Page 21 of Fallen for the Two-Headed Dragon

“Say it.”

“I belong here. I belong here, with you.”

He nodded curtly. The ache in his chest restricted his breathing.

“You must go, then.” He had to rip the unwilling words from his throat, and still they sounded brittle, like they would fall apart in his claws. “They’re worried about you.”

He leaned down until their foreheads met, his arms encircling her trim waist. He held her for many beats of his hearts, her little hands pressed against his chest, her ambrosial and honey scent permeating his senses. When she pulled away, his arms released her with great reluctance.

“You have one day,” he told her. She was lucky he had a reckoning to attend.

“Two.”

A low growl escaped his throat, but his fearless mate stared him down until he nodded.

“Thank you.” Her gaze drifted over his shoulder. “What’s that?”

He turned. A shimmering gold envelope spun lazy circles over the dining table. The elegant swirls of magic weren’t the popping fireworks of the council. It wasn’t an urgent message.

“Great Flame take me,” he grumbled. It was probably Ryuu and Anabraxus inviting him to dinner, or something equally trivial. “Two centuries. Why must I be bothered now?”

The envelope unraveled when he came near. It unfurled like a long tongue until it was a scroll, scribed with glittery black letters whirling across the page.

Sir Rathym Odrydimere,

You are cordially invited to celebrate the late King Luvon with us at the New Illuminated Ballroom on the next full moon. In honor of the fair King Luvon and the young Princess Riniya, we will drink and dance knowing their sparks remain in our hearts.

We hope to see you and your plus-one on the dance floor.

Interesting. The remaining elves had erected a new grand ballroom in the fire kingdom? The use of the Fireborn term for soul was another curiosity. Whatever group arranged this party and sent the invitations must be a mix of species. He’d seen plenty of interspecies mingling on his errand to the council headquarters, but for some reason, he was still a tad surprised.

“A party?” Dana exclaimed. “A party with elves! Can we go?”

Rathym grimaced. Part of him wished he’d sent her off before opening the letter, while another rejoiced that she would want to go anywhere with him. He rolled the scroll up tightly and shoved down the knots forming in his stomach.

“It will be full of stuffy immortals and semi-mortals, and a handful of grieving elves. But if you wish to go, we will.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You can talk to me, you know.” As always, his treasure saw right through him. She smoothed away at the scales on his forearm. When he avoided her gaze, she leaned into his vision, searching his features. At once, her face lit brighter than the Great Flame. “Is this about your princess friend?”

“Yes.” The scroll crumpled in his hand. He wanted to vomit the thoughts from his roiling stomach, the words that had festered inside him for two centuries. But how could he? Where would he start? So, he started with the truth. “I failed her. I failed them both.”

He saw his own heartbreak mirrored in Dana’s eyes. She said nothing, just continued her comforting touch. In that comppassionate silence, she created space for him to purge. To grieve.

“I was not a good choice for regent. Everyone knew that. But Luvon was an optimist. He never thought it would truly come to it. Said he would want his most trusted friend to help guide Riniya. The fool said it in front of a high priest!” His fist decimated the scroll. “I’d gone to take care of personal business in my homeland. I was still juggling my responsibilities as Grand Commander. When the attack came, she was defenseless. I should have been there.”

“Oh, Rathym. I’m so sorry.”

“Two hundred and sixteen years later, they’ve finally caught the dragon responsible for stealing Luvon from his daughter. From his kingdom.” He nearly choked on the lump in his throat. The scroll went up in flames. “From me. If Luvon were alive, the elves never would have fallen. This thief has lived for two centuries without consequence. Now he will get his reckoning.”

“Is that like a trial?”

“Of a sort.” He chucked the burnt letter into the cooking pit. It was his turn to pace the long table “Tonight, he will receive the punishment befitting of his crime. Two hundred years too late.”

“Maybe it will feel better to know that it’s over.” Her tone was light. Optimistic.

---