“Allow me,” he said and took the scarf from me. “Oh. Oh, my. This is fascinating. Are these compartments for your wings?”
“Yes.” I turned and presented my wings. “If you could just slip each one into the appropriate sheath?”
“Yes, of course.” The King's fingers brushed the sensitive bones of my wings as he drew my lower left wing into a sheath, then the lower right. Once he had those in, he sheathed the upper wings.
I shivered under his touch, my eyes closing involuntarily as the delicious sensations ran down my spine. And then King Rianvar stepped forward, pressing his chest against my back as he draped the ends of the scarf over my shoulders.
Remaining there, he bent his head and whispered in my ear, “Where do these go?”
“I just slide the ends beneath my lapels.” I turned my head, bringing our faces together, and took the ends of the scarf from him. Holding his stare, I tucked them beneath my lapels and left the ends to fall in elegant folds.
The King stepped around me, sliding his hand along my back, and inspected the result. “Very nice. You'll still need a cloak though.”
“Will I?”
“It's gotten colder.” He grinned and held open his cloak. “Unless you'd like to share mine.”
“A very nice offer indeed. But no, thank you,” I said as I turned and went into my workroom. I came back with my cloak on.
“What a pity,” King Rianvar murmured as he opened the door for me.
After we stepped out, I locked the door, then the King escorted me to his carriage, one less adorned than the first I'd seen him in. A uniformed man waited beside the carriage. He bowed and opened the door for us. Holding my hand, King Rianvar helped me onto the hanging step and into the carriage. Only then did he climb in.
The door shut, and the carriage rolled away from my shop.
“It's warm in here,” I said, pushing my cloak back.
“There are Fire crystals beneath the seats,” King Rianvar said and tapped the bench with his heel.
I'd been in royal carriages before, so this didn't surprise me. Nor did the luxurious fabrics that covered the cushions and windows. Even the sconces on the walls were stunning, made to resemble roses. None of that really mattered. It could have been the simplest coach, and I would have still felt nervous. Because with the curtains shut, I felt cocooned in the carriage with the King. And he was sitting so close.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Just a restaurant.” He shrugged. “Somewhere new for you, I hope.”
“I've only been to a few places, so your hope will probably be fulfilled.”
The King leaned closer to say, “I have more than one hope for this evening.”
“Let's take them one at a time.”
He chuckled and straightened. “As you wish.”
We rode in silence, a heavy silence filled with hot looks. I couldn't say how far we went. With the curtains shut and my nerves so heightened, I had no idea how much time or distance had passed. It could have been a few seconds or a few hours before the carriage stopped. And then time bounced back intomy keeping. I was able to judge that it was only a few seconds before the uniformed man opened the carriage door.
The Dragon King exited first, then held his hand in to me. I took it, even that small touch sending a zing through me, and climbed out of the carriage. As I stepped onto the sidewalk, I looked up. Before me was a three-story building, its white plaster walls criss-crossed with dark wood beams that led the eye upward to where the roof angled into a point. It was a common architecture for Vagasof, but the front door was exceptional—a solid piece of wood carved with intricate designs. It opened as we approached, and a Graen woman stepped out. Slender and tall, her features were even more delicate than mine.
I found it odd that Sken produced two mountain races that were so different from each other. While the Ricarri were massive and muscular, the gentle Graen were graceful and slim. Both races produced many artisans, though they differed greatly in style. When making things purely for pleasure, the Ricarri created bold designs, usually weapons. The Graen were gifted with Stone Magic and were known for creating lifelike sculptures and beautiful architecture with spires that rivaled the mountaintops. Of course, those buildings were limited to their cities and were rarely seen by outsiders.
The woman bowed and waved us inside. “We have your table prepared, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you.” King Rianvar offered me his arm.
I placed my hand on the King's forearm, and he escorted me inside as the carriage rolled away. The woman closed the door behind us, then slipped in front to lead us toward a grand staircase that took up most of the entry hall. We followed her upit and to the left. Down a corridor we went, past rooms full of little tables, and not a single one of those tables was empty. I'd never been in such a large and busy, yet quiet restaurant.
Instead of entering one of the dining rooms, the woman went to a narrow stairwell at the end of the hall and up it. We followed her upstairs, passed a doorway, and kept going. Coming to a stop at last, I was surprised to find myself in a glass room, the walls made of window panes fitted together with iron. Plants grew around the edges, hiding the rooftop and the rest of the city so that it felt as if we had emerged into a jungle. Lights hung from the branches of the taller plants and nestled in pots, leading the way to the center of the room where a table for two waited.
The round table was set with linen, silverware, and crystal glasses, the fine settings lit by two slender candles in silver candlesticks. A sideboard nearby, nestled among the plants, held pitchers of water, bottles of wine, stacks of napkins, extra utensils, and plates. The woman hurried over to the sideboard to grab a pitcher and pour water into two glasses.
