Page 81 of Bride of the Black Dragon
“The one that binds you to the Kingdom,” I say, frowning.
He nods.
“And keeps my Drake from flying free.”
My heart aches. I press a kiss to his collarbone.
“I’ll find a way to free you,” I whisper fiercely. “I will.”
But before he can answer, there’s a loud bang-bang-bang! on the dungeon door.
A rough voice shouts, “If you’re finished fucking, get dressed and be quick about it. Your time is up!”
Xaren growls low in his throat and stands, shielding me from the narrow window in the door with his massive frame. I scramble to dress, tugging the red gown over my flushed, marked skin.
When I’m as decent as I can be, he turns and pulls me into his arms.
He kisses me deeply—possessively—his hands cradling my face.
“Soon, little dove,” he murmurs. “We’ll be together again, soon—I swear it.”
I kiss him back, holding onto him as long as I can.
“Soon,” I echo.
But in my heart, I wonder.
How long will the Queen’s wrath last? How long will she keep her oldest son trapped in this cell, wearing the collar that bleeds the life from his soul?
And how can I possibly save him… when I don’t even know where to begin?
42
ELAINA
Days pass.
Long, aching, endless days filled with waiting, longing, and silence.
I am allowed to leave my rooms again—providing that I “comport myself with the dignity befitting a Princess” according to the Queen. I think my relative freedom is a nod to the fact that she once again hopes I may be pregnant. But as long as Xaren is locked away, I am not free.
No one in Court even mentions him. Not the servants who come and go from my rooms, not the guards who stand watch at the palace gates, not even the Queen. Especially not the Queen.
But I can’t stop thinking about him.
Every time I close my eyes, I see him—his golden eye glowing faintly in the dark, his voice rough with tenderness, his hands strong yet gentle on my body. The feel of him…the taste of him…the way he looked at me like I was his entire world.
Goddess… please let him be all right.
I try to stay busy, but nothing helps. I pace…I try to sew…I try to read. But nothing holds my attention. My skin feels too tight. My heart is a weight in my chest. What if his Drake is dying right now? What if he’s fading away and taking Xaren with him?
At last, I can’t take it anymore.
I dress in a gown of soft gold silk—nothing provocative this time, nothing red or clingy or sheer. Something elegant and proper and demure. Something that says “respectful wife,” not “rebellious consort.”
And then, I go to her.
Queen Virelda sits in her favorite sun room, near the tall windows where the light streams through stained glass and casts bloody red patterns on the marble floor. Her robes shimmer like black water, her pale hair piled high in ornate coils and pinned with ruby-tipped hair pins shaped like daggers.
