Page 14 of King of Fire and Scales

He spoke to her gently, saturated in patience.

“I am going to ask my men to take your father to his room. I need a moment of your time first.”

Thalia already had her arm enveloped around her father’s waist. She jerked her head back up to the king, ready to defend herself vehemently.

“I want to help my father. Let me take him in first.”

Two men approached them. One was a soldier and the other was of a smaller stature with a studious look to him. She wondered if they were both dragon shifters as well.

“This is my attendant, Nerin,” he said, motioning at the smaller man. “I trust him with my life. Please, give me a minute. I promise you will not regret it.”

There was an earnestness to Drake’s speech that Thalia didn’t want to begrudge. So she told her father she wouldn’t be very long and handed him over to the strong soldier and the personal attendant, with a restrained, shrill scream lodged in her throat.

“Be careful with him, please," she muttered.

Evanth wasn’t entirely docile, blowing out his lips and slurring like a drunk being tossed out of a tavern.

“I’m not deaf, Thalia.”

She stood with her cape over her shoulder as her father was helped inside. Once he’d disappeared from her sight, she realized she’d been holding her breath.

“Come,” the king said, leading her around the back of the inn. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

She followed Drake over smooth and even pavement. Twilight was reaching its crescendo, the horizon lethargically swallowing the light. She trailed along to a smaller building, which she soon realized was a pub stowed a mere skip away from the guest house.

When Drake opened the door, a rupture of laughter and clanking glasses flooded Thalia’s ears. She folded the cape into her hands and began to wring the fabric, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“This is Sorcha Tolacas. She works in the castle for me.”

The king stood beside a woman so staggeringly beautiful that Thalia had to blink twice to understand she was real. She was tall with wavy, blazing red hair, and eyes as blue as sapphire stones. She had a curvy and solid body that was nearly impossible not to appreciate.

“I am so glad I finally get to meet you,” Sorcha said, shaking Thalia’s hand with unbridled enthusiasm.

Thalia shook back with as much energy as she could summon after the long ride. She stared up at the woman, then at Drake, feeling disoriented.

“Sorry, are you my servant?” she asked delicately.

Sorcha let out a bubbly laugh. Drake grinned, giving Sorcha a knowing glance.

“She will be your handmaiden, yes, but her primary focus is going to be helping you develop your witchcraft skills. Sorcha was trained at the Sorcerer Academy.”

Thalia nodded, twisting at the thread of her cape lining. She was trying to hide any sign of trepidation, or worse, intimidation.

The king went on, sensing her unease. His voice lowered, hushed as a mouse in the raucous din of the tavern.

“I saw how much of a toll our journey is taking on Evanth. I had the thought that perhaps, you can start practicing sooner rather than later. I asked my attendant, Nerin, as well as Sorcha to meet me here. We are only half a day out from the Mountain Kingdom.”

Thalia was touched. She darted her eyes between Sorcha, whose marvelous smile had yet to shrink away, and the great Mountain King. She didn’t sense deception on his part, so she agreed.

“I would very much like to work with you,” she said, addressing Sorcha.

“Good! It is settled then,” Drake said, raising his voice into a bellow. “We will start tonight at dinner.”

Thalia felt that quirk in her gut. She chose to ignore it for the time being. The thought of him using her father’s myriad of illnesses and Sorcha’s generosity to get her to have dinner with him was absurd. But then again, it may not have been. Men of his stature could never dream of a woman denying their every whim.

She thought of her father though, and let the feeling pass.

Thalia thanked the sorceress and the king, who had started to share a pint, then excused herself to go check on her father. She was thankful the inn they were staying at didn’t have stairs. It was all one level, easier for her father to get around with his uneven gait.

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