Bale’s eyes widen. Mine too. “Pet?” he grinds out.
I wince. I should apologize. Instead, I ask, “What if Cealastra is gone and you die without an heir? Who rules Torridaig then?”
Bale’s expression cools. So does his tone. “I don’t plan to die without an heir.”
I wave that off. “No one plans to die. You need to get on that, or Torridaig is in big trouble.” Heat crawls up my neck. It’s too late to take that back, so I just own it and stare at him, my gaze as stony as his.
“Since you’re so concerned, perhaps you can suggest a mate?” His overly smooth question grates on my nerves.
“Forget it, Your Passive-Aggressiveness. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
Bale doesn’t look amused. “Rannigan doesn’t have an heir yet, either.”
“Hopefully his poor wife is fighting him off,” I say dryly. “Especially because that child would rightfully inherit both vampire kingdoms.”
“True.” Bale sighs loudly. “I’ve never wanted a Council meeting less.”
He sounds so weary, clearly sensing an end to a system that was bound to fail. “I’m sorry I said pet. I didn’t mean it.”
His eyes flick to mine. He nods, then changes the subject. “When they burned my city, I wanted to cross the border and burn one of theirs.”
And I would’ve helped him. But… “Do you really think that would make things better?”
He slowly shakes his head, his amber eyes like burning stones. “Not every Bloodwold vampire is a monster, just like not every dragon shifter is good and noble.”
I instantly see students dangling me out a window and jeering about gold. “That’s very wise of you.”
His lips jerk up in a smile, but the sound he makes is as brittle as winter leaves. “You should get some rest. You’re still recovering. I’ll stay until your birds return.”
The moment Bale mentions rest, fatigue slams into me, and I almost wonder if he hasn’t added the power of persuasion to his charms.
Slipping deeper into bed, I pull up my covers and close my eyes. I relax surprisingly quickly despite Bale’s presence, and drift in an in-between state, not quite ready to leave this moment behind.
Bale confiding in me.
The two of us talking in the dark.
I’m not cold, even with the window still slightly open, and I don’t actively miss my birds. With everything else quiet and calm, even my heartbeat for once, I can hear Bale breathing. I can smell him, too, that combination of dry leaves, woodsmoke, and wind. His scent reminds me of that huge pile of autumn leaves old Gus used to rake up for me behind Glarraden House. Gus was already ancient when I was a child, but he’d still find the strength to hoist me up and toss me into the pile. I loved it. And I wasn’t alone. He died and returned to the stars when I was only five. I was sad for months, and nobody noticed.
I lift heavy lids and see Bale watching over me from the foot of my bed. I’m not alone, even without my birds.
I don’t wake until morning. My phoenixes are back, and Bale is gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY
IDALLIA
The following afternoon, Bale summons us all to training at our usual location next to Upper Drayke Lake. Fyrestar and Rimblaze get to participate, but I’m told in no uncertain terms to sit aside with Sol. It’s fine. I don’t love everyone else getting to keep in shape and learn while I have to sit on a rock and watch, but I also know my limits. I might not be staggering around anymore, but I’m not up for a fight against the best warriors in Torridaig.
A little rest can’t hurt. And the sunshine feels wonderful.
I tilt my head back, soaking it in. I won’t tan, but the rays feel nourishing on my skin, and like they’re sinking into my black hair and feeding me as much strength as that meat soup Sybil keeps bringing.
It was meat soup for breakfast and lunch today. It’ll probably be meat soup for dinner.
My stomach always feels a bit off after eating it, but it must be doing me good. I’m getting stronger by the hour.
A blaze roars, drawing my gaze back to the combat scorching up the field. Watching the team train in scales is impressive. The ferocity. The pure instinct. The fire and flight. It’s a dragon shifter’s natural way to fight, and they only get to use this part of themselves against marauding werebeasts now. Too bad marauding blood thieves don’t burn like weres.
