“I try not to think that far ahead,” Rakos admits. “Sarka will help me take you home, I know she will. But after that, I don’t know. If she wants to fly away with me, we’ll figure something out. Find a deserted island somewhere west of the Jaws. You put me in touch with your scalestone-smuggling friends, and we’ll live out our lives in a tropical paradise.”
“That sounds nice,” Bell says after a moment.
A life with just him and his dragon. That used to be all Rakos wanted.
Rakos shakes his head, as if to clear out the dust of melancholy. “Anyway, I don’t trust a word Vana says. He’s a filthy, lying noble just like any prince.”
“Yeah,” Bell says in a funny tone. “Princes are the worst.”
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CHAPTER TWENTY
Bellamy
Magic shimmers deep within the earth, like hints of hidden starlight. It reminds Bellamy of Sandrelle in a disturbing way, though not as severe. The same nauseating shiver in his vision. Not bright, but painful. Bellamy keeps his head up as he rides, focusing on the autumn-red forest instead. The trees have magic too, but it’s passive. Dark and dormant. The roots only flare bright when they reach towards their prey—
Bellamy doesn’t even have to flex his magic for the roots to settle, recognizing him as a friend in their own nonsapient way.
The Friendly Forest would be a dangerous place for most people, Bellamy can tell. But between Rakos’s magic and his, the journey should be smooth enough. As long as there aren’t any wyrms.
No, the only danger for Bellamy right now is the risk of falling from his horse. Exhaustion weighs down his limbs, buzzing in his ears. Though he rested ahead of the bloodmasque, no amount of rest could prepare him for their flight through the city. The truth about Rakos. The mind-blowing sex.
“Hey,” Bellamy calls out. “Can we take a break for a minute?”
Rakos immediately draws his horse to a halt. “Not to make assumptions, but I’m guessing you need a bit more than a minute, huh?”
“Maybe a little more.”
Rakos swings down from his horse, letting her graze along the roadside. “Dismount. We’ll figure this out.”
Bellamy dismounts carefully. He hasn’t ridden in months, and the ground comes up fast. “I know we have to keep going. I’ll manage for the rest of the morning.”
“Is the problem riding, or your head?”
“Nothing really hurts,” Bellamy admits, stretching out his legs. “I’m just tired.”
Rakos wraps an arm around him, and Bellamy melts against his body. There’s something so stable and reassuring about Rakos. Bellamy likes the way Rakos asks instead of making assumptions about what he needs. And Bellamy can answer honestly without being looked down on.
Honest about everything except the most important thing, of course. Rakos has been so much more relaxed this morning, despite worrying about Vana’s hawk. Like his shoulders have been lighter since his secret shattered. Bellamy is tempted to make his own confession.
But it’s still too risky. Even though—no, especially because he now knows who Rakos is. Telling Rakos the farmer his true identity would have been stupid enough. Telling Rakos the dragonrider his true identity would be insane.
Even a dragonrider who’s apparently tired of fighting.
Rakos rubs Bellamy’s neck gently, more petting than massage. “Why don’t you just nap the rest of the day?”
Bellamy leans into his touch. “I’m a passable rider, but I can’t ride in my sleep.”
“Just ride with me. We’ll move the packs to your horse, and we can ride double. You sit back, relax, and let me take the reins.”
Bellamy can’t see any flaws in that plan. Particularly not the part about sharing a saddle. Actually, it might betoogood a plan. “That doesn’t sound very restful to me.”
“You have a filthy mind, minstrel.” Rakos kisses his forehead, then moves to shuffle the packs around. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”
“How disappointing,” Bellamy says, and Rakos laughs.
Once Rakos tethers Bellamy’s horse to the front of the saddle, he beckons Bellamy over. Bellamy could mount on his own, but he enjoys letting Rakos give him a leg up. He especially enjoys the part where Rakos swings up behind him.
