Sunshine? The dam holding my denial in place breaks inside me, and there’s no way the dragon in front of me doesn’t hear my suddenly scorching blood rush through my veins.
Rooted in place, I watch as Bale lifts into the sky and angles in the direction Rim and Fyrestar took. If he hunts with them, I’ll hear about it for months. It’ll be the highlight of their year.
My held breath seeps out of me once I lose sight of him. I don’t know what Bale’s craving for breakfast, but my stomach sinks with the awareness of what I want and maybe can’t resist.
I’m pretty sure the only thing that can save me from a terrible mistake is Bale not wanting me the way I want him. But for the first time, true doubt sneaks in. Maybe he doesn’t.
But what in the blazing stars happens if he does?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IDALLIA
Bale doesn’t return for a long time. I know he doesn’t go far. I can feel him nearby like an ember on my skin. He’s the start of something hot, burning to ignite. As I wait for him, a decent meal finally in my stomach but nerves cramping my belly, I tell myself all the reasons this infatuation with Bale Cinderheart is a terrible thing.
He’s the Dragon King.
I’m old, but he’s really old. It’s all relative, though, isn’t it? He’s a healthy adult dragon shifter, and I’m a healthy adult…whatever I am.
He’s solitary and always has been. He accused me of isolating myself, but he’s worse. Didn’t he just proclaim himself friendless? It’s not true, but if that’s the way he feels, it must be a lonely existence.
Most of our conversations of any length turn into arguments.
He’s the leader. He makes the decisions. He’s the one in charge. I get to weigh in, and Bale often asks for my opinion, but apart from that, the power dynamics are troubling.
How mine are my birds? If I no longer want to be part of the Elite Wing or work for Bale, what happens to them? Their everlife is tied to Drayke Mountain, to Bale. He created them, so aren’t they really his, no matter how mine they feel?
Unease swoops through me like a host of sparrows. If I’m to have a witch’s hope of living normally as part of the Elite Wing and with my warbirds, I need to get over my starstruck obsession with Bale.
But what if something were to happen? Would it really be so bad? Would I reject what I secretly long for just because Bale is Torridaig’s king, and he can tell me what to do, and I’m supposed to listen?
How well do I listen now? We usually talk as equals—or at least I feel that way, even if it’s not true. Bale makes me feel that way. Isn’t that good?
Sighing, I put a stop to my circular thoughts and remind myself that Bale has not—in any way, shape, or form—asked me to be with him.
Not long after, Fyrestar returns to the tree above. Rim follows him in.
“How was breakfast?” I ask, looking up.
“Plentiful.” Fyrestar’s golden eyes match the tree’s golden leaves.
Rim trills a satisfied sound, fluffing his wings as he settles on a branch. My phoenixes blend so perfectly into the autumn woods with the blazing yellows, pink-tipped greens, startling reds, and fiery oranges, that only the glinting of their bright eyes and sharp talons gives them away. “Rabbits everywhere.”
I smile. “How many did you eat?”
“Enough to not need lunch.” Fyrestar gives Rim a proud look. “And Rimblaze caught two more than I did.”
“Hopefully not so many that a stomachache is on the way.”
“Only too many rats give me a stomachache,” Rim says. He’s just like Sol that way.
“I trust you ate your breakfast too?” Bale’s deep, slightly rasping voice emerges from the woods before he does.
I pivot to face him. After all my racing thoughts and nervous pacing, the shock of him is brutal.
I nod, my breath locked in my lungs. His lightly tanned skin is flushed, as if he’s still warm from being in his dragon form, but his hair is damp and slicked back, the softly curling, dark-brown ends dripping beads of water that catch the morning sunlight and glitter like gems.
I swallow hard. “And you?” I finally manage.
