She laughs and punches me lightly in the shoulder.
“That’s not how it works.”
I stare at her with furrowed brows, and the realization crashes over me. I don’t know how a relationship works. I’ve never been in one before, and now I have this gorgeous woman in my life that I don’t deserve, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.
Panic rises in my chest. I know that I have so much to make up for, so much to prove, and I can’t waste a single moment.
I jump out of the bed.
“I need to show you something.”
Tressa moans lazily, stretching like a cat.
“Can’t it wait? I feel like my body is putty.”
“I need to show you something important now,” I insist.
My heart is pounding, because this can’t wait. I need her to understand what I’m offering her. What she means to me.
She rolls her eyes and gets out of bed. She’s moving too slowly, and I help her dress with impatient hands, pulling her clothes on too quickly and fumbling with the fastenings. She giggles at my urgency.
I take her hand and lead her out of my chambers, down corridors and stairs, toward the depths of the palace. Wedescend staircase after staircase, going deeper and deeper, into dungeons carved from the mountain itself. The corridors are lined with torches that I light with a touch of my fingers, and the flames cast dancing shadows on the stone walls.
“I’ve never been down here before,” Tressa says.
I can hear the nervousness in her voice. Her hand trembles in mine.
My heart is in my throat. Because I don’t know how she’ll react to what I’m about to show her. The uncertainty is killing me. We walk in tense silence, the only sounds our footsteps echoing off the stone and the crackling of the torches as we pass.
Finally, we arrive at a heavy door with a massive lock. The lock is embedded with sharp blades protruding from its mechanism. It is designed to be opened only by my family’s blood. I press my hand into the blades, they pierce my palm, and the door unlocks with a heavy grinding sound. It swings open. Magic torches light up automatically when we cross the threshold.
Tressa is blinded by the brilliance and covers her eyes with her arm. When her vision adjusts, she gasps as she stares around the vault in disbelief.
A massive mound of treasure fills the center of the room – gold bars stacked high, gleaming in the torchlight, jewels of every color scattered throughout like stars. Jewelry of all kinds covers the shelves lining the walls – necklaces dripping with diamonds, crowns studded with rubies, rings and bracelets of platinum and gold. Paintings in ornate frames lean against the walls, some depicting ancient wyvern lords, others showing landscapes of Aurumveil. Vases and sculptures sit on pedestals, each one a priceless artifact from centuries past. Some treasure lies haphazardly in the middle of the room where it was tossed carelessly, while most jewelry and art is carefully placed on shelves.
“Oh gods, what is this?” Tressa breathes out, her voice filled with awe. “I had no idea.”
I kneel before her and look up at her face.
“Wyverns are creatures of possession. My family has accumulated this wealth over centuries. We can’t resist the compulsion to gather more and more.” I take her hands in mine. “This is all yours now. I will add your blood to the lock, so you can access the vault whenever you please. If you ever decide to leave, if I mess up and upset you ever again, then I won’t stop you, and you can just take whatever you want and not even give me an explanation.”
Tressa kneels in front of me and takes my face between her hands.
“I will never leave.”
I kiss her passionately, pouring every ounce of gratitude and devotion into the kiss.
“If you want, you can bring your father to live at the palace,” I say when we break apart.
Tressa shakes her head.
“He wouldn’t survive it. It’s better for him to stay where he is, and I will help him from afar. My father isn’t the man he used to be. Through his negligence and vices, he’s hurt me a lot, and I had to do things I didn’t want to do to take care of him.”
Her confession makes me bow my head in shame.
“It was all my fault. I’ve heard about your struggles, and I feel deeply ashamed. I don’t care what you did before to survive. Now you are mine, and I will protect you.”
“It wasn’t your fault that my father failed me when I needed him most,” she starts to say, but I cut her off.
