Page 5 of I Dream of Dragons
There he is.
Jai.
CHAPTER TWO
RAE
He’s standing on the dock, tall and brooding, the wind toying with his black hair and the hem of his dark shirt. He lifts a hand to shove the strands out of his eyes and with his sleeves rolled up, I can see the play of impressive muscles in his corded forearm.
I stare at him, scanning that tall, powerful frame I’d mapped with my hands last night, the tousled, unruly hair I’d touched, and the arrogantly handsome face that makes my heart trip and my belly tighten with need. That strange sense of familiarity hits me again and I fight it.
Something is off, I realize as Jai strolls toward us. From the first moment I laid eyes on him, back when I was rescued from the swamps, he’d moved like water, each motion perfectly controlled and powerful.
Yet now his limbs seem uncoordinated, his steps lurching.
What in the world happened to him? He isn’t dressed in the white uniform we were given, instead he seems to be dressed in the formal clothes he had on last night, now rumpled and wrinkled.
That’s not all. As he approaches, I see that his dark eyes are glassy, and the light-hearted grin he’s sporting doesn’t reach their depths. His whole expression looks painted on, a mask he’s wearing. A wall he’s erected.
And it shouldn’t hurt my soul, not after everything that happened. How did we manage to get so entangled in a matter of days?
He stumbles a step, throwing my heart into my throat. I make an abortive movement to grab him. I’m too far for that and I stop myself before I do.
He finds his balance the next moment, planting his booted feet more securely on the paved floor, and yet, for all his weird, worrisome behavior, he hums with power, his shadows writhing around him.
“Athdara.” The telchin frowns. “There you are. Collect your shadows and control yourself.”
Chiding the King’s Sword as if he’s a boy, which is kind of funny, and… I hadn’t realized Jai’s shadows had been prowling about. They are turning into a vortex around his legs, snapping at anyone getting too close like snakes as he makes his way through our group, one lazy step after another.
“Whatever you say, telchin,” Jai drawls, sounding amused, coming to a stop before the bearded priest. “By all means, tell me how you propose to fucking make me do anything.”
The telchin grips his staff so hard the wood creaks. His bushy brows lower, and I swear lightning sparks through his long gray beard. “I don’t need to control you, Athdara. Because that’s something you need to do yourself.”
Jai waves a negligent hand. “Don’t you ever choke on all those huge pearls of wisdom you cough up? Have a care.”
I swallow a shocked laugh.
The telchin turns away to face the barge awaiting us, dismissing Jai’s behavior. I mean… this is different. The JaiI’ve known over the past few days has been brooding, quiet and decisive. As for Phaethon, he’s an asshole. But this Jai… is playful. Insolent. Damn rude.
As if he doesn’t give a damn anymore.
Then again… I recall the way he’d sat at the formal banquet, beside the king. Sprawled in his chair, looking bored. And then his shadows sweeping everything off the table and lashing at the walls and doors like a cry of anguish.
What am I missing? Is this insouciant façade just another one of his masks? Is it the calm before a storm? Or is it something else entirely?
Turning away from the telchin, Jai starts toward us with lurching steps.
But Axwick steps in his way. “What is this?” he demands. “You went and got drunk before the trial? Are you serious?”
Jai lets out huff of nearly soundless laughter. He lifts a hand marked with those black swirls that also decorate his neck and cheekbones, flicks it, and a flight of colorful draks starts circling lower. “Does it matter? I’m not a mere human like you, remember?”
I frown.
“Mighty is the hand that wields the king’s sword,” Mera sneers. “Mighty drunk, that is.”
“Shush,” Amaryll says, shooting me a quick, apprehensive sideways look. “Don’t anger him.”
Ishe angry? If the shadows are a mirror of his state of mind, then yes. They whisper at the edge of my hearing, the whispers rising into screeches and wails. How isn’t he stark raving mad from that cacophony of noise?
