Page 22 of Realms of Swords and Storms
His smile was unexpected. "Honest as always. That's what I—" He caught himself, clearing his throat. "That's what makes you different from the others."
Something shifted in the air between us, a tension that had nothing to do with impending war or academy politics. I found myself studying the strong line of his jaw, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead when he leaned forward.
"Jalend," I began, not entirely sure what I wanted to say.
"Yes?" His eyes held mine, something expectant in his gaze that made my heart stutter. He raised an eyebrow, waiting. When I didn't continue, he reached forward and, with deliberate slowness, let his fingertips brush against mine.
"Yes?" he prompted, his voice deeper than before.
The touch sent a jolt of awareness through me that was both thrilling and terrifying. I withdrew my hand, suddenly consciousof how public our location was, of how many eyes might be watching.
"Nothing," I said. "Just... thank you for the information."
Disappointment flickered across his features before he masked it with his usual sardonic smile. "Always at your service, Lady Cantius."
The way he said my false name felt like an accusation, though I knew it couldn't be. He couldn't know who I really was. No one could.
"I should go," I said, rising from the table. "I have weapon maintenance duty tonight."
“Of course,” he said, a little stiffly. “I’ll see you another time.”
As I walked away, I could feel his eyes on my back. The weight of his attention followed me across the dining hall, heavy with unasked questions and unspoken desires. I quickened my pace, desperate to escape not just his scrutiny but my own dangerous impulses.
The weapons maintenance room was mercifully empty when I arrived. Rows of practice swords, spears, and daggers lined the walls, each requiring regular care to prevent rust and maintain their edge. I selected a whetstone and a cloth, then grabbed one of the blunted training daggers that had seen heavy use earlier that day.
The familiar rhythm of stone against steel soothed my frayed nerves. Scrape, turn, scrape. A methodical process that required focus but left just enough mental space for reflection.
What was I doing, allowing myself to feel this... whatever it was... for Jalend Northreach? He was nobility, the real kind, not my fabricated version. Any relationship beyond friendship would be impossible even if I were truly Lady Livia Cantius. But I wasn't. I was Livia of nowhere, former slave, impostor, and spy.
"Foolish girl," I muttered to myself, pressing harder against the whetstone. It wasn’t like I didn’t have enough attention to bedealing with, and I knew I’d been neglecting some of my men. It was just so hard with many, I wasn’t sure how I could keep them all happy, and it was starting to get exhausting. I couldn’t encourage Jalend any more than I already had, as sad as that made me feel.
6
Islipped through the shadows of the academy grounds, my heart hammering against my ribs. Two weeks of nightly excursions had taught me the patrol patterns of the night guards—where they walked, when they changed shifts, which ones were vigilant and which ones dozed at their posts. Tonight, like every night since discovering Sirrax's true nature, I moved with the stealth of a thief stealing away to the abandoned stables at the far edge of the property.
The moon hung low and heavy in the sky, casting just enough light to illuminate my path without betraying my presence. I'd dressed simply—a dark tunic and breeches that wouldn't catch on branches or reflect torchlight. My hair was bound tightly, nothing to flutter in the breeze.
As I approached the crumbling structure, anticipation quickened my pulse. I'd left Sirrax here earlier, removing his collar in the privacy of the abandoned building. By now, hewould have transformed, would be waiting for me in his true form.
I slipped through the gap in the rotting wooden door, the familiar scent of hay and dust greeting me. "Sirrax?" I whispered into the darkness.
Movement rustled in the far corner, and then he emerged from the shadows, moonlight streaming through the broken roof to illuminate his midnight skin. My breath caught at the sight of him—tall and powerfully built, white hair falling past his shoulders, golden eyes glowing in the darkness.
"Mate," he rumbled, the word sending a shiver down my spine. He crossed the space between us in three long strides, sweeping me into his arms with effortless strength.
I melted against him, the heat of his body seeping through my clothes. His mouth found mine in a kiss that started gentle but quickly turned hungry, demanding.
"Missed you," he growled against my lips. "All day, watching, waiting."
His hands made quick work of my clothing, tearing at fabric with impatient fingers until I stood naked before him. I should have been cold in the night air, but his heat enveloped me, banishing any chill.
"Every day gets harder," I admitted as his lips trailed fire down my neck. "Watching the other dragons, knowing what they are, what's being done to them."
His hands stilled momentarily, his golden eyes meeting mine. "Soon," he promised. "Free them soon."
Then his mouth was on my breast, and coherent thought fled as pleasure coursed through me. I tangled my fingers in his white hair, holding him against me as his tongue circled my nipple, sending jolts of sensation straight to my core.
We'd done this every night for two weeks, yet the hunger between us showed no signs of abating. If anything, it grewstronger with each encounter, as though the bond connecting us deepened with every touch, every shared breath.
