by J. D. Monroe
His heart thumped as he stepped up behind her, close enough to touch. “Come over here,” he said, taking her hand. The second door to the workshop led to an outdoor work area enclosed on three sides with stone walls. Against one wall was a large stone forge, with a domed opening. The open wall granted a view of the Ironblade training grounds. “It’s a bit chilly out here, but if you’re using the forge, it will be quite warm, I think,” he said. “My contact said it will take a good while to heat up, but I can speed the process along.”
“Speed the process?” she asked.
He opened his palm, producing a globe of white-hot flame. The reflection of the flame glimmered in her eyes.
“Right, I forgot,” she said with a small laugh. “That’s helpful.”
“I hope this is what you wanted,” he said. “I was—”
“It’s exactly what I wanted.” She traced the rounded opening of the hearth, then leaned over to poke her head inside. “It’s huge!” Her voice echoed inside the stone chamber, trailing into a peal of laughter. When she emerged, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes gleaming with mirth. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”
“You are pleased?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I am very pleased,” she said. “Come, show me the rest.”
A warm feeling of pride spread through him as he followed her back to the interior room of the workshop. One after another, he opened cabinets and crates to show her what he had acquired, while she explained what she could put on each of the shelves. The mundane conversation was effortless, setting him at ease with her for the first time.
There was a thrill of satisfaction at pleasing her, at winning a round of this strange game they played. But that thrill paled next to her sudden openness. There was a genuine smile on her face, one he hadn’t yet seen. It was not the subtle, furtive expression she often wore in his presence. It was a broad smile that impressed a tiny dimple into her cheek. He suspected this was more Ohrena than anything he’d seen yet, inquisitive and enthusiastic. And with that pleasure came a pang of sorrow that she’d hidden it from him. He didn’t want her to retreat behind stone walls again.
While she occupied herself with organizing the fine metal tools, he hesitantly approached and brushed her shoulder. “I should leave you to your work,” he said.
“Oh,” she murmured. Her frown looked genuinely disappointed. “You don’t have to go. Unless you would prefer.” His heart thumped. He wanted to stay, to simply watch her bustling around the workshop he had built. But duty called. He needed to follow up with Councilor Ferha and ensure that a message was sent to the Stoneflight queen.
“I should go,” he said. “But I would be quite pleased if you would join me for dinner. Privately, for once.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Then I will leave you to your work,” he said. He took her hand and kissed it, then gave her a deep bow. Usually she simply let him grasp her fingers, but there was the tiniest bit of resistance as she squeezed his hand back. Her eyes met his over the edge of her knuckles, sending a thrill through him as he released her hand.
“Thank you, Zayir. I will see you for dinner.”
“I very much look forward to it,” he replied.
At that, she smiled again. As the tiny dimple carved into her cheek, he felt that he had won a decisive battle. It was that smile that made him realize that perhaps this arrangement was not all business, and that the game had just changed.
And he intended to win.
It was only after the second course of food was brought out that Ohrena realized she wasn’t on edge with Zayir for once. As a platter piled high with savory bread was placed in front of her, her heart was steady, even as she caught him stealing a glimpse at her over the edge of his wine glass. He looked handsome as always in a rather plain linen shirt and trousers that accentuated his lean figure.
“Tell me of your family,” he said, gesturing broadly. “I know so few Edra.”
She nodded agreeably and helped herself to a piece of bread sprinkled with herbs and spices. The scent of it was achingly familiar. “Is this anta-sol?”
“If that’s the spiced bread from Firlanyn, then yes,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Is it done correctly?”
She tore a piece off and ate it, nearly swooning at the perfect mix of spice and sweetness. “Yes. You have to try it.” She handed a piece to him, and he pointedly grazed his fingers across her hand as he took it. A warm thrill prickled up her arm as she watched him bite into it.
“This is good,” he said around a bite. His lips curved into a playful smile as his tongue darted out for a stray crumb. A sudden surge of desire rocked through her.
“You sent for the spices for me?” Don’t look at his lips.
“I sent for a cook for you,” he replied matter-of-factly. As if he’d heard her thoughts, he ran one finger over his lower lip and into his mouth. Her chest tightened at the sight of it. “And the spices, too. Now, your family?”
She’d thought his offer to have food prepared for her was an empty gesture. First the workshop, now this…she suspected she had made a mistake in believing the unflattering rumors about the prince. His charm and beauty were certainly up to her expectation, but he was much more intelligent and thoughtful than she had originally imagined. That realization only made his rejection that much more painful.
Don’t look at his lips, she reminded herself. “The al-Katiri clan is one of the most powerful in Firlanyn. It’s different there. We do not have a queen, but a council of clan leaders in Val Legarra. My father sits at the head of it. As for my family, I have three sisters and a brother. My sister Arali is the oldest,” she said. “Then I have an older brother, Rhuz, and two younger sisters that are much younger. Practically babies. What about your family?”
“What you see is what survives,” he said. “My sister and I are twins.”
“That’s quite rare for Kadirai, is it not?”
He raised an eyebrow. “It is,” he said. “After the Great War was officially ended, there was a great deal of conflict still. Our mother died when we were very young.”
“That’s terrible. And your father?”
Zayir shrugged. “He lives. We have little to do with him,” he said. His gaze darkened at that, and she wondered what shadow passed through his mind. “We were raised by our aunt, who sat upon the throne of Ironhold until her passing. We have several cousins scattered about, and Tarim has her daughters.”
“And you have lived here your whole life?”
“Not in the city, though I have lived in the lands of Mardahl all my life,” Zayir said. “We came to Ironhold when we were young. My sister has had her eye upon the throne since she was tall enough to see it.” He chuckled.
“Why not you?”
He tilted his head, his lips playing into a smile. “My dear wife, men do not rule the dragonflights. I will never sit upon a throne.” There was an odd hint in his voice as he said it. She couldn’t tell if it was bitterness or regret. “May I ask you a personal question?”
“You may.”
“Did you leave behind a lover in Val Legarra?”
Her cheeks flushed as she set down her piece of bread. “Why does it matter?”
“I understand you uprooted your entire life to come here, and I was only curious what else you left behind.” His graceful fingers traced the edge of his goblet as he watched her intently.
She took a deep breath. “Not exactly. I had…I’m not sure what you would call it. I suppose lover is as good a term as any.”
“You went to bed naked together,” he said matter-of-factly.
She laughed, glad for the frankness. “Yes. But we were both realistic. The council families often marry their children off to cement alliances. Not unlike ours. I enjoyed his company very much, but I knew it would not last for long.” That knowledge had still not prevented the tears from flowing when Arimohn told her that he had to fulfill his duty. “He was married a few months ago.”
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“Do you miss him?” he asked. “You can be honest. I will take no offense.”
She nodded. “I do,” she said. “Not as much now, but sometimes I still think of something and my first instinct is to tell him about it.” She wasn’t about to tell Zayir as much, but she also missed the intimacy, the furtive smiles across the room as they silently plotted a rendezvous, and ultimately, the unmatched delight of being in his arms.
“A natural inclination.” He gestured broadly. “My people rarely marry.”
“I know,” Ohrena said.
“You know quite a lot about the Kadirai,” he said.
“I would not want to come and live among you if I didn’t know anything,” she said primly.
“What about—”
“There you are,” a brusque male voice interrupted. Zayir’s head snapped up, and Ohrena followed his gaze to see Kaldir barging into the sitting room, dark cloak billowing behind him like a thundercloud. He clutched something small and dark in his fist. A tiny tail whipped against the base of his fist. “I found this in the queen’s private study. I thought you might like to see it.”
Ohrena’s mouth went dry with dread.
“It’s a mouse,” Zayir said. “Congratulations.”
Kaldir glared at him, then pinned a murderous gaze on Ohrena. “It’s her mouse. She was spying on the queen.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Ohrena said.
“Then I’ll just crush it and be done with it,” Kaldir said. The mouse let out a shrill squeak as he raised his fist. The massive muscles on his forearm shifted.
Ohrena surged to her feet. Her stomach flip-flopped. “Let it go.”
Kaldir glanced at the prince, who nodded. The easy smile on his face was gone now. The hulking bodyguard knelt and put the mouse on the ground. Before she could scurry away, Kaldir gestured with one hand to summon a tight circle of flame to cage her in. Heat billowed back at them from the waist-high wall of fire.
“Tell her to transform back,” Zayir said calmly. “She won’t be punished.”
“Go ahead, Inrada,” Ohrena said. She avoided Zayir’s gaze as Inrada’s mouse form shuddered, expanding into the slender frame of a woman. She shrugged off the robe over her dress and hurried toward Inrada. “You don’t need the fire.”
Heat licked at her arms for a moment before Kaldir extinguished the blaze with a whoomph sound. Sweat poured from Inrada’s pale skin as she rose, wobbling on her feet. “I’m sorry,” she said in Edra. “I was being so subtle, I don’t know how he found me.”
“Not now,” Ohrena said. Dark bruises marked her ribs, likely from Kaldir squeezing her tiny mouse form. She tossed her cloak around Inrada’s shoulders, helping her secure it over her nude form.
“I told you that these Edra need to go,” Kaldir said to Zayir. He stepped toward Ohrena, closing the distance between them in three powerful strides. His proximity forced her to look up at him. “How many more are there?”
“I’ll speak with them,” she said calmly. “I apologize for the intrusion on the queen’s privacy. It’s not what it looks like.”
“Did you send them to spy on the queen?” Kaldir asked.
“I told them to look around the palace. I should have been more specific, and for that I apologize,” Ohrena said mildly. She bowed her head. “It won’t happen again.”
“My prince,” Kaldir said. His fists were clenched, and his jaw was tense.
She glanced back at Zayir, whose handsome face was set in a frown. “Leave us,” he said calmly. “I’ll deal with her myself.”
And in that single moment, her warm affection for Zayir transformed into a tight knot of searing anger. She was not a misbehaving teenager in need of scolding. Her blood was boiling as Kaldir left the room. “You too,” Zayir said, meeting Inrada’s hesitant gaze. “Go back to your chambers. If the others are prowling about, tell them to do the same lest we have more trouble.”
“My prince,” Inrada said meekly, bowing before she scurried out of the room.
Zayir’s presence was immense, with heat billowing off him like the forge he’d built for her. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to intimidate her, or if this was him controlling his anger. Still, he made no move toward her, and instead sat back in his chair as if it had been only a minor interruption of their dinner. “Sit down, please.”
She slowly took her seat across from him, watching as he calmly speared a piece of meat with a fork and bit into it. After a few bites, he pinned his amber eyes on her. “Did you send your maids to spy on my sister?”
Lies spun through her head, but she didn’t want to make the situation worse. “I told them to learn as much as they could about this place,” she replied. “I did not exclude your sister from that. I’m sorry. I’ll tell them to stay away from her rooms.”
“No,” he said flatly. “No more snooping. You will call off this little information-gathering operation. You will—”
“I will?” Ohrena said. “Is that an order, my prince?”
His fork clattered to the table. “This is not a game,” he said. “There are Edra trying to breach this city, possibly to kill my sister. If Kaldir hadn’t already suspected you of spying, he would have crushed your little mouse on the spot.”
Her heart knocked against her ribs. Inrada would have been helpless. “I will limit their movements to the city.”
“No. No more spying,” he said. “You may keep them here to tend to your needs, but they are not permitted to roam about in their animal forms like this. If it happens again, I will send them away. I wish for you to be comfortable here, but I will not sacrifice the safety of my kin for it. This is the only warning I will give you.”
“You’re being unfair.”
“And you’re being childishly naïve.”
Rage swelled in her, shocking in its sudden ferocity. “Don’t you dare call me childish.” She rose from the table, forcing him to look up to see her. “You sit here in a seat of power, among your own people, who speak your language and look at you as a person of respect, rather than an outsider to be tolerated.”
“Ohrena, I—”
“Do you know what disgusting things your people say about me? And I smile and tolerate it because this is a business arrangement, isn’t it? I am an island, isolated entirely from my people. I am bound to a husband who will not touch me, and my only friends are to be sent away for his peace of mind.”
He shoved back his chair and stood. “If you would just—”
“Good evening, my prince,” she said stiffly, ignoring his attempts to argue. She gathered her long skirt and contemplated tearing it to shreds. The beautiful, billowing fabric was an attempt to please Zayir, which was a lost cause.
“Please, sit down,” he said.
She whirled on her heel. “No, my prince. I exercise my right as the head of the table.” His amber eyes widened. “I am done here, and I will take my leave when I please, as is my right. If you wish for me to return, you’ll have to send your brute to bring me down. It will not be pretty.”
“Ohrena!”
He rushed around the table, but she stormed out of the room before he could catch her. To their credit, Teviri and Ahbin were silent as they fell in behind her.
“Ohrena!” he shouted down the hall.
Don’t look at him, she told herself. Don’t you dare look back.
Her chest heaved as she stalked down the wide hallway, heading for the refuge of her chambers. Her eyes stung with tears, though sheer anger kept them from falling. It had only been seconds, but she was already replaying every second of their quarrel, realizing each different turn she should have taken. She should have been meek and compliant, instead of raising his hackles. She should have sat it out, left him wondering what she was thinking.
When they arrived at her chamber, she turned to Teviri. “I do not wish to see the prince,” she said.
The dark-haired woman winced but nodded. She glanced over her shoulder. “Understood, su’ud redahn. I will inform hi
m if he asks.”
“Will you let him in if he gives you an order?”
“You are the princess,” Teviri said. “If you wish it, he will be barred from your room, and the queen herself will have to order me to let him in.”
“Good,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Ohrena!” His voice echoed from down the hall. His footsteps sped up as she stepped into her room and closed the door. Her heart pounded as she walked into her chamber. Would he barge in anyway? Part of her hoped he would, though she wasn’t sure what it would prove.
Inrada was sitting on the chair at her vanity, talking quietly as Pamin combed her tangled hair. She surged to her feet as Ohrena walked in, babbling in Edra. Tears streaked her face. “I’m so sorry, I was being so subtle. He must have smelled me. He knew right where I was, and—”
“It’s all right,” Ohrena said, grasping her arm. “I’m not angry at you. But if anyone gets caught again, he will send you all away, and I can’t have that.” Her throat clenched. “I can’t be alone.”
Pamin nodded, her blue eyes solemn. “What should we do?”
“Get word to Zahila,” Ohrena said. “Lie low for a few days. You can spend time with me in the workshop so that you’re seen. No transforming. Kaldir will be watching for it, and he’ll smell it if you do.”
A muffled voice rose beyond the door. “I am the prince of this castle,” Zayir protested.
“I have my orders, su’ud redahn. I apologize,” Teviri said firmly.
The door rattled in its frame as he pounded against the wood. “Ohrena. Please open the door and speak to me.”
Ohrena and her Flock were silent as they watched the door. She made no move toward the door.
“I’m sorry, my prince,” Teviri said. Her voice was resolute, but polite.
“Don’t apologize to me again,” he barked. He knocked on the door again. “This is not how to deal with things. I’m not trying to make you miserable. Please just open the door.”
She wanted to open the door. In the brief moments that had passed, she regretted the whole exchange. Her anger and embarrassment at being caught had swept over her, clouding her judgment. But if he was just going to come in and lecture her about sending the girls away, she didn’t want to hear it. Her more vindictive side wanted him to feel isolated and alone, confused at her rejection as she had been.