Page 33 of Daghel

“You were keeping her warm all right, but the ice and sleet soaked her through so that the moment she came down from your toasty little romp,” she adds scathingly, “her body temperature plunged. Now she is struggling to regulate her body’s core temperature, so I suggest, if you truly wish to be useful, let me take over drying her while you go get Gwen. From what I gather, she was assigned to this side of the palace, so I imagine that you have a better idea of where her quarters are than I do.”

Daghel grunts reluctantly in agreement, but he carefully releases me and stands when Linahna begins to rub the fur over me. It is clear that he does not wish to leave, but is willing to at least entrust me to her care. It makes me wonder again at how deep their relationship is, but I’m distracted when his dark gaze fastens on me intently.

“I will return quickly,” he assures me in a quiet voice, and I nod in acknowledgment.

Or at least I think I do. My head is feeling so woolly that I’m not entirely sure if it’s moving or if I’m holding it still. I squint at the female briskly rubbing me in Daghel’s absence. I squint at her, and I squint at the door where Daghel just stood a moment ago and I realize he has gone and actually left me with her.

“Daghel must really like you,” I observe aloud, and her lips twitch in response.

“You believe so?” she murmurs, and I nod, this time moving my head more vigorously to be certain that I feel it. I ignore the fact that she chuckles in response. It doesn’t matter, so long as I’m getting my point across.

What was my point again? Oh yes.

“You do realize that all of this is pointless,” I say.

Her eyebrows rise in response, but her rubbing slows a little to gentle pats as she peers at me, meeting my eyes. “Why do you say that, Anya?”

Oh, that must have pricked a nerve. I do feel sympathy for her. She is a lovely female constrained by tradition and expectations and in the midst of all of that fighting for her inheritance. It seems no matter where one is in Helfallow, females must deal with much of the same bullshit. Still, sympathy only goes so far, and she needs to know that she now has zero chance with my gathol.

“He’s mine,” I say bluntly, my mouth completely bypassing the entire speech my brain was hastily putting together in its rambling fashion. “Drisk is mine. They are my gathol.”

Her lips twitch, and I promptly frown in response. Why is she laughing?

“So they are,” she observes, and Drisk cackles in a more subdued series of clicks as he nuzzles my cheek.

I give his muzzle a fond, if clumsy, pat and beam happily. Of course Drisk loves me. Despite being a wyvern, and possessing an appearance that makes one wonder if he is preparing to devour them or not, he makes his emotions readily available and visible for anyone who knows how to look for them.

“I just wanted you to know so that you are aware that, no matter what happens or how anything changes, you will never have a chance with them. It is only fair to say so, female to female. I will never give them up.”

“Is that what you imagine I want?” She chuckles. “I see that Daghel did not explain it well… and Drisk, well, he would not know the situation clearly.”

I frown at her, a little befuddled. “Situation?”

Linahna nods. “Being a princess can be tedious at best and often made it difficult to find many truly loyal and honest friends. Daghel is such a friend, and we have been friends since we were pups. Because of this—and because I knew that I could trust him with anything—I had him pretend to be my lover when we were younger and I was still vulnerable to many of the orcswho were still much larger than me.” She gives me a wry smile. “The females of the royal familial line have a distinguished size, but we are slow to grow into it.”

“He pretended to be your lover,” I echo, my mind shamelessly stuck on that one tidbit of information. “Wasn’t that difficult?”

She shakes her head. “Not at all. We were never romantically interested in each other. I was never interested in any male, to be honest.” I blink at her in confusion, and she laughs and begins to rub me briskly with the fur once more. “While I would not mind having a male to suit my purposes, it would only be to pleasure and breed my mate.” She pauses and gives me a meaningful look. “My female mate.”

Oh.Oh!“Daghel was your beard!” I exclaim as the pieces fall together despite my mental fuzziness.

Linahna chuckles and gives me a curious look. “That is an interesting expression—one we do not have, but I believe I can defer your meaning well enough. But yes. He provided for me, and every so often I helped him with some necessary release when he required it… manually,” she adds with a grimace. “No offense, but there is no way I would have allowed him to mount me. It was far safer to mount him in order to help him find the release he needed. I would like to think that it also prepared him for Drisk when he arrived.”

“I see,” I murmur in fascination. They gave each other a hand then and, by doing so, cemented a deep friendship. That is something I can comprehend even in my current state. What’s a little pegging between unattached friends?

She pauses and gives me a worried look. “You aren’t offended, are you? I know that humans can be particular about some things but?—”

“No, of course not,” I interrupt her with a laugh. “Just as long as we both understand each other when I say that whateverDaghel needs from here on out, I can more than give him,” I assure her, drawing a pleased chuckle from the princess.

But her words do give me an idea. A fabulous idea of how I can utilize my special talents in a way that is certain to please him and win his heart entirely. He likes pain and clearly… other things… as much as I do. It will make the perfect gift for my gathol!

She squeezes my arm companionably, but I immediately grab her hand and beam at her earnestly. “CanItrust you with anything?”

“Of course,” she soothes, and I wonder just how crazy I must have looked in my feverish state when I asked for her to respond that way.

Something to worry about later.

“Good, because I have a request.” I pause and glower at Drisk until he turns his head away from us with an indignant huff before motioning her closer. Her eyebrows rise but she leans in, curious. “It’s a very special request,” I whisper. “I have a gift in mind.… a very special gift for my gathol for Gehl.”

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