Page 35 of The Dragon Warlord
Since I’ve already broken my daily vow to keep myself away from him—one that always gets broken in some form or another—I succumb to the bond completely, nosing my way to where my bite sits on his neck. It’s a raised mark on his neck. Shiny pink skin in the shape of the two semi-circles of my teeth. I must have really sunk my large incisors deep. Those marks are the most prominent.
Inhaling him is a rush. It almost makes me high.
While Tristan the Elf feels guilt over everything to do with bonding and biting, there’s no mistaking the thing that terrifies me the most.
Tristan the dragon doesn’t feel any remorse over this bite. He’d do it again. Tristan the dragon knows it was his right to claim River. He’d push River against this wall and claim him in a whole other way.
That’s why Tristan the dragon can never fully come to the surface ever again.
* * *
We find Ikara with her mother in one of The Tower’s many gardens. This one is open to the sky, with flowers growing along the ground and up the various pieces of architecture. In the center is an obscene statue of the dragon lord, biting someone’s neck. When I look a little closer I … no.No.That can’t be me. If it is, I don’t want to know. I avert my eyes and ignore the rush of embarrassment running through me.
Ikara is different than I’d pictured her from River’s stories. She’s smaller than River, with hair as dark as mine, but like all Markaytians, she has a deep olive complexion. Her dragon eyes are angled and exotic like River’s, but they’re a deep green with yellow flecks and there’s a generous smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks.
Her mother, Amira, could be her nearly identical twin sister and the only telltale clue that she’s older is in her ancient irises.
Ikara is draped in heavy cloaks of bright blues and purples with strips of white, while her mother wears robes in a regal shade of burgundy with gold accents. There’s a swirling golden dragon on the back of her mother’s cloak. Ikara and her mother are seers and Amira has a seat on the Council which is composed of the six wizards and several other dragons with a variety of skills.
“Tristan,” Amira says in a commanding voice, and it strikes me because no one has called me Tristan in this place other than the dragon lord, but we all know he has his preferred moniker for me. It’s refreshing.
Giving a shallow bow, I greet her with a smile. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. Is there a title I should address you by, my lady?”
“You are the Warlord. You may call me what you wish.” Her tone never loses the quality that says she’s in command even when she’s acquiescing to my supposed command.
“Then I shall refer to you as Lady Amira or Ma’am just in case my father should be listening,” I tease.
There is a burst of joy from my side. River. His approval of my interaction with the seer bolsters me. With how often I’m doing things just to please him and see him smile, it’s a wonder as to who’s really in charge, the alpha or the omega?
Ikara rushes forward and straight into a bow, which her mother did not do, professing her loyalty through the Warlord’s prayer. I see the bit of River in her now by way of all the unearned praise and affection I’m garnering. She’s also filled with the same bright and never-ending optimism he exudes.
“You may rise,” I say when I figure out that she’s not getting up until I say that she can.
“Warlord! What an honor. I’ve been waiting to meet you formally and here you are, must be a sign. I’m considering joining your team of warriors if you’ll have me. You’ll find that I’m an exceptional recruit. I’ve been training since the day I was born. You won’t be sorry.”
“Ikara,” River scolds. “You know you’re not supposed to talk to the Warlord like that. My apologies, Warlord.”
It’s adorable because even in Dragon Land your family members can embarrass the hell out of you.
An amused smile spreads onto Amira’s face.
“Oh, pshaw, little brother. It’s obvious to anyone that the Warlord is a reasonable dragon with modern views.”
That earns her a raised eyebrow from me. “I threatened the entire tower because my omega was touched one time. That’s what you consider reasonable?”
“You could have used Ace as an example and anyone in your position would have. It was expected, Warlord. You exercised restraint and mercy unknown to dragons. Especially when Keldrid and Ace know better. They were being prats and you kindly put them in their place.”
I don’t know if I agree with her definition of kind, but I am intelligent enough to understand her perspective.
“I would love to have you, Ikara, and when I get an army, I’ll take you up on your offer.” There’s no shortage of bitterness in my tone.
“Oh?” Amira says. “I was under the impression that you did have an army.”
Gods, she’s such a mother. That feels like a scolding, but I suppose I deserve it. I’m being a tad childish about the whole thing and I want to stick it to the dragon lord any way I can. On the other hand, there isn’t much I can do while I try to behave and wait until the dragon lord says I can go to my army, is there?
“I’m on the waitlist to portal over that way,” I say, allowing sarcasm to leak into my tone.
“Mhm. Where is your sword, Warlord? It seems to me a Warlord should have a sword and his armored jacket. Maybe you’re not aware that it’s a piece of armor?”
