Page 4 of The Dragon and Her Thief
Her dragon huffed at her dramatic nature.
Shut it, she warned. Her animal knew her true nature. Saying she was giving up on finding her mate was a fib.
A dragon never stopped searching and preparing for their mate.
“Yes, my lady.” Sascha bowed her head, her long silver hair falling forward. Her skin, a russet reddish-brown, was smooth for a woman nearing a hundred. Sascha was blessed with good genes, with almost no wrinkles on her face. It had to be the powers of her people that kept her looking so young. She was still young compared to Mythia.
Sascha began working for Mythia ages ago, when she was a young girl of twenty. She had come to trust the seer, who rarely had visions that didn’t come true.
Mythia moved to stand in front of the roaring fire. Even in the fall, the mountains in Montana were slightly chilly. The castle was centuries old, and she’d had it renovated to bring it to the modern age. It was decked out with the best technology money could buy.
But one thing that never ceased to amaze her was the slight chill that always lingered in the air.
She stared into the flames, excitement filling her chest.
Her dragon was ready to prepare their home.
She thought of all the treasures she had stored away to present to her mate, and could only pray it would be enough.
“Tell me again, what did you see?” she demanded. She needed to know everything she could about her mate before her arrival. Mythia turned and motioned to the high-back chair positioned in front of the stone hearth.
Sascha appeared to float past her. Mythia sat in the chair next to her and crossed her leather encased legs in preparation for the story.
“She’s a beautiful young woman,” Sacha began, offering Mythia a small smile. “She has warm bronze skin, long brown hair, and big brown eyes. She loves the outdoors. I saw her farming and working in a factory.”
Mythia nodded. Of course her mate would be a hard worker, and a lover of the outdoors was right up Mythia’s alley. Sacha’s description of her mate was generic, but it didn’t matter.
Any woman sent by the fates was bound to be beautiful.
“How do we meet?” she asked.
“It will be here, at the castle.”
How was that even possible? There were no events planned at her home.
“What business will she have here at the castle?” Mythia frowned. She hosted an event once a year where she could mingle with the townsfolk she had pledged hundreds of years ago to protect. Over the years, multiple dragons have tried to overtake Saxon Hills.
It was a pledge she would fight tooth and nail for.
She’d always had a soft spot for it. One of the founders of the town, Paxton Rose, had made her swear that she would always keep this town under her wing. According to him, she was the only one he would trust with the future of his people and his family. He was a great friend, and she had mourned his death.
“Oh, it will be soon, Mythia. In two days’ time, your mate will sneak into the castle. She’s on a mission.”
That caught Mythia’s attention. Her dragon prowled around inside of her chest.
Why would anyone sneak into the castle? Unless… they were going to steal something?
She snarled.
A thief.
Her mate was a thief?
She stood abruptly from her chair, almost knocking it over.
“You mean to tell me that my mate is coming to steal from me?” She swung around and faced Sascha, her heart pounding at the thought of someone trying to steal everything she had collected over the years.
What honor was there in stealing?
