Page 7 of Of Steel and Scale

“Of course not.”

“Are we talking conjugal rights, then?” I have no idea what he saw in my expression, but his gaze narrowed. “Because I feel bound to warn you, Damon: If you touch me without invitation, Iwillgut you.”

The glimmer briefly appeared in his glorious eyes again, though his expression showed little evidence of amusement. “Warning heeded, princess. But do remember that statement runs both ways.”

I let my gaze drift lazily from the top of his smooth, clean-shaven head, down his well-muscled length, before pausing on his crotch. “Oh, I think it fair to say you’re safe from me. My tastes run to men with a little more... hair.”

He stared at me for several heartbeats and then laughed again. “Oh, if this is but a teaser of what is to come in our relationship, I am delighted.”

“At least one of us is.” I returned my gaze to the sea. The storm showed no sign of easing, and the waters in the cove looked dark and turbulent. It was going to be a hellish trip home.

I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. It had the inner fires flaring to life, heating my blood and making my pulse pound.

“It is a marriage, not an execution,” he said softly. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

But plenty to fear from Zephrine itself. He didn’t say that, but it oddly seemed to hang in the air between us. “So says the man who gives up nothing. Not his friends, not his rank, not life as he knows it.”

And certainly not his drakkons... and while they weren’t “mine,” per se, it was the cut that hurt the deepest. I’d see my parents several times a year, as there were regular councils between the two great cities, but I would never see the queen or her drakklings again. Zephrine was not where she hunted, even if her grace lay in the Red Ochre Mountains. Where, I had no idea. She’d never mentioned the location, and I’d never asked.

I took a deep breath and released it slowly, but it didn’t do much to ease the inner churning.

“You are not alone in giving up your life or the things you love,” Damon said, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. “Remember that.”

My gaze unwillingly went to his. There was little emotion in either his expression or his eyes, and yet I felt the anger in him, the frustration. I couldn’t help but wonder who he’d been forced to give up for this farce of a marriage.

Ifhe’d given her up, that is. Zephrine’s royal line did have a reputation for promiscuity, after all. I doubted being married to me would change that.

But then, this marriage was a tradition forced on us both; me because I was an only child, and he because his younger brother had secretly undergone a commitment ceremony, which he then presented as a fait accompli in order to negate any attempt to force the marriage onto him, as had been done in the past.

It was an action that threw another problem into the mix, at least where I was concerned. In marrying the heir, I would be under pressure to produce a son once we got back to Zephrine.

I really,reallywished there was some way to put off going there anytime soon.

I continued silently down to the boat, all too aware of the man who strode at my side. Which I guess wasn’t such a bad thing. Being physically attracted to the man I was about to spend the rest of my life with was a far better option than being repulsed.

Rutgar—a thickset man with a fierce red complexion and a matching plait of hair—waited at the end of the gangplank. His expression was anxious—no doubt he wanted to get a move on before the tide turned and night closed in. While there was an air witch on board—they were something of a necessity when navigating the treacherous seas around these parts—Rutgar was the old-fashioned type who preferred magic only as a last resort. Not that he’d be relying on his skills tonight—not in this storm and not with me on board. He no doubt had orders to get me back to Esan quickly and in one piece, and that meant putting the air witch’s ability to manipulate the weather to full use.

When we reached the ramp, I stopped and turned to Damon. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will.” He looked set to add something else but, in the end, simply bowed and strode away.

“Captain Silva?” Rutgar said. “We need to set sail, otherwise the seas will be against us.”

“From the look of things, they already are.”

“Close to, but we should make it out of the heads before things get too tricky.”

I suspected the chance of escaping tricky seas had well and truly passed us by, but I held my tongue and stepped onto the gangway. After clambering over the gunwale, I moved to the stern of the boat and the small, covered area that lay underneath the vessel’s ornately carved tail.

Oran—the air witch whose job it was to get us safely home—gave me a brief nod but his attention was already on the storm he’d soon be pushing us through. The air crackled with the force of his rising magic.

I sat on the opposite bench, dumped my backpack beside me, and tightly gripped the wooden hold above my head. The ramp was quickly drawn and, as the oarsmen assumed their positions, Oran’s magic surged. Its force was so sharp that my skin crawled. I leaned back in an effort to put a little more distance between us, but it didn’t really help.

The ship rocked from side to side as she eased off the sand ridge. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the rising tide of fear. There was no logical reason for it, especially when we had an air witch on board. Controlling the weather was what they lived for, and Oran had long guided my father’s ship to safety through storms far worse than this.

Once in deeper water, the ship surged forward, cutting easily against the wind and the waves as she headed for the heads and the open water.

I tried to relax, but my stomach felt as wild and stormy as the sea. The full force of the storm hit when we rounded the heads; waves crashed over the ship, washing her decks with their malevolence, drenching oarsmen even as they threatened to sweep away anything not tied down. The wind howled, and the ship pitched and rolled, the motion violent and unsettling.

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