Warsinger James Baldwin (read this if TXT) 📖

caressing her dark skin in ways only a dragonman – or a bird – could see. But even as my breath caught, I struggled not to fixate the pulse jumping on the side of her long, smooth throat.

“Yeah,” I croaked. “I’m sorry… I gotta go. See you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay, lover. Get some rest.” She stepped back, toward the bed, and let go of my fingers.

It felt wrong to leave, but I sketched a bow for some damn reason and fled the room at a quick walk. I angled for the outside as quickly as I was able to, stalking through the Volod’s rose gardens toward the stairs leading up to the Parade Ground and the Hangars. There was an elevator you could take, but I desperately needed to feel the cold mountain air on my face, the creak in my knees and the heat in my muscles. When I reached the base of the stairs, I had a powerful, sudden urge to run. To just run, and run and run… and when I closed my eyes, I could sense Karalti’s heart beating in excitement further up the mountain.

The half-hour walk became a fifteen-minute sprint as I took the stairs two at a time, shot by the startled guards, and evaporated into shadow around a minister who squealed and dropped a stack of papers as I blew my way down the ramparts. Karalti wasn’t moving from her nest, but I felt as if I were chasing her, somehow… laboring, panting with mingled hunger and lust, I jogged until my stamina recharged and then boosted myself across the flat square. When I rounded the corner of the hangar bay, I found the dragon sitting bolt upright, looming high enough that the arch of her neck vanished into the shadows of the roof.

“Uhh… hey!” Her eyes, normally a clear purple streaked with silver, had filled in with simmering white light. She repositioned herself awkwardly as I stumbled in, heaving for breath, and collided with the bunched mass of her hind leg. I slapped a hand on it.

“Tag,” I gasped. “You’re it.”

The dragon shuffled, curling her tail tight against her rump, and sat on it. Then she reared her head back, undulating her neck and fluttering her horned crest in a way I’d never seen her do before. It was oddly hypnotic, and as I watched her, I felt a sudden jerk deep down in my lower belly. There was something about it… and about the way she smelled.

Karalti telepathically cleared her throat, and then flattened all seven horns against her skull. Just like that, the spell was broken. “So, you know what I was saying before, about you picking up on how I’m feeling now that I’m grown up and, you know, things are starting to happen?”

I rolled my eyes to look at her, still heaving for breath.

“Yeah. Well, boy dragons chase girl dragons when it’s time for… you know,” she said, embarrassed. “But, haha…oh! Yeah! I just remembered it’s potion day! Let me guess: you’ll be needing some blood, right?”

Chapter 20

We were ready to leave just after dawn, while the sun was simmering on the horizon and Archemi’s enormous moon, Erruku, was a translucent golden ghost against the pale blue and pink sky. Karalti had taken Cutthroat on a test flight, and now the hookwing hung from her chest, sulkily licking the bone ‘combs’ that fringed her wrists and rubbing them through her head feathers. Suri and I stood side by side, facing Ignas, his Kingsguard, and some new faces I didn’t recognize who looked to me like a soldier and two servants. The Volod was effortlessly majestic, a fine red cloak draped over his saddle and over the base of his hookwing's long stiff tail.

“Look at her, all trussed up!” He laughed, yanking on his mount's head as the male hookwing began to posture and flare his glossy raven feathers at the preening female, who glowered down on us through the bars of her muzzle. “Divar finally feels it's safe to flirt with her, eh?”

“Flirting with Cutthroat is never safe. She's the original femme fatale, heavy on the 'fatale'.” I felt a real, warm smile flush my face. “I’m sorry we have to leave so soon. Thanks for hosting us, Your Majesty.”

“It is my greatest pleasure.” Ignas inclined his head. “But don't think you're leaving just yet. It would be in poor taste not to send you away with a gift.”

“Really, you don't have to,” I said, glancing at Suri. She nodded. “You've already been really generous to both of us.”

“My generosity is in proportion to yours,” Ignas replied. “Because I thought about what was said about Starborn in Parliament yesterday, and it occurred to me that you are not truly immortal. You do, in fact, die… and then rise to die again. It is death, not being dead, that is so terrifying and painful. Yet, you die by sword or fire or fall, and rise up again still committed to Myszno and Vlachia. That is everything I could wish for from a vassal, and your sacrifices ought to be properly rewarded.”

I actually felt my face get hot. Suri, who had her visor up, also blushed.

“I have three gifts for you both,” he continued. “The first will not arrive for approximately four days, but it shall arrive. I am sending a cargo ship with ten thousand bushels of grain to Myszno, which will be enough to keep the people of Racsa fed for the next three months or so. It leaves this afternoon. My people will not starve while I am king.”

A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank you. That will make a huge difference.”

“The second stands here with me today.” He gestured back to three of the people who had rode up with him for the farewell party. “I would like to introduce you to Captain Biru Vilmos, Livia of Kisvarda, and Rudolf Fazekas. Captain Vilmos is an experienced Castellan who has loyally served one of