Page 23 of King of Fire and Scales

They finally arrived at the library, and it was just as, if not more riveting than Thalia could have dreamed. There were multiple floors, sliding ladders, and a dominating fireplace adorned with the finest trophies and folklore paintings of majestic dragons. The chairs were a warm green velvet, making Thalia think of the lagoon from her youth.

And Drake’s blue eyes.

“Here.”

Pyralis handed her a thick book that Thalia had to use two hands to carry. She laid it upon a beautiful oak desk and pried it open.

The scholar continued to mumble to himself amongst the hordes of literature as Thalia scoured the text.

She absorbed all there was to know about the Creation Sorceress, marveling at the seemingly boundless reaches of their power. She also came upon a section on fated mates that revealed to her the tendency of Creation Sorceresses to be mated with Dragon Kings.

Historically, it was incredibly common. Thalia felt her stomach twist with uncertainty, then unravel with the memory of that life-changing kiss. She feathered her fingers along her lips, feeling exceedingly erotic.

She thought about speaking to Pyralis about the occurrence of Dragon Kings mating with Creation Sorceresses. He was humming a few feet away from her, but she hesitated. It felt odd to talk to a stranger about what would be a blossoming romance. But then again, he was old, but didn’t seem judgmental.

Thalia lost her chance the moment Sorcha walked into the room. She had changed out of the taut dress she had been wearing when she first awoke from her slumber. She was strapped into a spry tunic, with her inferno of hair pulled back away from her pretty face and stuck out like a flaming fountain.

They locked eyes, and as always, Sorcha smiled with the glee of a child.

“Are you ready to start your training, honey?”

Thalia was leaning over the table with the book on the history of Creation Sorceresses splayed out on the page about fated mates. Sorcha’s eyes flickered down for a moment, then gave the witch a sly little wink.

“I will get you back in time to finish your book. Don’t you worry, sweetheart."

Thalia closed it hastily, unable to contain her own mischievous grin.

“That is good to know. I wouldn’t want anyone to read it before I do.”

The two women snickered as Pyralis buzzed along the channels of the great royal library, lost in his own universe.

TWELVE

DRAKE

The Great Dragon King’s head was in the clouds during the meeting with the War Council. He wished he had given Thalia a good-bye kiss before parting, but Pyralis had been standing there, gawking in his strange, shameless way. It was general knowledge throughout the castle staff that Thalia could be the Creation Sorceress, but her being Drake’s mate had yet to be revealed.

He didn’t want those rumors surging through the grapevine before he got a handle on what Thalia actually wanted.

“My King?”

Mads, one of Drake’s military advisors and a grizzled dragon shifter veteran, addressed Drake in the war room. They stood in front of the table, drapes drawn, their forms swimming in the dark.

“Yes, yes, I hear you,” Drake said, shaking himself from his vision and pointing down at the map Mads was hunched over. “That is where the inn was, and the other was here.”

He ran his finger along the parchment to the area where the first inn lay, quite a ways from the boundaries of Wildwoods. Mads nodded, as did the other three advisors who stood there brooding.

“That is dangerously close to our fault line,” Mads said, trailing his finger from the inn where they were ambushed. “I would suspect that Lucien’s next maneuver would be the castle itself. Or at least, the town and kingdom.”

Drake studied the map, then directed himself toward Olaf, another military strategist leaning against a bookshelf.

“Would you suspect that Lucien would have sent his army by now? It’s been nearly a day. It would be fruitful for him to take advantage of the ambush.”

Olaf was older and far more blunt than the other strategists. If there was bad news, Olaf would give it to him without flowery language.

He shrugged and appeared to be munching on something.

“Lucien has never been a great forward-thinker, My King. He thrives on impulse. Though the successful armies knew when to draw in and when to draw back. I would say this is likely his drawing back.”

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