I sighed and lowered my head. Listening to his strong heartbeat, I closed my eyes. With my ear pressed to his chest, his voice sounded even deeper when he spoke.
“But I hope you will put your mouth on me, and allow me to put mine on you.”
I shuddered and gasped, my hand clutching at his side. I knew he didn't mean kissing. Not on the lips. The Dragon King had something more erotic in mind. And now, I did as well.
Raven chuckled softly. “I'll take that as a yes. Goodnight, my foundling.”
“Goodnight, my Raven.”
The King made a sound very close to a cat's purr.
Chapter Thirteen
I slept cradled in Raventar’s arms, wrapped in heat and the steady thunder of his heart. For a few precious hours, I believed I was safe.
Then, a strange humming came. Sleep clinging to me, I opened my eyes to see the King's lava-glass sword vibrating in its sheath. What did that mean? The answer came to me with the clang of steel; enemies near! Lava-glass blades hummed when someone with ill-intent approached. Shouts came. Before I could sit up on my own, Raventar surged up, dragging me with him. Grabbing his sword with one hand, he shoved me back with the other.
“Eliel, stay back!”
The tent exploded inward.
An Okon tossed the canvas aside with a roaring cry. His veins glowed blue beneath gray flesh, pulsing like arctic rivers. A curved blade hissed through the air.
Raventar spun to intercept him.
Their weapons collided with a shriek. Raventar’s lava-glass sword burst into brilliance, the black blade veined with fire, shedding sparks as it swung around for another attack. Therazor-sharp edge bit into the Okon’s armor, slicing through it as if it were paper. The impact sent a wave of heat through the tent, and I cried out, curling in on myself while embers and the remains of the tent rained over me.
Raventar drove the Okon back, slashing and stabbing in powerful movements that used his whole body. The lava-glass sang and sparked as it carved the Okon apart, leaving molten rivulets to bleed out of the wounds. The Okon screamed, not in pain, but in rage, and kept fighting. Roaring back at him, the King forced the Okon warrior away from me.
Cringing away even as they moved toward the rest of the battle, I gaped at the Okon. How was he still standing? He bled from several major wounds but didn't seem to notice. He just kept swinging.
Beyond the King, chaos raged. Dragons clashed with dozens of Okon warriors. The enemy moved like monsters—too fast and too strong, shrugging off wounds that should have killed them. Pale scars circled their throats as if they'd been garroted, and faint blue light leaked from their eyes. When they were struck, the surrounding air shimmered.
Dragons were the most powerful people on Serai, and these Dragons had been trained to fight. They struck the Okon again and again with their lava-glass blades, each impact a burst of fire and song. They were impossible to beat. Still, the Okon didn’t fall easily. They fought like men who had nothing left to lose. Or were nothing. And all of them had a single flight feather in their left wings painted red. Crimson Feathers.
Then I saw him.
Chief Nahel of the Crimson Feathers stood just beyond the standing stones, untouched, his sword in hand but lowered along his leg. He watched the battle as if it were all a game he was playing, moving pieces about with a flick of his sword. Red paint slashed over his eyes, giving him an even more barbaric look than that of his men. Within that red mask, his eyes shifted and locked on me.
A smile curved his mouth. “Eliel.”
Even across the battle, the sound of him speaking my name carried to me, turning my bones to jelly. I scrambled back, but before I made it a foot, something slammed into me. Arms of iron locked around my chest, crushing my wings. I screamed.
The Okon holding me was icy cold, the chill seeping through his armor and into my skin. His grip tightened until stars burst behind my eyes. Breathing was impossible. I looked down at the gray hands holding me and saw those pulsing blue veins up close. They leaked magic, sending it to shiver against me. What was wrong with them?
“I have him!” the Okon shouted. “Lord Nahel, I have Eliel!”
“Eliel!” Raventar roared.
The Dragon King barreled through two Okon in his path, lava-glass sword tearing apart armor, flesh, and bones. Blood streamed down his side from a deep gash in his ribs, but he didn’t slow. He launched himself at us, slamming into the Okon who held me and knocking us all to the ground.
I rolled free, gasping, while the Dragon King and the Okon grappled like beasts. Claws sprouted from Raventar’sfingers and ripped into the man’s throat. The Okon went limp, his huge wings flapping once before going still.
Raventar looked at me, his expression showing a strange shock, and then staggered. He dropped to one knee. Looming behind him was Nahel, his sword finishing its arc. The blade flashed, trailing pale light as it lowered.
Raven collapsed forward, his sword clattering from his limp fingers. Across his back was a deep wound gushing blood. That coward had struck the King in his back!
“No!” I crawled to him, dragging myself across the scattered pallets. “Raven!”
