He leered at her. “When was the last time you saw your reflection,
Leida? You draw attention regardless of what you wear.” She flushed at his compliment, lowering her eyes. He found it amusing that she could, in turn, be a wanton in his arms one moment and a bashful maiden the next. He crooked a finger at her. “Come closer. Dragon magic is good for other things besides stealing gold and drowning ships.” He helped her shrug into the bodice, running his fingers along the laces until they stretched beneath his touch, elongating until they were full length strings. He left her to the lacings, having no patience for the strangeness of a woman’s garb.
His shirt lay where he’d slung it earlier, and he dipped it into the stream, using it to cool off his heated skin. “Bathe quickly, Leida. We’ve lost time and will eat as we walk.” He didn’t bother to see if she obeyed his directions, the sound of splashing water letting him know she tended to her ablutions without his prompting. He did the same, lowering his trews once more and gasping as the icy stream water trickled over his bollocks and softened cock. The shirt felt good against his skin as he donned it, still wet with water. He’d dry off as they traveled.
He finished bathing, straightened his trews, and dressed before shouldering the pack and harness once more. He watched from the corner of his eye as Leida picked at the tangles in her hair, admiring her profile, the delicate line of her jaw, the arch of her nose that made her features too strong to be classically beautiful. The tingling sensation in his thighs returned, a signal he was once more growing aroused despite having his cock sheathed to the hilt in her sweet body only moments earlier.
“It will happen again, Leida,” he said, his tone abrupt. He wondered if she thought his statement one of warning or promise. “Tonight, when I must rest from flying, I will take you.”
She continued to work at her hair, finally twisting it into a braid and tying off the end with his hair tie. Her face remained somber as she stared across the streambed to the line of trees on the other side, though he caught the hint of a smile hovering at her lips.
Her words made him catch his breath. “Mayhap, I will take you.”
Chapter Four
They walked until sundown,only stopping twice when Leida had to attend her body’s demands. She kept a steady pace with Magnus, staying a little behind him as they navigated their way through the dense wood. They didn’t speak, for which she was glad. Her thoughts were in a tangled whirl, especially since the interlude by the stream. She wasn’t ready for conversation, even the most inconsequential small talk. The monotonous activity of placing one foot in front of the other and keeping Magnus’s broad back in sight served to calm her emotions, even if her feet ached by the time he called a brief halt. The sun had disappeared into the west, and the moon, still bright and nearly full, drifted low in the twilight sky.
Magnus paused at the base of an ancient oak, its thick sheltering arms creating a canopy of shadows that swayed and shifted on the ground. Leida walked past him, sitting down with a graceless thump. Her pack created a cushion between her back and the tree’s rough bark, and she sighed with relief at being off her feet. It was with some irritation that she stared up at Magnus, noting he seemed none the worse for wear after the long trek. He gazed at her, amusement dancing in his slanted eyes. The pale light filtering through the branches made the silver in his dark hair glow, and carved shadowed hollows into his thin, haughty face.
“You’re tired,” he said.
She felt no compunction to deny it. “Very,” she admitted, “but I don’t want to stop too long. We’ve made good time today, yes?”
He nodded. “Aye, we have, even though we had to walk.”
Leida smiled, hearing the derision in his voice. “It is much more dignified to fly, true.”
Magnus lowered his own pack, rummaging in it until he pulled out a colorful bundle she recognized as their food satchel. He didn’t look at her as he untied it. “Yes, it is. And much faster. You may call it pride, Leida. I prefer to think of it as efficiency. Unfortunately, we walk in the daylight. I have no wish to be shot down by some vainglorious farmhand with visions of adding ‘Dragonslayer’ to his family name. There aren’t many humans so understanding as yourself concerning the close proximity of a dragon.”
The thought of such a thing happening to him made her stomach lurch, and she stared at the honey bread he gave her with little appetite. A memory surfaced, a fearful time when in her sixth year as his favorite, he’d limped into the caverns, snorting with pain. She and the other servants had been horrified to see two thick arrow shafts protruding from the broken scales on his right side. Between the skilled hands of an ancient wood sprite named Dagden, and Magnus’s own considerable magic, he was able to heal in less than a month. But that time was burned into her mind, of days when he’d laid his huge head in her lap, panting and suffering as Dagden cleaned the wound. She had sung to him in those moments, even as her voice cracked with fear and wavered off key, no longer the beguiling instrument that first lured him to her.
“What dark thoughts plague you, Leida? If you worry for your child, we will fly longer, even into the dawn. It will be risky, but it will lessen our journey time.”
A frisson of warmth suffused her. He may have taken the fair Sivatte as his favorite and still nursed a grudge toward Leida for stealing from him, but somewhere in that great dragon heart, he still cared for her. Her cheeks heated, and she was glad for the darkness. He also still desired her, if his lovemaking at the stream’s edge and the promise of more were any indications.
“I’m eager to see Vala,” she said, picking apart the bread to chew on small pieces. “She is everything to me, and I miss her greatly. But she’s safe in caring hands.”
There was no mistaking the downturn of his mouth as she spoke of her daughter, or the flinching quickly hidden. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him he was mistaken in thinking she’d lain with another who had gotten her with child. But he would learn soon enough. One look at Vala’s eyes, and he would know. And then what? Dragon males were fiercely protective of their offspring. Magnus had already incubated and raised a male and four female hatchlings to adulthood. His pride in them was obvious, even the male, Ariadoc, born with a twisted wing and unable to fly.
But this child was human, sired by Magnus when he was in human guise. Leida had heard of such progeny, rare though they were. Most often they had been as welcome in the dragon community as the full bloods. They were long-lived, inheriting the powerful magic of dragonkind. She’d already seen hints of it in Vala, young as she was. What would Magnus think when he discovered Vala was his? What would he do? Few of the scenarios she imagined gave any comfort.
She chewed slowly on her supper, accepting the flask of wine Magnus handed her with softly spoken thanks. He crouched next to her, watching the darkening sky. Moonlight danced across his features, and she thought him the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. The wine was sweet on her tongue, soothing to her parched throat as she drank deeply.
“Careful with that. You will be flat on your back if you imbibe Gersel’s spiced wine in such a fashion.” His vibrant green eyes, shrouded to shades of gray, glittered in the half light as she licked a stray drop from the corner of her mouth.
Leida passed the flask back to him, already feeling euphoric from the wine’s effect. “Your warning comes too late, I think. I feel dizzy.” She leaned her head back against the tree, gazing upward at the white stars winking back at her from the clear spaces between the oak’s branches. A sigh and a chuckle drifted to her ears.
“Too late, indeed. We’ll wait a bit before we fly. The effects are strong but pass swiftly enough, even in a human.”
She turned her head, blinking slowly as her vision spun in an arc and finally caught up with the movement. Magnus appeared blurred around the edges as he dug once more into his pack, pulling out a pipe and small leather bag. Even in her inebriated state, it surprised her to see him with it. In all the years as his favorite, not once had she ever seen him partake of pipe smoking. He’d never been convinced of its virtues or its vice. “Were I meant to breathe smoke from my nose and mouth,” he’d told her once, disdain strong in his voice, “I would have been born a firedrake.” The sneering curl to his lip let her know exactly what he thought of firedrakes.
Magnus must have felt her watching him as he packed the pipe bowl, for he turned his head, giving her a faintly amused look. “There are moments, few and far between, in which I will admit my haste in stating an opinion. This is a soothing ritual.”
Leida laughed, her eyes widening as a hiccup followed the laughter. “You mean you admit when you’re wrong?”
He arched a dark eyebrow at her, giving an audible sniff of disdain.
“I am never wrong, only misunderstood.” The knowing humor in his eyes told her he made light of his sometimes overweening pride.
