“Like I said, I didn’t get his name. But he was a big guy. His skin was light blue and he had dark hair. His clothes looked new and expensive, so I figured he was another one of those bored rich people who come through every summer. Oh, and his horns had metal on them.” Alashiya soaked up the last of her stew with a small corner of bread, her eyes lowered. “He wasn’t unpleasant, but something about him didn’t sit well with me. I don’t know what it was.”
The description meant little to him. There were many blue dragons in the world, and even more big ones. The only unique detail she’d offered was that he had gilded horns. That was a sign of a noble birth which had more or less been destroyed by the war, when metals couldn’t be spared for something like vanity or a display of rank. Afterward, it was seen as a mark of an old-timer, someone who was stuck in the past. The only people he knew who still sported gilded horns were either on the old continent or those few who still clung to the old ways.
It didn’t mean anything necessarily, but it also didn’t bode well at all.
Of course, it was possible it was just a coincidence. Dragons weren’t confined to the Draakonriik. They could live anywhere and do whatever they liked, including hiring someone to take them on a hunting trip in the Shifter Alliance.
But the odds of a dragon appearing not long after Taevas landed on Alashiya’s land weren’t great. He’d never met a dragon who liked to hunt on foot. They were aerial predators. Most would find a walk in the forest about as pleasant as Taevas had.
But if a dragon lost something in the woods…
Chapter Nineteen
A chill randown Taevas’s spine. “You said he hired Monty for a week?”
“That’s what it sounded like, yeah.” Alashiya grabbed her bowl and stood. He watched her make a quick trip back to the kitchen with his heart jammed in his throat.
There was a chance the dragon had nothing to do with his capture, but he knew for a fact that at least one had been involved in it. The idea that Alashiya might’ve been in the presence of that person, stuck between them and a man who thought nothing of harassing her, whileheremained confined to the nest, filled him with a terrible, impotent rage. Not at the situation, nor even at the aggressors, but at himself.
What was he good for, if not protecting the people he cared for?
He needed to warn her again, to make absolutely certain that she understood the risks of encountering that dragon or telling anyone he was with her, but Taevas found his ability to speak hampered by his shame.
How long had he dreamed of meeting her, only to find that when the time came, he was a burden, unable to so much as defend her from the threats he’d brought to her door? He wasIsand of the Draakonriik, but he’d been reduced to complete dependence on her for everything — shelter, food, and now defense.
The delicious food curdled in his belly. He’d set the tray aside by the time Alashiya made her way back into the room. She gave him a small, nervous smile and made to settle at her workbench again, but this time Taevas found his voice.
“You work too hard,minu metsalill.It’s late. You should stop.”
“I need to get this done,” she replied, head already bent over her task. “I’m behind, and I can’t deliver it late.”
Guilt gnawing at him, he soothed, “I’mcertainyour customer won’t mind.”
“I would.”
“It is good to be proud of your work,” he argued, “but not if it hurts you. Come sit with me. I want to speak to you more before my body betrays me again.”
He expected her to immediately refuse, but she surprised him with a long, thoughtful pause. “I really have to finish this.”
“Then bring it with you. Show me how you make such beautiful things. I’ve watched you work for days. Now I want to know everything about it.”
It felt like a victory when she eventually replied, “I can’t bring the whole thing over there, but… I could bring a smaller part, if youreallywant to see.”
“I do,” he emphatically replied.
She didn’t move right away, and he got the sense that she was warring with herself, like she was trying to talk herself out of it but couldn’t quite manage the task. At last, she gathered her things and slowly made her way back across the room. He wanted her,neededher in the nest beside him, but she settled on her cushion again — near enough to touch but too far for comfort.
Settling her various tools beside her on the floor, Alashiya spread a fine velvet sash across her supple thighs. The ends were pointed, and from each fell a delicate gold tassel. Across its lengthwas a collection of celestial motifs wrought in gold, half-finished but unmistakably beautiful.
Taevas’s fingers itched to touch it. Without thinking, he reached for it, but Alashiya snatched it away. “Don’t touch,” she ordered, sounding appalled.
For a moment, he forgot that she had no idea who he was, nor that the sash already belonged to him. It didn’t matter. It was still his and he wanted it.
Drawing himself up as much as he could, he demanded, “Why not?”
“Because it’s forhim,not you.” Alashiya eyed him suspiciously, like he might try and snatch it out of her lap again.
“Who’shim?”he asked, knowing full-well that sash went withhisrobe, which he’d had handmade and shipped to the atelier months ago.
