Page 12 of King of Fire and Scales

She peered out onto the mucky ground, then took his hand begrudgingly. The king felt the urge to lift her by the waist but didn’t. She stepped out in boots that ran up her calves and disappeared into the hem of her tunic, splashing dirt up against the material.

She whipped her hand away immediately, then stood at the carriage for her father.

“Come on, Father. I’ve got you. We’re going to rest now.”

Drake helped. Though Evanth was sylphlike, he was higher up in the carriage, and could easily trap Thalia under his dead weight if he were to fall. She stubbornly held onto one hand as he took each step, legs quaking as if learning to walk for the first time.

The king held him with the other, sturdy, and unwavering. Once that was dealt with, they were led inside by the driver and innkeeper. Drake ordered his men to tuck the carriage away and keep their eyes open for any sign of an ambush.

It wasn’t likely that Lucien was nearby, but he had to be perpetually vigilant. Once they were taken to their rooms, which were grouped together in a nook at the end of the hall, the king invited them to dine at the inn tavern.

Drake thought Thalia’s head might pop off with how hard she shook it.

“There is no possible way. We have traveled too long. Can’t you see that my father is sick?”

He spoke gruffly at her, standing in the doorway of his room, his cloak dripping faintly with rainfall.

“You have yet to allow me to forget.”

Thalia ignored him, helping her father out of his clothes and draping his arm around her neck to limp over to the wash basin. As cantankerous as she was toward him, Drake could feel the love that resided in her, existing plainly for the comfort of her father.

“I will have meals sent up,” he grunted. “Enjoy your slumber.”

The king shut the door and lumbered toward his own room, which was shabby compared to the luxury and opulence he was used to, but it would do. His men had brought in his belongings, then Thalia’s and Evanth’s. He sat on the bed hard, forcing it to rattle against the thin wall.

Drake’s frustration was getting the best of him. He understood why what he was doing didn’t seem appealing to the Creation Sorceress, at first. But he had been generous, hadn’t he? He had provided her the solace of a dry and quiet night’s stay. He had offered his hand to her to avoid soiling her charming tunic. What else could she possibly require from a king seeking to do his solemn duty?

His dragon lamented and longed to be assuaged of its plight.

She must be ours!

It wasn’t going to work that way. She had to consent to the marking. Plus, Drake was absent of the desire to force himself upon a woman.

He rose from bed, the mattress rocking against the wall roughly. He thumped down the steps of the inn and walked briskly out into the night, skipping his meal entirely.

Drake was far too flustered to settle down in his room, knowing that his fated mate was on the other side of the flimsy wall. He strode far enough from town so no one on the street would see him, and then he stripped down and let himself shift.

Flitting scales of purple, metallic silver, and a dusting of myrtle green burst from his skin as he swelled nearly ten feet into the air. His neck elongated, his claws protruded, wings sprouting from his back like suffocating tendrils. When the transformation was complete, he let out a menacing roar, head craned up into the sky, bathed in lustrous moonlight.

When he was done, he opened his eyes and found he could see the inn through the trees. It sat like a lonely ship at sea, the lamplight drawing him in like a siren’s song.

He ambled, captivated, toward the glow. He realized slowly that it was Thalia’s room he was peering into, and that she stood at the window staring at him.

Drake went to her cautiously, doing what he could not to scare her away. She opened the window she was standing before, her beautiful eyes glittering with curiosity.

“I… I’ve never seen a dragon before,” she muttered.

The king responded telepathically, causing the witch to jolt with surprise.

Would you like to take a ride? Fly with me, gaze over the lands?

She blinked at him heedfully, then looked over her shoulder at her father. He was turned away from them, dozing.

Thalia continued to speak aloud, whispering to the mighty beast that lingered at her open window.

“I don’t want to wake him,” she said.

You won’t. Don’t be afraid. I would never let anything happen to you, Creation Sorceress. You are far too precious to me.

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