Page 47 of Heart Cradle
Maeve slowed, eyeing the top of the tower warily. “Wait, she’s nearby?”
Eiran looked over his shoulder. “Always.”
A shiver crept down her spine. “So, do you ride her into battle? Or is this more of a ‘brush each other’s hair and whisper secrets at a sleep-over’ sort of bond?”
He laughed, slow and deep. “Oh, love. She’s my blade, my shield and my shadow in the sky. There have been armies that have surrendered at the sight of her wings.”
Maeve arched a brow. “Always so dramatic.”
“She’s the largest living dragon in the Fae Lands,” he said. “And the rarest. She’s a Nyxshade, they don’t hatch anymore, they haven’t in centuries.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “So she’s a legend.”
“To some, yes. A nightmare to others. She’s old blood and raw magic, when she flies, reality gets nervous.”
Maeve muttered something under her breath about dramatics, goosebumps prickling her arms all the same as they reached the top of the stairs.
“She speaks only to me.” He said.
“And everyone else gets… snarled at?”
“Growled. Snorted. Occasionally… electrified.”
Eiran pushed open a carved wooden door, and golden firelight spilled out. Inside was warmth, thick rugs, a hearth glowing with embers and a curved balcony offering a view of the moonlit mountains.
Maeve stepped in warily. “Electrified?!”
Eiran shrugged out of his top leathers and hung it on a hook. He stood there shirtless. “Her tail carries storm magic but she uses it sparingly.”
“Oh, great.” Maeve said, greedily taking in his form.
“She’ll like you,” he said, now shrugging on a tunic soft and loose.
Maeve crossed her arms. “Because I’m special or because you told her she has to?”
Eiran stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Because I am yours, love.”
Her breath caught. He didn’t say it with arrogance, just simple truth, with the same certainty of stars existing.
She coughed. “So, what else can she do?”
“She has abilities that are great. They can all talk through thoughts.”
“Telepathy…great. And let me guess, Xelaini’s vain.”
Eiran grinned. “Incredibly, compliment the tail.”
“Why?”
“She preens when it’s admired.”
“Unbelievable. The deadly flying monster is actually hopelessly vain?”
“She’s an empress,” Eiran said, utterly serious. “And she knows it.”
Maeve wandered through to the balcony, resting her hands on the cool stone rail. Stars glittered above, scattered across a velvet sky. Everything about this world was too much, too big and too magical. So Eiran, but strangely, it didn’t feel overwhelming.
She glanced back. “So if she’s always nearby… is she watching us right now?”
