Page 115 of The Last Slayer
But no, that obtuse man just stood there. My nerves twisted and stretched, then twisted some more until I couldn’t stand it anymore. Somebody had to say something to fill the ear-popping silence.
I pointed at the paperwork. “Apparently, I have a few documents to go through.”
“Yes. One of the many duties of a dragonlady.”
“I heard. I’m so not looking forward to wading through reams of dragonscript.” I started pacing. My words tumbled out faster. “Do you know how difficult it is to read formal legal documents in a second language? I haven’t read dragonscript regularly in years, and it’s totally unfair how no one bothered to translate them.”
He put his arms around me. It was a halting movement, his muscles a little tight. My mouth crushed against his chest, and I shut up. After a moment, when I didn’t move away, he relaxed around me. “That is a chore.” His breath tickled my ear.
“Mmm.”
“Should you wish it, I stand ready to assist.”
Yeah, I thought wryly, he certainly feels ready. “That’d be lovely.” I leaned into him and let him support my weight. “And I have to find my second heartstone.”
“I shall help you with that as well. Assuming, of course, that you’ll allow me.”
Allow? I pulled myself back a little so I could see him. “So…you’ve finally fulfilled your vow?”
“You have claimed your dragonhold, have you not?”
I worked it through. He’d fulfilled his vow…and it looked like he was still sticking around. The tension melted out of me, and my muscles felt like warm wax.
It didn’t mean everything was perfect or simple between us. What we had was just so complicated. The practical part of me said to end it, but my heart told me to see where things would lead. I remembered how panicked he’d been for me on the battlefield. It was a reaction that spoke of more than just obligation.
I didn’t beat myself up too much over feeling so conflicted. Ramiel was my first supernatural lover, after all. And a part of him was incubus, something I’d vowed to hunt down and kill wherever I found it.
Then there was Nathanael, who apparently wouldn’t rest until I was dead. Yet he hadn’t killed me at Leh’s cottage when he could have. Why? Was he really in love with Leh? That was the only logical explanation, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been able to finish me when he’d thought I was her.
My dragonlord bent his head and kissed me. “Medicinal bath?” he murmured.
I’d almost forgotten about that, but I bet he hadn’t. I couldn’t see myself, but I knew I was developing a nice collect
ion of bruises all over my body. Without a word, he helped me out of my armor, carried me to the tub and lowered me inside.
I sank into the bathtub full of fragrant water, sipped the wine Basiliana had provided and closed my eyes. Ramiel’s fingers dug into my tight neck and shoulders in massage, and his lips sought mine.
Time enough to worry about it all tomorrow.
Epilogue
Nathanael lay in his bed. Translucent canopy fabric danced slowly in the breeze. Only a couple of small orb lights illuminated the otherwise dark room.
Most wounds healed quickly, but this one…this one left his flesh open and oozing blood. The salve on it stung and burned. The healing process for something like this was often protracted and unpleasant. Injuries from dragonlords’ weapons weren’t ordinary, and the girl had punctured a lung.
Had it really been Ashera? How could he have heard Leh singing so clearly in the middle of the battle? And Leh’s face…
Except that the eyes had been wrong. Cobalt blue where they should have been violet. That and the song had startled him into immobility. It was all she had needed to make her move.
Fortunately, his amphitere had been well trained. Else Windgar would be awaiting its next dragonlord.
The chorus sang in one of the open auditoriums. The melody was soothing, the pitch perfect. Even with five hundred singers, it couldn’t drown out the wailing of the Four Winds. Supäi was still screeching inside the barrier he’d put her in after she’d visited Besade without his permission, and her sisters were begging for mercy on her behalf.
That incessant moaning of the winds! Perhaps the legends were correct—without a singer in the Harmonia Chamber, the Dragonlord of Windgar would go mad.
His breath hitched briefly at the memory of Leh’s song. How he missed that sweet sound.
He ached. It wasn’t just his body, sore from battle. It was everything—his heart, his soul.
