Page 17 of Blood of Wolves

Náli bit his lip against a sudden smile; schooled his features, and shifted his fingers to scratch beneath the drake’s jaw. “It’s fine. The prince nearly shit himself,” he lied. No way was he confessing to the shriek he’d let out when Percy dropped that dead deer in front of him.

Mattias huffed in quiet amusement. “No, he didn’t.”

Náli feigned affront, andthiswas how things were supposed to be. Quiet smiles, and Mattias indulging the side of his rank that was all for show and humorous purposes. “Are you calling me a liar?” he asked, arching a single brow, nose lifted in the air. An old game, one that had begun, years and years ago, when Náli had impersonated his mother for the first time, and Mattias had laughed until he snorted milk out of his nose. It was a foolproof routine.

But now, Mattias only smiled – a quiet, soft smile that melted up into his eyes until they were almost too much to look at, until Náli’s chest ached. “Never,” he said, sincerely, and Náli had to let his gaze drop for fear that it would reveal too much.

The drake cracked one vivid blue open and looked up at him, trilling a small, questioning noise in his throat.

Náli closed his eyelid with a careful fingertip. “Stupid dragon,” he grumbled.

The rasp of the whetstone started up again, and Náli felt some of the tension in his belly loosen. It was better if Mattias didn’t look at him.

“That one picked you,” Mattias said, tone conversational on the surface…but Náli could detect the note of true, awed inquiry underneath. “Lord Oliver is the Drake, but this one’s yours.”

His insides twisted in the same, unpleasant way they had on the mountain pass, when Oliver had smiled at him with genuine softness, and not his usual snark, and told him he ought to name this creature. “It isn’tmine.” He knew he sounded petulant, but was too tired to help it at the moment.

A darted glance proved that Mattias lifted his head and glanced across the snowy hills, to where the young drake’s parents stood outside of a longhouse with Oliver, Erik, and the rest of the lords. Those that had survived. “Why is he over here with you, then?” When he turned back, his eyes twinkled, faintly.

Náli made a face. “Because he’s stupid.”

Mattias breathed another of his quiet laughs, and Náli fought the heat that rose in his cheeks in helpless response. He couldn’t blame it on the tea – on the ground at his feet – nor on the dragon, whose cold body was only making his shivers worse.

Mattias noticed. “My lord,” he said, growing serious again. “I really think–”

“No.”

Mattias sighed, and looked more than a little frustrated. “I’m worried.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be. I’m–”

“You’re notfine, don’t sayfine,” Mattias gritted out through his teeth, and Náli was shocked into silence. Mattias wasangry, now, and he was never that. Thoughtful, sometimes stern, even morose, at times, and Náli never wanted to think too closely about why. But now, the bristling aggression he usually reserved for enemies was – albeit in a quieter form – directed at Náli. “What did you do?” he didn’t just ask, but demanded. “Up there in the mountains – what did you do that makes you look half-dead?”

Náli jerked so badly that the drake opened his eyes, lifted his head, and searched the area around them for a threat. He balled his now-empty hands to fists in his lap, drew himself upright, and said, teeth bared in what definitely was not a smile, “Iamhalf-dead, Captain. That’s how my powerworks.”

Mattias scowled at the sound of his rank – Náli never used it, not unless they were in front of his mother and he wanted to avoid another lecture on blending servitude with friendship. “No, you aren’t,” he argued, right away. “You looked tired after Silfr Hall, I’ll grant you. But not like this – never like this, not since–”

“Mention thenight of the horsesagain and I’ll sic my dragon on you,” Náli hissed.

Said dragon nudged his shoulder and hummed a distressed sound. Náli patted his nose absently, gaze fixed on Mattias’s face, as it hardened yet another fraction, mouth pressed to a hard, flat line. With the sides of his head shaved, and his chin tucked, ready for battle, Náli had some idea what one of his enemies must see when they faced down the captain of his guard. It left him shivering – somewhat pleasantly, beneath his mounting anger.

“This” – Mattias gestured at him with the whetstone – “isn’t from walking with the dead. This is something else – something worse.What did you do, Náli?”

Náli’s mounting anger gave way to shock, and he found himself blinking stupidly at Mattias, just like Mattias blinked stupidly back at him. The Guard didn’t use his given name as a form of address – if they did, it was always “Lord Náli.” Never Náli by itself. Never so familiar…though he had longed for it, from Mattias especially. Ever-increasing teenage fantasies that had grown bolder and filthier over time.Náli, whispered against his throat, followed by the damp press of lips, the sharp kiss of teeth, while large, sword-callused hands mapped his body…

“I,” Mattias started, stricken. “I didn’t–”

The drake inhaled loudly, and swiveled his head around. Náli had to duck to keep their skulls from cracking together.

“Is he all right?” Klemens asked behind him, flatly cautious. Náli could envision his expression; alarm looked like boredom on his impassive face.

Náli stroked the drake’s neck, and he subsided with a little snort that was much less intimidating than his father’s. “Yes. He won’t hurt you.”

Klemens strode into view, moving around Náli’s far side so he could deposit a fresh armload of split wood beside the fire. When he straightened, he looked first to Mattias, and then to Náli, black braid rustling against the back of his tunic, one brow cocked in a rare show of curiosity. Náli had no idea what his own face was doing – he was trying to pull his mother mask back into place with something like desperation – but Mattias had gone pink up to the tips of his ears, and stared guiltily into the fire.

Klemens turned back, and Náli was already scrambling for an excuse for the strange tension between them, but the Guard said, “Does it have a name? Your beast?” He nodded toward the drake.

Náli exhaled, relieved, and saw Klemens lift his other brow. There was no fooling that man, but, usually, he allowed you the grace of denial. “No. He…”

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