Page 93 of To Touch A Silent Fury
“There is little written on the bond, but there are some books on diets, habits, growth, and biology I could find for you.”
She swallowed, and the furrow between her brow was back. “That would be… yes,” she breathed, and my chest felt tight. “Thank you, again.”
Blessed Edrin, have mercy. Sight like this should not have been bestowed on me when all I could do was stare at her. She was too pretty. I should never have agreed to lend her my tailor.
I looked to the grass below, seeing where the patch of light from her window cast onto the garden. “Have you named him?”
She followed my look. “No.”
“Why not?” I asked, studying her face.
She smiled. “That felt like something a mother should do. I am not his mother, I am only his keeper. I’d like him to choose his own name.”
Tanidwen had done it again, stunned me in a new way. She was too good at that, saying something so totally surprising that it left me lost for words. She wanted the dragon to choose his own name. I couldn’t hear Chaethor, but I knew she would purr in approval, and I felt the warmth of that knowledge like a lodestone around my neck. How could this woman already be so attuned with her dragon and his independence, in a way I would have never thought to be?
It was intimidating and mortifying.
She interrupted my thoughts. “You mentioned women.”
What? I stared at her, so taken aback by the change in subject that I could do nothing but answer honestly. “My father wishes me to marry.”
She stared back. “Why haven’t you, until now?”
I swallowed. “I have no desire to cage someone.”
She flinched, dropping her eyes from mine. I must have said the wrong thing, but the hour was late, and my mind wasn’tentirely clear. She was as much to blame for that as the syras. Something about her made me honest; perhaps it was guilt.
I had Broken her, and she deserved more than I could ever fucking repay her. My honesty seemed the minimum of that, even if she did not like my answer.
“Who would you choose for yourself, if you could?” she asked.
I shrugged. “It’s not a matter of choice.”
“Hence why I saidif.”
I dampened my lower lip. “I’m beginning to think you have taken the concept of late night impertinence far too literally.”
She met my eyes, and I saw the play in her gaze. “And yet it was you who came, with all your regal pomp, to find me.”
“I have no pomp,” I said, far too defensively. I needed her to stop looking at me like that.
She shifted her weight, moving the book to her other hand. “Humour me.”
Who would I choose for myself? It wasn’t a question I had given much thought, as it wasn’t one that I would ever get to exercise. It was purely hypothetical, and yet, when I thought about it, the answer sprang up easily. “I am not looking for a love match, nor do I expect to find one,” I said. “But I would choose an intelligent wife, if I could. Interested in the world around her and interested in improving her mind. History, culture, politics, religion. It is hard to survive this life without wit, and I would not want my wife easily manipulated, because I know many will try.”
I saw her hand clench around her book and her cheeks reddened.
“Strength, too, of both mind and constitution,” I continued.
She huffed out a little breath. “Not stupid nor sickly. A high bar, Your Grace.”
I stared at her mouth. “And of course, beautiful.”
She smirked. “Ah, so you are vapid and shallow after all.”
I bowed my head in acknowledgement. “I am a Sightlander, through and through.”
“Still, your requirements are not many.”
