“Aye.” He shot a sideways glare at Martha and Albionna. “And what were ye told, might I ask?”
“That doesn’t matter.” She rose from the stool, cracked her knuckles, then picked up the cases that held the violin and the guitar. “Can you carry the flute?”
Disbelief washed over him. “Ye expect me to carry the wee black box whilst ye tote the bigger one? I think not, my lady. Set those down. Inuk will see that the servants take them wherever ye wish them to go.” And that was the next question. Since she’d been unconscious upon her arrival, where in the devil’s name did she think she was headed? “Ye know ye canna leave here, aye? Not for fourteen days and nights?”
She gave him such a dark look that if she had been a dragon, flames would have surely shot out of her mouth. “Stop throwing that in my face. I get it, all right? I can’t leave for two weeks. All I’m asking is that you take me to the sick hatchlings so I can try to help them.”
He turned to Martha and Albionna. “Did Tern and Talia not advise the both of ye about yer service to Lady Lyla and what should and should not be shared with her?”
Lyla moved to stand in front of him, as if her delicate frame would in any way protect the pair of maids should he suddenly lose control and fly into a rage. “Leave them alone. Anything they say to me is my business—not yours. Don’t you dare punish them for telling me about the sick babies.” She stood taller, fully prepared to rain terror down upon him. “Now, be reasonable and take me to them. Is there a hospital here for the sick dragons or…” Her voice trailed off, but then her scowl deepened as she struggled to find the right words. “This place seems so advanced in so many ways and yet so backward at the same time. You have magic and telepathy, along with an amazing bathing spa, and yet no indoor plumbing for toilets or lighting other than candles.” She threw up her hands, completely exasperated. “Well? Are the sick babies all in one spot, or do we go from door to door, or cave to cave, or whatever it is you have here?”
Mairwen’s advice about Lyla becoming attached to the weak and vulnerable came rushing back to him. It was as though the Divine Weaver had anticipated this very moment. “I will havethem brought to ye. Ye can see them in the great hall where we receive those with words they wish to share with myself and Talon.”
“You will not have thembroughtto me. If they’re sick, they don’t feel like beingbroughtanywhere. I will see them wherever they’re most comfortable.” She made a face as if something unpleasant had just come to mind. “Unless it’s in a really dark, tight, windowless place. I’m a little claustrophobic. Please tell me we don’t have to go spelunking.”
“Dinna have to gowhat?”
“Crawling on our bellies through itty-bitty caves that don’t have much air.” She clapped a hand to her chest and sucked in a deep, gulping breath. “It makes me short of breath to think about it.”
“While dragon nurseries dinna have windows and are off to themselves for the safety of the hatchlings, there is plenty of air and no need to crawl on yer belly.” The thought of her crawling on her belly toward him rather than through a dark, cramped cave both excited and shamed him. He shouldn’t be thinking of such things right now. He blamed it on the pounding lust of the mate bond that was determined to be made complete. After a nod at Inuk, Merriweather, and Percival, he offered her his arm. “Come. Yer music makers will be brought with us. Inuk and the Twanes shall see to it.”
She turned and noticed the steward and the pair of small but gifted craftspeople standing across the large room, back beside the door. Staring at Inuk, her mouth dropped open and hung ajar for several long moments, then she snapped it shut and appeared to swallow hard. All hint of color left her.
Magnus hurried closer to catch her when she fainted, but thankfully, she remained upright.
“I thought dragons had scales,” she whispered to him, barely moving her mouth as she spoke, “like snakes. Or lizards.”
Inuk moved toward her and bowed his head, holding the respectful pose as he spoke. “I am a cloud dragon, my lady. Dragonkind comes in many colors, shapes, and sizes. Much like humankind with its wide varieties.”
“Oh.” Her dark eyebrows rose higher, and she pulled in another deep breath.
“Lyla?” Magnus wrapped an arm around her and leaned her against him. “Do ye need to sit?”
With her gaze still locked on the steward, she wet her lips. “Uhm…no. I’m…uhm…fine.” She cleared her throat, flinching as she did so, then nodded at Inuk. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude and stare. You’re the first dragon I’ve ever met.”
Lifting his regal, shaggy head, Inuk slowly blinked his long, silvery eyelashes, stirring a breeze throughout the room. “I am honored to hold that status, my lady, and ye could never be rude. I am certain of it.”
Magnus waved the Twanes forward, sensing they were about to explode with the need to be introduced. “This is Merriweather and Percival, the creators of the apinlyre.”
Both of them sprang closer like overjoyed rabbits hopping toward a ripe garden.
Merriweather gave a regal bow, then said, “’Tis an honor to serve ye, Lady Lyla. The magic ye stirred with the apinlyre made our hearts sing.”
“Aye, my lady,” Percival said, pushing forward so as not to be overlooked. “The sound was wondrous, my lady. Absolutely wondrous.”
“The apinlyre is very enjoyable to play,” she told them, still sounding a bit light-headed. “You did a wonderful job in creating such a beautiful musical instrument. It’s the perfect combination of a piano, harp, and organ.”
The Twanes beamed with such pride that they glowed brighter than the afternoon candles.
Still eyeing Inuk, Lyla tucked in tighter against Magnus. Whilst he knew he should reassure her that none in the fortress would ever cause her harm, he couldn’t help but enjoy the way she instinctively sought his protection—as she should.
She disappointed him by easing away and squaring her shoulders, obviously fighting to appear more composed. He didn’t like this determination she possessed, a determination to be independent.
“Is there a place where all the sick dragons stay, or are they in their homes?” she asked.
“We can visit the closest pair of mates I know of with eggs and possible hatchlings,” he said. “Their lair is within the fortress’s protective curtain wall because…” He didn’t quite know how to put it. Frostborn and Bastion needed and deserved the safety and protection of the keep. After bravely battling Kcirred and his ilk for more hectrooms than any other warriors or guards of dragonkind, the injuries they had sustained over the ages had left them unable to defend themselves. They had earned the protection of the fortress and deserved every respect and honor that could be afforded them. Many had also feared that their injuries had rendered them unable to produce offspring, but finally, last autumn, the two honored veterans were blessed with a clutch of eggs. Those eggs were due to hatch at any time, and the entire Realm looked forward to greeting the younglings of the greatest warriors the kingdom had ever known.
“Their lair is within the fortress because of what?” Lyla prompted him. “Is there something I should know?”
