“I think perhaps another fire wielder might be more helpful than a human,” he whispers as her words wash over him. Magnetically drawn to her, he dips his head and nuzzles her nose. Her breath is warm on his lips, and she exudes a hint of smokiness from her blaze earlier.
“I don’t need more fire,” she murmurs. “I have plenty of heat to share.” Then she kisses him softly. Without urgency. As if they have nowhere to go and nothing to do but be together here in this garden.
His hands slip to her waist over her leathers, and he just rests them there. She’s the most alluring mix of soft and strong, with a wildness about her that makes him ache to experience every facet of her person.
When she pulls away from the kiss, he draws her to his chest and wraps his arms around her, and she rests her head against his shoulder. Eventually, he presses his lips to her temple and lets her go, offering her his hand again. “Together?”
“Always.” She places her palm in his and smiles up at him. Her grip is sure and warm but not burning as they step into the mist of the labyrinth. Her magic light does little to cut through the fog, and Rominy gulps at the speed with which the haze envelops them.
“Slow and steady,” she says.
They make their way down the path, cautiously peering around the corner before continuing, though it’s almost impossible to see anything in the thick fog.
Then, like last time, as quickly as it appeared, the fog dissipates, leaving only inky blackness beyond the circle of Elowyn’s light.
This is it. This is where they stumbled upon the dragon before.
Elowyn squeezes his hand before letting go and angling her body in front of him. It feels wrong to let her shield him, but he follows her lead. She’s far more qualified to chase dragons than he is.
He barely blinks as he stays at her back, shuffling quietly behind her. At least he can protect her from behind. Or try to.
She lifts her hand in a fist, and he stills as they peer into the darkness. Then he sees it. The faint glint of her light reflecting off what could only be a dragon’s scales. The glint shifts slowly up and down in a methodical rhythm. Breathing? Is the dragon asleep?
Perhaps they should leave it that way.
A knee-high wall of fire suddenly appears between them and the sleeping dragon, and Rominy flinches at the bright light.
Hopefully, that was Elowyn’s doing.
He can make out the dragon better now. It’s green, as before, and it must be in a deep sleep not to have noticed the firewall separating them.
Elowyn whispers something Rominy can barely hear about gold, and he almost tips over when the most dazzling golden circlet full of jewels appears in her hand out of nowhere.
What kind of magic is that?
And what does she plan on doing with a crown? All the stories say dragons hoard gold, but he wasn’t sure if that part was true or not. It must be. Unless Elowyn plans to wear the circlet, which seems unlikely.
“Whatever happens, I love you,” she whispers over her shoulder.
Stars above. Is that supposed to make him feel better?
Before he can respond, the steady breathing stops, and that yellow eye blinks open again.
This was a bad idea.
The dragon’s attention flits from Elowyn’s fire to the circlet in her hand to Elowyn’s face before returning to the fire again.
How much can it even see?
Then it shifts to a standing position.
It’s actually a lot smaller than it looked before. It blended so well into the hedge during the day that it was difficult to tell where the scales ended and the bushes began, but the light reflecting off the dragon’s hide makes it easier to discern in the shadowy night.
“If I did that right, it will accept my flames,” Elowyn whispers.
Before Rominy can question that, the dragon huffs in the air between them so forcefully that a breeze tugs at Rominy’s hair.
And along with the air, the dragon inhales Elowyn’s fire, absorbing it somehow.
