile.

She sat beside Alashiya on the couch, her willowy body draped in a frothy forest green summer dress.

A glittery hair clip in the shape of a heart held back the bone white hair by her ear, but it did nothing for the rest of the mass, which floated in a glowing ribbon over and behind the black leather couch.

“You’ve been asleep for a while,” Hele told her. “Have you had breakfast yet? I hope not. My sister said she’s bringing a feast.”

Sitting up properly now, Alashiya rubbed the grit from her eyes. “I… no. I haven’t eaten.” Without thinking, she added, “I didn’t know how to use the talking thing Taevas told me to use.”

Hele tilted her head. “The MET?”

Cheeks warming, Alashiya quickly looked away. Oh gods, now she’s going to think I’m some country yokel.

“I’ve never used one before,” she quickly explained, hoping it wouldn’t make her sound even more unsophisticated.

Hele didn’t appear to judge her for her ignorance. Instead, she nodded sagely. “I didn’t know anything until my clan taught me. It’s a good thing you’ve joined ours. Now I can teach you.”

“Um… thank you?” Alashiya self-consciously tucked the lapels of her borrowed robe tighter against her chest. She looked around at the massive television mounted on the wall and all the other foreign bits of technology scattered around the lounge with trepidation.

Taking a deep breath, she haltingly explained, “I haven’t used much technology. I only ever had access to the computers at the library in town. I don’t know how to use anything here.”

Hele patted her knee. “Don’t worry about looking silly for not knowing. My ema says the only way to do that is to not ask for help when you need it.”

“Your… ema sounds smart.”

The rustle of paper announced the presence of someone else a second before a new voice sing-songed, “Are we talking about our mama? Because if so, you’re damn right.”

Alashiya twisted to look at the doorway, where a purple dragon stood. Her arms, shimmering with gold flecks, were laden with bags and her short black hair curled stylishly around her horns. Alashiya vaguely recalled her face from the hospital but her name escaped her.

As if she could read her mind, the dragon lifted her chin and offered, “Alex.”

Clearing her throat, she replied, “Hi, Alex.”

“She hasn’t eaten breakfast,” Hele announced. “Did you bring a feast?”

Alex grinned a huge, toothy grin and lifted the bags.

Sauntering across the room, she nearly gave Alashiya a heart attack when she vaulted over the low back of the couch to land in the sunken pit.

“I did,” she crowed. Turning to present the heavy bags to Alashiya with a flourish — one that utilized both tail and wings — she declared, “A feast for our new Emand, long may she reign!”

“Oh,” Alashiya breathed, shrinking back against the cushions. Oh no.