“Well then, Ever Tenebrae, last of the Syphons. On behalf of King Noctis and The Dragon Horde…welcome home.”
Chapter 16
“WHY ARE YOU ON THE floor?” a stiff feminine voice demands.
With an irritated groan, I crack a lid and look up to find Tove staring down at me. Her hands are on her hips, and her upper lip is curled with consternation while she observes the makeshift floor pallet I fashioned out of a fur throw and a super-soft blanket made of something I can’t identify but am now obsessed with.
“Something wrong with the bed, Frills?”
My bleary attention drifts to Chastain just as he launches himself into the middle of the dragon-sized mattress and starts flopping around like a headless sidewinder.
“That’s not my name,” I grouse uselessly, knowing full well there’s no escaping it now. I’ve made my bed and now I have to lie in it, or my floor pallet anyway. Waving a limp hand in the direction of Chastain and the horribly uncomfortable bed, I address both his and Tove’s questions. “It’s too soft,” I murmur before pulling the fluffy blanket over my head and burrowing deeper into the lush fur beneath me.
“Oh no you don’t,” Tove grumps, snatching my cozy treasure away and then hastily backing up until she’s out of reach so I can’t swipe it back. “You’ve been sulking in here for days. Enough is enough. It’s a beautiful morning and we’ve got shit to do.”
I throw an arm over my eyes to block out the bright light and groan. “It’s called recovering, Seeder, not sulking. Don’t you have a garden to weed or some trees to boss around?”
Chastain snickers and Tove chucks my blanket at him.
“Trees to boss around? Come on,Lizard, that’s the best you’ve got?” Tove taunts, and I drop my arm from my face and scowl up at her.
“He laughed,” I defend, pointing at Chastain, who’s made himself comfortable on the massive bed that makes me feel like I’m slowly sinking in quicksand.
Tove’s snort is derisive. “That’s not the boon you think it is, Syphon. Chastain’s idea of pique comedy is using his air affinity to make fart noises.”
Chastain titters unabashedly, and I can’t help the small smile that starts to tug at one corner of my mouth.
“Get out of that bed,” Tove snaps at Chastain. “If anyone scents you in there, you’re going to be a dead Airhead.”
The Channeler makes a face. “Who’d be sniffing the sheets?”
Tove tosses him a cutting look, and it must communicate something I don’t get, because Chastain pales slightly.
“Point made,” he promptly concedes, his eyes darting around like he’s suddenly very concerned that he touched anything and isn’t sure how to get out of the predicament he’s put himself in without touching even more.
An unexpected burst of wind moves through the room. It lifts the Channeler out of the bed before blowing around the space to clear as much of the drake’s scent away as it can. Chastain floats to where Tove is standing before gently dropping to his feet like a dainty little feather instead of the brick wall of a male that he is. The air once again grows calm and docile, but I look around warily like I expect it to try to sneak up on me.
“You’re right, the bed is too soft,” Chastain agrees. “But I thought you prissy dragonesses liked all that froufrou shit.”
Tove and I scoff in tandem and then glower at each other, offended at the possibility that we might agree on something.
“This prissy dragoness is going to kick your ass in forms later,” Tove deadpans, shoving Chastain when his only response is a lecherous eyebrow wag and a cheeky wink.
My ears perk up at the mention of forms. Do they have a gym nearby, or do they go down to Thrasher Keep? Ooh, I wonder if they have any of those fancy simulators I’ve heard about.
“Why do you look like that?” Tove demands, a guarded look entering her gaze as she surveys me even more shrewdly.
“Genetics,” I snark, abandoning my makeshift bed and getting stiffly to my feet.
The floor was better to sleep on than the bed, but it’s still a floor. I should be used to it by now, but I feel like that ridiculous girl in the weird bedtime story about breaking into people’s houses and complaining about the oatmeal and beds not being right for her. Beggars shouldn’t be choosers, and yet my body is whiny as fuck today.
“Not that.” Tove rolls her eyes. “You got all cheery just now, why?” She watches me like she’s caught me plotting something nefarious instead of seeing a brief flash of enthusiasm that I accidentally let slip through.
“Why are you two here?” I grump, changing the subject and heading for the bathroom.
Tove follows me. Thankfully, Chastain stays where he is.
“We’re your guards…for now.”
