The waters settled. Raven made out a garden but couldn’t see more from her angle. Leena’s eyes actively scanned the surface.
Clarissa cracked her neck. “Google Earth in a bowl.”
Gabriel, Nathaniel, and Avery chuckled. Colin and Xavier stared at her blankly.
“I don’t see a gate or a tomb,” Leena said. “I don’t think this is it. There’s no place that fits the description.”
Everyone groaned.
“Try the one next to Darnuith,” Gabriel suggested.
She circled her hand again. “There is a cemetery next to this one and there is a gate, but I’m not seeing a dragon. Also, these graves aren’t old enough to be what we’re looking for. The style is consistent with the past fifty years.”
“Sylas found the golden orb in the floor of the Obsidian Palace,” Colin said, placing a scarred hand on Leena’s shoulder. “I think Medea was a clever woman who would enjoy hiding something in plain sight.”
Leena stared ahead, eyes unfocused, memories passing through her expression like ghosts. She glanced back at Colin and then circled her hand over the pool once more. This time, she said something in her native tongue, and when the picture formed in the bowl, she gasped.
“What is it?” Raven asked.
“Asfolk Orchard. It’s a few miles outside the city. I only remembered it because of the dragon statue… I read somewhere it was a gift from Paragon.”
Raven tried to look in the pool, but she couldn’t see what Leena saw.
“There are no graves near this orchard, but the fruit is gold and round. And the dragon sculpture is right outside the gate.” Leena lifted her chin and stared at Raven. “It’s not a grave, but it has to be it. It’s exactly what she described.”
Raven exchanged glances with Colin. The dragon nodded and said, “We go first thing tomorrow. I’ll send a falcon to Asfolk. With any luck, Rogos and Darnuith will see reason and wait until we have the book to attack.”
Chapter Twenty
Colin closed himself into his chambers in the west wing, looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Spending time with Leena that day had been exhausting. When he’d first found her in the library, his dragon had locked on to her mating scent, the same one she’d put off in the tent. He’d hunted her down like a predator and found her at a table in the back of the library. But if the hot blush that had stained her cheeks was any indication that she’d been thinking about him, she’d made it very clear she did not intend to act on those feelings.
After their initial interaction, she’d been all business for the rest of the day. She was attracted to him. He knew she was. It didn’t matter, though. She’d made up her mind, chosen the life of a scribe, nothing more.
He couldn’t blame her. What did he have to offer her, actually? The youngest son of a murderous tyrant. He had no crown, no income. He could not promise her safety or comfort. Hell, he was the leader of a rebellion, a bringer of war, a warrior without a home, who was fighting for someone else to take the throne. Even in the best of circumstances, he had nothing but death and destruction in his near future, followed by a life of… What exactly? He had no idea what role, if any, he’d play in the future of Paragon if they succeeded.
Although he had no trouble seeing in the dark, he lit the thick white candle on the lone dresser. He wanted the fire, the flicker of life to cast out the shadows forming in his heart. He used the pitcher and basin to wash himself, then flopped down on the small bed. A rendering of the goddess of the mountain hung on the wall. A woman on fire—not burning but thriving. He glanced down at the red waves and divots that permanently marred his skin. He couldn’t feel sorry for himself. Dragons were created to endure.
He closed his eyes. All he saw was Leena’s face. He turned on his side. She’d feel warm tucked in against him. He flipped on his stomach. The tent. Oh goddess, he remembered how she’d felt in radiant detail. He groaned. Thank the Mountain dragons didn’t need much sleep. He doubted he’d be getting any tonight.
A faint knock came on his door. He raised his head. It was late. None of the scribes would be up at this hour. The knock came again. Barely a brush of knuckles on wood. He climbed out of bed and pulled on his breeches, leaving them unbuttoned at the top. Whoever it was, he planned to deal with them quickly.
He cracked the door.Leena?
She pressed one finger to her lips. Silently, he opened the door wider to let her in, then looked both ways to make sure the hall was clear before closing it behind her.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered.
“I… I couldn’t sleep.” Her face flushed, her eyes drifting to his breeches and the open fly.
He didn’t move to fasten it. He was in his own room, and it was the middle of the night.
Colin sighed, his hands landing on his hips. “Don’t you elves have a tea for that? If not, I’m sure Raven could help.”
“We never finished our conversation.”
“I think we did.”
She licked her lips, and Colin’s cock twitched at the sight of the tip of her pink tongue. What was she doing here? Was this some way of torturing him for embarrassing her earlier?
