I’d forgotten how it looked to newcomers. To me, it was simply home, functional, orderly, and predictable. But through her eyes, it must appear stunning.
The walls curved upward into natural arches, the stone polished smooth by generations of dragon fire until it gleamed like dark glass. Gemstones glowing with captured dragon flame had been embedded in the walls at regular intervals. Sapphires cast cool blue light, emeralds washing sections in verdant green, and rubies pulsed with warm crimson. The effect created pools of color that shifted as we passed and painted Adele’s pale skin in jewel tones.
The floor beneath my claws had been inlaid with geometric patterns of precious metals, forming intricate designs that mapped the history of my bloodline. Tapestries hung between the gemstone sconces, woven from fireproof dragon silk, depicting the founding of our kingdom.
A handful of my people moved through the courtyard at this late hour. They stopped and bowed, their eyes widening at the sight of the witch on my back. I could feel their curiosity like a physical weight.
We’ll make formal introductions in the morning,I told Adele.It’s late.
“Of course,” she said, but she was so busy twisting to look at everything, she nearly unseated herself. “Are those actual dragon scales in the tapestries? And the metallurgical work in the floor is extraordinary. The precision required to create those joins without visible seams would require temperatures hot enough to?—”
She was also analyzing my home like a research project.
Allow me to help you down,I said.
“Oh, no, I can do it. It looks pretty simple.”
All right. I waited for her to dismount. She tumbled off me gracelessly, making an oof sound when she reached the polished floor. Fletcher slid off after her, immediately sprawling flat as if to reassure himself that solid ground still existed.
She peered around as I shifted back into my regular form—completely clothed in the same outfit.
She glanced my way and snorted. “I’d wondered.”
“About what?” I rasped. My voice was always scratchy after shifting. It had nothing to do with this strangely appealing witch.
“If you’d wind up naked.”
I blinked. “What would you do if I was?”
Her smile rose, and my heart came to a standstill. “Rip off the skirt of my gown and give it to you to cover yourself up with.”
“What if I wanted to stride about naked?”
Her gaze slid down my form in a much too clinical way. “I can’t say that I’d be horribly upset about that.”
She’d actually notice me? I wasn’t sure if I should be glad that she had noticed me or irritated that it had taken her this long to see I existed.
“Allow me to show you to your rooms.” With her pacing beside me, her neck twisting in all directions to take everything in, and Fletcher padding along with us, I took a route that passed through the Hall of Histories, where the largest gemstones were displayed, just to hear her small sounds of wonder.
This was foolish. I needed to deposit her in the guest quarters I’d ordered prepared that were three levels down the main staircase, in the comfortable but isolated wing reserved for visiting dignitaries. Far enough from my private chambers to maintain proper distance.
Instead, I turned toward the ascending corridor at the end of the hall that led to my level.
What was I doing?
Being practical. The guest quarters aren’t properly aired. My chambers had the best views for her weather observations.
Lies, and I knew it.
The truth was simpler and more disturbing. I wanted her near.
My private chambers occupied the highest level of the caverns and had been carved into the mountain’s peak. Big windows opened onto the eastern valley, providing unobstructed views of the Emberforge Mountain Range. The main room was spacious, furnished with pieces I’d collected over decades, including a desk of polished mystwood, chairs upholstered in dragon silk, and bookshelves carved directly into the stone walls.
And everywhere, organized with meticulous precision, lay my collection.
Jewelry boxes lined three walls, each labeled and categorized. Necklaces, rings, bracelets, crowns. Thousands of pieces, each representing a memory, a moment, an achievement.My mother’s wedding circlet. My father’s coronation ring. The silver chain my younger sister had worn when she’d made her first transformation.
I’d told myself for years that I maintained the collection out of duty, that it was a preservation of history similar to the hall a few stories below. But seeing it through Adele’s eyes, I recognized it for what it was, a desperate grasping at permanence. If I could preserve these objects, catalog them, protect them, perhaps I could hold on to the people they represented.
