Wings of Flame (The Dragons of Ascavar Book 5)

by JD Monroe

  Sohaila sniffed. “You do not.”

  “Apparently, I used to,” Marlena replied. “It’s fine. He’ll tell me what they need me to do once they figure it all out.”

  “How long do you think they’ll be in there?”

  Marlena’s lips played up in a smile. “Curious about someone?”

  “Possibly,” Sohaila said, cheeks heating. Without the veil, she couldn’t conceal her smile.

  Marlena grinned. “Would you like me to go interrupt the meeting? I could tell them General Dawnblaze is urgently needed elsewhere.”

  “No, of course not,” Sohaila said with a laugh.

  Marlena shrugged. “I get it. We traveled for about five days straight. I had to see Velati naked about a dozen times and didn’t get to touch him even once. The one time we had a room to ourselves, he was asleep before I even got inside, and I didn’t have the heart to wake him up. It was terrible.”

  “Marlena!”

  “What? Have you seen him?” she asked, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I mean, probably everyone here has, because no one cares about being naked around here.”

  Sohaila burst out laughing. “Maybe you should go interrupt that meeting after all.”

  A full day of arguments around the council table had left Kaldir Dawnblaze feeling restless. By the time he finally escaped, he could think only of Sohaila. Part of him feared that he would knock on her door only to find that last night had been a fever dream.

  After the day’s tactical planning, Kaldir retired to his quarters long enough to wash quickly and change clothes. Leaving the neat room behind, he felt like a young man again, uncertain of each step with his new lover.

  The fortress of Adamantine Rise was abuzz with preparations for a formal state dinner to celebrate Winter’s Call, a Stoneflight holiday. Distant strains of music drifted through the drafty halls, which were a flurry of motion as the palace staff carried dishes and decorations to the grand hall.

  Considering his last state dinner in Farath had ended with a near-execution, Kaldir had chosen to skip tonight’s feast in favor of an evening with Sohaila. He’d been apprehensive about maintaining appearances until Velati announced he would be finding a bottle of wine and retiring to his quarters for a much-needed evening with Marlena, which was not to be interrupted unless Sidran himself was at the door.

  Kaldir took a secluded side stairwell down to the gardens to avoid the crowd, then strolled the winding path through the leafy sprawl. Thin chains crossed over the stone walkway, laden with glass lanterns like glowing fruit.

  A hundred shades of green, speckled with the gems of sweet-smelling flowers, spread around him. The silver-threaded pillars surrounding him made him feel protected, as if he stood in the palm of the Skymother’s hand.

  As he walked, he closed his eyes, silently offering a prayer to the Skymother. Thank you for bringing me through the fire safely once again. And if you have sent her to me, I thank you double for it. Please keep her in your sight and guide my steps so I can keep her safe.

  He found his steps slowing as he reached Sohaila’s door, his nerves aflame. It had been decades since Kaldir felt any sense of apprehension around a woman. Her kiss should have allayed any fears. But still, his beautiful comet had him on edge. He was afraid that she would slip through his grasp. He hesitated, hand poised at the door.

  Finally, he knocked, each strike thumping with his heartbeat. “Hold on,” a familiar voice called. “My hands are full.”

  “It’s Kaldir,” he said. “May I come in?”

  “Oh!” There was a clattering of metal on wood. “Come in.”

  He pushed the door open to see Sohaila struggling with a precarious arrangement of wood and metal that suspended a glass flask over a large metal basin. Darting forward, he took a heavy basket from her arms. “Having trouble?”

  “I miscalculated the weight,” she replied. She pointed to the one empty space on her cluttered table. “There.” Once he had put it down, she pointed to the glass flask. “Hold that.” He leaned over, holding the glass for her. She ducked under his arms and came up between them, her back just inches from his chest.

  With a smile to himself, he stepped closer, caging her against his body. She nestled into him, sending a warm thrill through him. “Did you plan this to get close to me?”

  “You think too highly of yourself, Kaldir Dawnblaze,” she said primly. As he held the flask up, she fiddled with the construction of metal rods. “You can put it back. Besides, I’m fairly certain I could have just asked.”

  “Indeed,” he said. Inhaling the herbal scent clinging to her skin, he kissed the top of her head, then placed the glass flask into a cage of wire atop the apparatus.

  With deft fingers, she adjusted the apparatus and tilted the flask so it poured slowly into the lower basin. While she worked, he busied himself with kissing the exposed curve of her shoulder. Though the flames of her dragon no longer burned inside her skin, she was still delightfully warm. She shivered, but didn’t move away from him. “You are not being helpful.”

  “I am very helpful,” he said seriously, running a hand over her hip.

  She laughed and bumped her hip into his hand. “No.”

  “No?” he asked. Her face was uncovered, but he wasn’t sure she realized it. He didn’t dare mention it.

  “I have to finish this,” she said, carefully stirring as the flask’s contents poured into the basin. Fragrant steam drifted up from the mixture as she worked.

  “This will help you concentrate,” he replied, slowly kissing her neck, relishing the way her golden skin suddenly pebbled with goosebumps.

  “It certainly will not.” She laughed and wriggled away from him. “Five minutes.”

  “Five minutes is a very long time,” he said solemnly.

  “Somehow, you’ll manage,” she replied. He reluctantly folded his arms over his chest and watched her work. He had always enjoyed simply watching Falmina, whether it was in practice with the blade or brushing her hair. Her graceful movements made the mundane utterly enchanting. When the flask was empty, she covered the basin with a large piece of linen and secured a metal lid over it. Wiping her hands clean on a towel, she asked, “Will you scold me for leaving a mess?”

  “Absolutely not,” he said. “I want you to spend the evening with me, and I’m tired of waiting.”

  “Then give me a moment to change,” she said. She headed for the door connecting her workshop to her bedroom, and he followed. She paused, glancing over her right shoulder so he couldn’t see the scars on her cheek. “Just a minute.”

  He sighed. “Sohaila, I have seen every inch of you.”

  “And you will again if things go well,” she replied. Her coy smile sent a bolt of molten heat straight to his groin.

  She left the door ajar, but he remained in the workshop, examining the mess. She had always been a whirlwind. He’d lost track of how many times she’d been reprimanded as a junior recruit of the Ironblade for her messy quarters. He resisted the urge to straighten things.

  He heard the scrape of wood on stone, then the rattle of something small and metallic. A few minutes later, she walked back into the workshop, wearing a more ornamental blue dress and a pair of matching slippers. To his dismay, she had redone her hair and secured the veil over her face.

  “I would like to see your face,” he said gently. “I miss your smile.”

  Sadness flickered across her expression, her eyes wide. “And I prefer for people not to stare,” she said. “What did you have in mind for the evening?”

  He wanted to see her. No more barriers. But if this was the price of being with her, so be it. He would be an idiot to throw it away over a piece of fabric. “Do you remember our deal?”

  “That I’m yours all evening?” she asked.

  He grinned. “That’s the one.”

  “How could I forget?”

  The sun sank beyond the horizon, casting a fiery veil across the evening sky. Leaving the imposing stone citadel behind, th
ey strolled hand-in-hand down the Serpentine Way and into the bustle of Farath. Merchant stalls lined the road, selling food, flowers, and trinkets to passers-by.

  “I heard there was a big formal dinner tonight,” Sohaila said. “I’m surprised you’re not going.”

  “My last formal dinner with Halmerah ended in a very small cell,” Kaldir said. “I’d rather not.”

  “But surely there would be music and dancing.” She squeezed his hand. “And you love to dance.” Her eyebrows lifted, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Do you still?”

  “I do,” he said. “And have no fear. There will be plenty of entertainment.”

  He led her down into the Mother’s Stroll, a massive marketplace that was still packed with vendors hawking their wares and shoppers of all sorts. He saw the familiar, large frames of Kadirai amidst smaller humans and Edra. Many spoke Kadirai, but he caught snippets of conversation in Edra and Chari. He knew very little of either language, but there was something pleasing about the mixture of it all. Though he held little love for Halmerah, he respected that she had always embraced the Vak and the Edra as her people, and had taken extra precautions to make sure they were safe in the wake of the attacks on the city.

  For most of his life, Kaldir had admittedly borne some prejudice toward the Edra and the Vak, but the Skymother had taught him a few hard lessons in the last year. First, a human woman saved his life with nothing more than her intelligence. And when Prince Zayir married an Edra woman who was his match in wits, Kaldir had been forced to accept that his people were not superior simply because they declared themselves so. Their strength was a gift from the Skymother, and with it came an obligation to protect, not an entitlement to rule.

  A petite human woman with a child on her hip stepped into their path. Her eyes were bright as she bowed her head politely. “Sister,” she said reverently. “Bless you.”

  “May the Mother keep you in her sight,” Sohaila said politely. Without being prompted, she offered her hand to the child. The boy wrapped his tiny fist around her thumb, and she squeezed his hand. “And you as well, an’kadi.” He smiled, then shyly buried his face in his mother’s shoulder.

  They were stopped twice before getting out of the marketplace, and two vendors called Sohaila over to offer her small trinkets, which she graciously declined. After their fifth interruption, Kaldir leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Does this always happen?”

  “All the time,” she said.

  “Is it strange for you?”

  “After fifty years…yes. It’s so strange,” she said with a laugh. “But it seems to make them feel good.”

  A few blocks beyond the marketplace, crowded streets converged into the stone expanse of Anattar Plaza. A shrine to the Skymother stood in the center, her pedestal buried beneath piles of flowers. Depicting her great dragon form, the statue was carved of a pale gray stone threaded with thin veins of silver that gleamed in the light. Her outstretched wings were covered with bright flower garlands.

  A group of musicians sat beneath her right wing, playing a boisterous tune with driving drums and finger cymbals. Dozens of people danced around the open plaza, all wearing crowns of blue and white flowers. Around the perimeter of the plaza, several carts sold food, filling the air with the smell of fresh bread and roasted meat.

  Sohaila froze, staring out at the crowd. “What are we doing here?” she asked.

  “It’s Winter’s Call,” he replied. “And while Queen Halmerah is throwing her formal party, you and I are going to have a proper evening. Like we used to.”

  She looked up at him, a gleam of delight in her eyes. “Are you sure about this, General Dawnblaze? Don’t you have more important things to do?”

  “Important things like keeping my eye on the city, watching out for the Chosen, and protecting a valuable Lightweaver? I would say I do,” he said.

  The drumming stopped. Glancing over, he realized one of the drummers had spotted Sohaila. He beckoned to her, and she shot Kaldir a look of trepidation before approaching him to talk. Though he doubted anyone would be so brazen as to attack her in the open, he primed his flames to defend her.

  She threw her head back in a laugh and put her hands on the leathery drum head. In turn, she clasped each of the musicians’ hands, enveloping them with a familiar golden glow. While she was occupied with blessing them, Kaldir caught an Edra girl winding through the crowd with an armful of flower crowns, buying a pair of them and adding another coin as a gift. Her eyes lit up as she bowed to him and scurried on to her next customer.

  He returned to Sohaila, who was protesting that she couldn’t play the drum. Finally, the drummer conceded and started playing again, a bright smile on his face. She turned, brow furrowed as she searched the crowd. When her gaze landed on Kaldir, he saw the subtle shift in her posture, and the light in her eyes that came with her unseen smile. It warmed him, making him feel as if the entire universe had smiled at him.

  As soon as she was in arm’s reach, he placed the crown of blue and white flowers on her head. She laughed, reaching up to touch it. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “I even got matching colors so you would have no excuse.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Where’s yours?”

  With a smug smile, he placed the second crown on his head. “Any other objections?”

  “I suppose not,” she said, reaching up to adjust the wreath on his head.

  He caught her hand and kissed it. Then he spun her around and swatted her bottom. She let out a clipped peal of laughter. “Then you are going to dance with me.”

  Her small fingers twined into his. The musicians launched into a quick balaha tune, sending the dancers into two concentric circles. He nearly forgot to breathe when she began to move, as graceful and tempting as she had been fifty years ago. The shimmy of her hips and the subtle twist of her fingers were sheer enchantment. That was the dance that had first caught his eye all those years ago.

  The man next to him bumped into him and laughed, gently pushing him along. Kaldir watched with bitter jealousy as the other man grasped Sohaila’s hand gently, offering balance as she spun around. She caught his eye, then waved. The circles spun again, and somehow, Sohaila was in front of him, with another woman wreathed in red flowers looking confused as she searched for a partner.

  “I’m sure this isn’t how it’s done,” Kaldir said, taking her hand again. “You should be over there.”

  “A sister of Mara gets special treatment. And on rare occasions, she takes advantage,” she said seriously. The pin in her hair was loose, the thin veil sagging low.

  He debated with himself, then gently touched the pin. “This is coming out. Do you want…”

  Her shoulders rose, and she pulled the pins loose, revealing her scarred cheek. His chest tightened as he regarded the twisted scars. He wished he could put his hands on the one who had done this to her and flay him inch by inch until he begged for mercy. But even with the scars, she was still his beautiful comet, ever burning bright. Her eyes were still downcast, and he brushed a kiss across her brow.

  “You are safe with me,” he said. “Always.” He gently kissed her lips. Her soft lips barely parted. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, but fear still lingered in her expression. “It wouldn’t stay pinned anyway.”

  “Perhaps it’s better this way.” Then he ran his hand over the gentle curve of her waist, squeezing her hip. Maybe it would be easier for her if she was distracted. “Now, we will dance, provided that no one else may dance with you. Ever.”

  She laughed, bringing a twinkle to her eye. For the first time since their reunion, he actually saw her smile, bright eyes and flashing teeth, and it nearly burst his heart. She trusted him with this. With herself. “That’s very selfish of you.”

  “I offer no argument,” he said. “I am a selfish man.”

  There was an unfettered joy in the noisy rhythm, bodies moving together for the sheer joy of movement. She was graceful and energetic, an
d what few dances they did not know, they made up for with enthusiasm. In one moment, he was decades younger, dancing with Falmina and marveling at how lucky he was. And in the next, he was himself again, realizing that the young man of his memories had no idea what good fortune truly was, nor how richly the Skymother could bless a man.

  When his stomach rumbled with hunger, he pulled her out of the crowd and bought a paper cone filled with chunks of roasted meat and wedges of sweet bread. He found a quiet space at the edge of the plaza, where he sat down with Sohaila nestled between his legs. “Do you mind?” she asked, resting her back against his chest.

  “You are far too clever to ask a silly question like that,” he replied. He kissed her shoulder, then passed her the cone of food. She ate a piece of the meat, then offered him one. He took it, nipping at her fingers lightly. “Oops.” They sat that way for a while, his arm looped around her waist, savoring the quiet, peaceful moment.

  Their reunion was a blessing and a curse. He was pleased for every second with her, but it was cruel that he had found her again in the midst of war. It was pleasant to fantasize about taking her back to Ironhold for a normal life, but it wouldn’t happen. He wanted to be optimistic, but his chances of survival weren’t entirely favorable.

  Every second he spent with her tied them tighter together, which would only make it harder to leave. Would it be wiser to keep his distance? Or would it be squandering this beautiful blessing? Not that it mattered. He couldn’t have stayed away if he tried.

  She wiggled back against him, breaking through his thoughts as she stoked a warm fire in his belly. “Do you remember the Harvest Song when we…”

  “The first time I made love to you and you woke half the building calling my name?”

  She turned around, her expression mortified. “Kaldir!”

  “Just like that, only much louder,” he said with a faint laugh. He could still picture her, rosy-cheeked and bewildered as she lay breathless in his arms. He felt like he had conquered the world.

  “And whose fault was that?”