I lifted a brow and my tone sharpened, “Yes? If I'm your mate, what?”
“We'll figure it out,” he murmured.
“Gods damn it,” I muttered as I slid off his lap. But I didn't sit beside him. I went across the carriage to sit on the opposite bench so I could face him. “You expect me to give everything up for you.”
“No, of course not.”
“Yes, you do. You think I'll become a courtier again.”
“You'd be a duke, Galin. Simply mating me makes you noble.” Rian moved his head in a waffling gesture. “If the dread accepts you. Which they will, of course.”
“Hold on. What does that mean?”
He frowned at me. “Dragon Kings must present their mates to their dread. Every Dragon in the dread must welcome the mate into the dread. This is especially important in the case of non-Dragon mates because it gives them a dread.”
“What if I'm not accepted?”
“If a mate isn't accepted, the King must choose between his crown and his mate. He can still be a member of his dread if he chooses his mate, which all do, but he cannot rule since his mate will not be.”
“Great Fulgark,” I whispered. “I could cost you the throne?”
“A mate is rarely rejected.” Rian waved away my fear.
“Rian!”
“You will be accepted, Galin. Do not fret.”
“That's what Geris was going on about when he mentioned the dread not liking a mate who disrespects your seat of power.” I rolled my eyes. Then I realized something. “I left Nuri too soon.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wasn't there to see if King Dhrostan's dread accepted Rontor.”
“And?” Rian growled. “Are you hoping he was rejected and then cast aside by his mate?”
I pulled back, unprepared for Rian's furious jealousy, though I should have been. Had I not just been contemplating the violence that jealousy could send a man into?
“No, of course not,” I said. “I'm just saying that I left before I saw the process. So, I had no idea that I'd face such a trial if I'm your mate.”
The King narrowed his eyes at me.
It wasn't without reason. To be completely honest, a part of me—a small, minuscule part—had the briefest hope that exactly what Rian described had happened. I still loved Rontor, after all. Couldn't be helped. But close on the heels of that hope came a greater one—that Rontor had been accepted and was blissfully happy. Because I knew the love I had for Rian was still fresh. Still a bud. And if this was what it felt like to love him in the budding stage, what blooming magnificence awaited me in the future?
If we ever got there.
And if I was his mate.
And if his dread accepted me.
Too many ifs. More than a usual relationship held. And then Geris had added more doubt to the mix with his insistence that Rian had behaved in exactly the same manner with him when they were together. Rian could simply be a possessive lover. Lover, as in a man in love. He wouldn't have displayed such aggression with his other bedpartners if he hadn't loved them.
Which made it less likely that I was his mate.
“Galin?” Rian snapped.
Vashana looked up, setting her dark stare on Rian with an intensity that was, in itself, a warning.
Rian didn't notice.
