Page 47 of Golden Queen
The fact that she was rare, even for a dragon, made the gift all the more baffling. Dragons were sacred to Darkwatch, even more so than the Artaxian stallions were to the horse lords.
The bonds dragon mages formed with their dragons were magical and soul deep. In some ways like the mating bond between people. Both bonds were forged by the fates, supposedly predestined and unbreakable. But I was not of Darkwatch, so I could not hope to forge such a bond.
As the Prince had explained in those harried moments in the receiving room, my bond with the dragon would be less. "You'll be able to command her...as long as you maintain mutual respect for each other," he said, standing so close I could smell that familiar scent of his, like fresh, open air and fire. "And you'll eventually be able to call her to you with little more than a thought, since your bond will strengthen over time. But you'll never be able to call her from the distances that I can call Veles, or sense when she is in danger, or whether she is happy."
The last made me inexplicably sad as I looked at the dragon. She was perched on the back of one of the heavy iron and wood chairs in the chamber, turning her sleek head back and forth to track the movements of the crowd gathered around the room.
My face must have registered some of that sadness, because the prince added, "She is yours, nonetheless. I saw that in the godsgrass. She saw you and she cried out for you. That's a good sign."
"A good sign of what?" I asked him.
"That you have already bonded."
I studied her. The strange opalescent color of her scales bathed in the stained glass of the chamber windows made her look like she was a rainbow made flesh. "I..." I hesitated, unsure why I was suddenly embarrassed to say it. "I love her," I admitted with a shaky laugh.
I met his eyes and was startled to realize they were not black, but a deep, dark blue.
He smiled—a real smile. One that I had not yet seen on his handsome face. His lips spread to reveal straight white teeth, and as his face registered what looked like unexpected delight, a very charming comma-shaped dimple appeared bracketing his mouth.
And then he looked away, running his hands through his hair, pushing the raven black locks back across his head. Those few stubborn strands fell directly back into place, of course. As I watched him, I hardly dared to believe he looked...uncomfortable.
My thoughts were in a whirlwind trying to reorder my perception of him now that he had been revealed as the Lord of Darkwatch and the Prince of Nightfall—brother to the king.
I realized that it made little difference. I had always known he was powerful. That power was not diminished in the company of my court. It was only made more obvious in the way my uncle, the other nobles, and even the royal guards shrank away from him in a way that they did not do even for the larger mage, Aben, at his side.
You could not miss his power. You could feel it in the air. It was heavy, tangible.
I noticed the way the others’ eyes slid to him more often than to anyone else. And there was trepidation in their gazes. Even Bryce Mandelian, who had abandoned his horse to face the dragons on foot, looked at him warily.
But there was more in the way the baron regarded him. He looked at the prince with what could easily be interpreted as admiration.
The looks on the faces of the women were unmistakable. They looked at him hungrily. Even the Baroness of Khiebol, at eighty-eight years old, looked at Amon Aldur with some level of want in her eyes.
It was as though his strength pulled everything into the central point of his existence, but at the same time, they all fought to get away, knowing they could be consumed.
My uncle took control of the meeting shortly after everyone reached the receiving chamber. He motioned for us to sit in chairs facing each other in the center of the room.
I sat with my dragon seated on my lap. She made a sound that rumbled through her almost like a purr.
The prince sat across from me, lounging in the chair with an easy authority that made me wonder how I had ever imagined him as anything less than a king.
I watched his face as my uncle made his apologies for being unable to meet them in the godsgrass. I had to force myself not to roll my eyes when the regent detailed to them the multiple duties,very important, urgent duties, of course, that had called him unexpectedly back to the city.
The prince listened intently, but the moment the regent turned his attention away, he slid those dark eyes to mine, raising a single brow as he hid his smile behind two fingers.
He had seen the coward ride away, abandoning me on the field.
When the introductions and apologies had been shared all around, Markus brought valid concerns to the visitors from Nightfall. They were the same ones that I'd had in my mind since the moment I sighted those great wings in the sky.
The Godsgrass Kingdom and dragon fire did not mix.
"The people are already threatening a revolt," Markus said, showing the mages his palms beseechingly. "You must understand why their queen cannot own a dragon! A visit, though unexpected, is one thing, but a fire-breathing beast frolicking through the godsgrass plains is quite another."
"If I may," Britaxia said sweetly, using an entirely different voice than the one she’d used when I met her in Juriae’s manor. It was honey-sweet and almost child-like. As I listened to her, I began to think she was a skilled manipulator, and I wholly admired her for it.
"We have come to Windemere with more than just a mind for trade, Lord Regent," she continued, rising from her chair. Her eyes were that odd shade of amber, and they danced with expectant glee. "King Behr would like to extend a hand of friendship—an alliance, if you will, between the north and the south. One that has not existed for thousands of years."
Markus interrupted her as she opened her mouth to continue. "And Windemere would gladly accept that friendship, but we must—"
