Page 127 of Veiled Flames
Forty-Eight
Saxon
Iwalk slowly toward Rosomon’s quarters, desperately wanting to see her, but dreading the conversation we must have. She’s going to be angry. Very angry. Late last night, Roule and I overruled Treacher, who kept arguing in favor of letting her continue as a rider candidate.
Treacher doesn’t truly believe she could be a rider. He took Rosomon’s side only to go against me out of spite. He suspects how much I care about her and assumes she’ll die—if not during training, then while attempting to mount a dragon. It’s like Treacher thinks she deserves to die for deceiving him, or like he sees the whole question as sport. I wouldn’t be shocked if he placed wagers on how soon she’ll perish.
I refuse to let Rosomon die—even if she’ll hate me forever. More than she already does.
During our short time together, my feelings toward the young princess were undeniable, and have grown stronger in the days since we were last together. At my age, having close to fortyyears, I assumed I’d never find love, nor anything remotely like it. And any thoughts of taking a wife vanished when I earned my title as dragon master.
In such a short time, Rosomon has shaken the very foundation of every belief I had about myself and my future. But even if Iwerefree to take a wife—which I am not—it could never be Rosomon. She’d never have me. Not now. And her hatred will be solidified by what I’m about to tell her. The only way she can remain at camp is as a courtesan or servant. Either way she must become an acolyte, devoting her life to Othrix. She won’t like that.
She’s already refused my offer to become my personal courtesan, and I can’t stomach the idea of her offering herself to every man here at camp. She doesn’t have the temperament of a servant, so I have one final idea. Given the way young Tynan kissed her, the way he looked at her even before that. And the way she looks at him?—
Jealousy tightens my chest. I can control my emotions. If not, I can most certainly hide them, and I’ll find a way to withstand my pain if Rosomon and Tynan can strike a bargain. It’s far better than her being a camp courtesan, available to take every cock at camp.
Now that Tynan’s a qualified rider, he could claim her exclusively, just as I hoped to. No rider or courtesan holds such a position, but Rosomon is special in so many ways.
There’s little chance Tynan will be convinced not to bed other women, if she insists the exclusivity agreement go both ways. I hope she’ll bend on that matter. Although her will is difficult to bend.
An agreement between the pair makes far more sense than I want it to. They are both royal born. She was supposed to marry his grandfather, after all. Perhaps some kind of union between them could even ease tensions between their respective kingdoms, and I’ll be happy with any solution that keeps her here at camp and away from Tynan’s grandfather, the vile King of Khotor.
Yesterday, Tynan not only bonded with a dragon, he bonded with a male dragon, and one much larger than any mounted since I’ve been at camp.
As I guided Tynan yesterday, Surath reacted to Xendus in a way I’ve never sensed from her before. And that makes me wonder if there is something special about Xendus—if he’s a leader amongst the dragons.
It gives me renewed hope that Prince Tynan is the rider I’ve been searching for. The rider in the prophecies, the rider of royal blood who’ll restore balance between the Darkness and the Light. Tynan has already proved himself exceptional, excelling at camp and surviving not one but two failed mountings. Few have lived through even one.
All this makes his mounting feel like destiny. As if the other two dragons rejected Tynan to save him for Xendus.
Given the increasing frequency and severity of the ruptures, my hope was almost lost. With each breach, the danger to the Seven Kingdoms looms larger, but so does the danger that the klericks will discover how I’m affected by the Darkness.
I knock on Rosomon’s door.
There’s no answer. I knock again.
“Rosomon,” I call out. If I enter without invitation, it will make her even more angry. “Please, we must talk.” There’s still no answer. I turn toward the men stationed to guard her chambers. “Are you certain she’s within?”
They stand at attention. “Yes, Dragon Master. Absolutely certain.”
“No one has come in or out?”
They shake their heads no, but I detect deceit in their eyes. “If you let her escape—” I use my most commanding voice “—you’ll be very sorry.”
I open her door. “Rosomon.”
I search her chambers. I search every inch of them. Under the bed, inside the wardrobe, even inside the drawer below the small cupboard.
Fucking thrix!She’s not here. Fury and fear rise together, and I fight to tamp both of them down. I must find her. What if she’s already left camp? What if I never see her again? I can’t breathe.
Rushing out of her room, I glare at her guards. “You will pay for this!” I race into the courtyard. Tynan is running across it toward me.
“It’s Rosomon!” he shouts. “She’s trapped in the behemoth’s enclave!”
Forty-Nine
Rosomon
