Page 86 of The Dragon Warlord
The warriors in my army surround us and kneel for the dragon lord who has not dismissed them. The sun has almost set. It’s the time River and I would usually be eating dinner together. Fuck, I miss him. I miss him and he’s only just across The Tower. I miss him and it’s only been an hour or so since I last saw him.
Slamming to both knees, I beseech Alpha with my eyes to fix this. Fix me. His hand cups my cheek. “Oh, how I would like to build a toxic codependency between us, pet. You have no idea. I’m not a saint and I would revel in it. It would be delicious and easy to do with how much I know about you. I won’t though. Not today, anyway. You’re going to have to figure this out for yourself. I think you understand something new though, yes?”
“Yes, Alpha.”
I do. I hate him and I don’t at the same time. I admire aspects of his character with reverence while despising others.
And I don’t want him to give more attention to the ice dragon than he does me, but I’m at his mercy on that one.
“Then this is over. Everyone up and back to your stations. Omega, you’re coming with me.”
15
River
Father keeps Tristan for two days and they are the most agonizing two days of my life. I find solace on the field. I’m told that I’m not much better than the Warlord was the day he used his warriors to paint a blood canvas. They’re all proud that they survived Tristan and had enough left to attempt a duel with his omega.
Father shows up to the field when I’m mid-battle in a semi-circle, fending off a four-person attack. He watches as I cleanly slice and hack my way through each one, leaning into my dragon magic and the magic in my blade. Dancing with the magic prevents tiring too quickly. Forcing strikes like sledgehammer blows drains your energy and saps your endurance.
When I’ve got four warriors on the ground before me, he applauds as he makes his presence known. “Well done, my boy,” he says, using a term of relation since Tristan isn’t here. “I wonder if you’ll join me in the Warlord’s tent?”
He’s asking, but he’s not asking. Fanning myself with my shirt, I follow after him, sticky and blood-soaked. Without the rage of battle flooding through me, the ache returns. I reach out for my alpha without meaning to just to reassure myself that he still exists.
Father gestures for me to sit and he takes the Warlord’s chair. “Tristan is better. He’s in his room and has requested you, though I suggest not going to him covered in blood. I wanted to have a quick chat with you first.”
“Okay.”
“What happened was my fault, not yours. If you’re blaming yourself that can end now.”
I release a breath that’s a mixture of a huff and a sigh. “I don’t know that blame lies anywhere for this, Father. We are in a situation and under a set of circumstances that were predicated by another set of circumstances.”
“When you do that, you remind me of your mother.” He smiles. “Fine, I’m happy not to take the blame, but you still need to know this. I do a lot, more things than I have the time to explain, so that my bond with Tristan doesn’t affect him. Much. However, there isn’t a lot I can do about his own feelings or the stubborn conclusions he’s come to.” Father’s frustration bleeds through.
“What do you mean to say, my lord?”
“Truthfully, you’ve rendered most of the speech I came to give irrelevant because you are far wiser than I was at your age. I thought you’d need a pep talk since even I was feeling guilty. Instead, consider this a head’s up that I failed to bring Tristan around. He’s still adamant about enforcing the mutual and unspoken pact you made to touch each other less, but other than that, he’s back to his usual self.”
If he’s his usual self again that can only mean one thing, he’s got a sore arse. “May I go to him, Father?”
He waves me off. “Go, but for the Gods’ sake, consider getting that blood off you.”
Okay, I’ll admit that it’s a little fun when your strict and overbearing father can’t give you a direct order anymore, other than regarding official business. It’s sound advice, however, so even though it kills me, I head to the private baths to wash up first, drop by my rooms to change into something clean, and then I’m straight to Tristan’s chambers.
* * *
He’s on the veranda, staring off at the nothingness while the sky flashes gossamer shades of purple and blue. He doesn’t look at me, but he knows where I am and he lifts his arm, a clear invitation that he wants me under it. I go and greedily inhale him, nuzzling against him, surrounding myself with this dark curtain of hair.
“Before you say it, we’re supposed touch less, not stop touching full stop. I haven’t seen you in two bloody days and I’m officially making a law against that,” he says.
“I wasn’t going to complain, Warlord.”
“I’m sorry I lost my temper. I’ve wanted to say that to you for days, but I was under threat of that damn whip if I spoke to you through our bond. Part of me stopped giving a fuck, but I knew it would upset you.”
I laugh and squeeze him. “I’m glad you didn’t earn yourself lashes. I understood why you lost your temper, and I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”
He combs fingers through my hair. “That’s kind of you to say, but I am sorry. Gods, your face, Riv. I can’t stop thinking about how you felt because of my actions. My anger felt justified right up until I saw that look on your face.”
He said he wants me to speak up when I think he’s being obtuse. It’s hard to do, but I’m going try. “I appreciate that and I’m glad you care about my feelings, but it’s important that as a dragon and as the dragon Warlord, you get your anger out in a physical way. Else, there could be other more devastating consequences. Besides, it wasn’t your anger that upset me. You’ve never wanted to be alone from me before and I didn’t know what to do with that, but after thinking about it, the desire to be alone is normal, Warlord. You deserve alone time if you want it.”
