She arches black brows. “Great. Then we can literally swim in gold instead of just rolling around in it.”
I bark a sudden laugh, startling a snuffle from Embersol. Idallia leans forward and lays a reassuring hand on the young bird, scowling at me to be quiet.
Sitting next to her, I lower my voice. “Dragons have a particular relationship with gold.” Maybe that’s why her eyes captivate me.
She leans back once Embersol settles. “There’s no dragon in me.”
“Which is why you don’t care about hoarding gold.”
Her expression turns pensive. “No, I do hoard it. When Rita and Gerard are gone, I’m going to gut Glarraden House, throw everything away, and start over. The place is huge. It’ll cost me a fortune.”
I nod thoughtfully. I can already picture what she’ll do to the country mansion just from knowing her. It’ll be unpretentious and clean-lined, unembellished without being bleak. There’ll be ample space for huge wingspans in every room and down every corridor, nothing to easily catch fire from stray sparks, and good roosting spots all over the place.
Longing spreads through me for inclusion in that comfortable home she’ll create. “Will you be sad when they’re gone, even if it gives you Glarraden House and all that land?” Rita and Gerard are long-lived, like all dragon shifters. And they’re not warriors, giving them a good chance of lasting a very long time. However, they already weren’t young when I dropped Idallia on their doorstep, and I estimate they’ve now lived about three-quarters of their natural lives. Barring a tragedy, Idallia should outlive them by far.
She seems to think about my question, those golden eyes growing distant and a little unsure. Her gaze sweeps down, and she plucks at the belt of her robe, making my mind jump back to the thin scrap of a nightgown underneath. The outline of her body against the fading daylight hits me in a scorching flash of memory, and desire thumps in my groin. Inside me, instinct growls with feral intensity, urging me to slake a need that’s been building for years.
I breathe slowly, evenly, forcing calm over the man and asserting control over the dragon.
“I’ll miss them in a way,” she finally answers.
“In a way?”
She shrugs. “I spent so long trying to get them to notice me that I imagine I’ll feel a little lost when I don’t have that impulse anymore, especially when I’m at Glarraden House.”
Her confession strikes like a dagger through my chest. Worse, her pain is my fault—partially, at least. “I hope you’re not lonely anymore.”
Her gaze immediately swings to her birds, and that dagger twists. Has she ever turned to me first? “Not at all. But my memory is too good. Nothing ever fades, so my whole life feels like yesterday.”
“You know you’re exceptional in that way?” I lean a little closer, keeping my voice low. “It’s the same in combat. You remember every move anyone makes, which means you can anticipate just about anything from the slightest twitch.”
She swivels in her chair to face me. Her feet are still up, her arms around her shins. She looks young this way. Or maybe it’s the doubt clouding her expression, taking away decades of the skills and confidence she’s built with the Elite Wing. “That only helps when I’m really concentrating. Otherwise, I’m too slow.”
“You’re not too slow. You just feel that way because you’re so fast when you’re truly focused and…free.” I can’t think of a better way to say it. She’s either free or caged, and there’s a real difference. Except Idallia’s caged is what most highly skilled warriors can only strive for. She’s comparing herself to the five best fighters in the kingdom and me. I chose the Elite Wing for a reason. Her free is the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen, and if she wasn’t hindered by the circumstances keeping her from reaching for the stars, there’s a good chance she’d even beat me.
Unless I shifted against her.
She sighs. “Too bad my free isn’t guaranteed.”
“I know.” And being the one to know why it isn’t makes me very uncomfortable with this conversation. I try to find the positive. “But when that moment hits and you just go, you can be hard to see, even for me,” I admit, wedging myself sideways to face her.
She seems pleased with that, though her smile turns into a grimace. “Sometimes I go too fast, and I don’t know what I’m doing until it’s already done.”
I wave that off. “So far, you haven’t stuck a sword in a friend instead of a foe, so I think you’re more aware of yourself than you realize.”
“Let’s hope.” Her focus strays back to her birds.
My gaze following hers, I ask, “How do you find room on your bed?” Her bed’s made for two, but there’s definitely no space for another person in it. There’s barely room for her.
Her low laugh warms my blood. “They don’t usually sleep with me. They’ll snuggle up for a bedtime chat but then go to their roosts. They’re just staying close to help me recover.”
I nod. They’re all she needs. That much is clear.
“Bale?” Her oddly cautious tone makes my heart flip uncomfortably. I turn back to her, wishing I could take the sudden fragility out of her expression, crush it in my fist, and hand it back to her as the rock-hard diamond I know she is.
“I’m here,” I say hoarsely.
“What happened near Draywood really scared me. I keep seeing it over and over.” She gingerly touches one of the bite marks on her neck. “And I have this knot in my stomach that won’t go away. And Rim.” Her voice wavers, and she clamps her mouth shut.
