Page 34 of The Wrath of Ashes
“Royal sapphire.” Rath grinned. “That is why I will have the throne. It’s very telling of my gifts and personality.”
Asha whined as Rath pulled away and stood.
“Now go spend time with Jeron and Slath. I have invitations to send, a meal to plan, and a tailor to be arranged for you. I also need to embroider your jacket.” Rath grinned, eager to have his magic on Asha.
Asha’s cheeks pinkened, the slight opalescent sheen of his scales dusting the corners of his cheeks like frost. He was too beautiful for words, and Asha would be miserable, waiting for him to be ready for him.
Damn that oath.
Chapter Fourteen
Asha
Standing and walking for the first time made his body wobble and crouch awkwardly. No two steps were the same, like new muscles and bones had twisted under his skin, but at the same time, each step brought him new confidence he’d not had before.
Riding Heckle the day before had made his body ache as he rode the wyvern. All the ways his body wanted to move then made sudden sense, as if his new posture would have made the sky—as the thought broke through his musings, his wings shuddered, instinctively pawing at the air as he tried to calm them into laying flat once more. Rath’s were kept neatly tucked, his tail too, so Asha didn’t understand why his were out…
“Don’t understand why it had to be at the ass crack of dawn! I’m sure my brother and Asha were very well-acquainted last night, but—Eternal fire!” Slath pushed through the doors with Jeron prodding his back.
Asha jumped and grabbed at the undergarments he’d been hastily fitted into the night before. “I’m not dressed!”
“Don’t see how you could be, shit.” Slath forged his way in, fishing for a blanket to throw over Asha’s shoulders.
“Fire opal. Spectacular. I could have guessed with hair as golden spun as yours. A fine line between blond and fire.” Rath patted his shoulders and guided him toward the doors. “Let’s get you to my quarters, where I can nab some clothing for you.”
“Rath said you were a water opal…” Asha stumbled along as he followed. Slath’s horns were two small things, arched back and ridged, understated among his black hair. They did have a pearlescent sheen to them, reflecting a blue like nacre.
“He is too kind. Some call what I am a water opal.” Rath shrugged. “The rest of the world calls me a common pearl.”
“There is no common for a pearl.”
“It’s why I have my name, Slathir. We’re all named for our colors. As Mezerath embodies vengeance with his blue, I am a subtle and understated color made by sedentary change. I am droll, in other words.”
“That’s unfair to yourself. I adore pearls. The nacre glistens softly. It’s not a flashy stone—but it holds its worth.” Asha offered a hopeful smile, but Slath had already put himself in a foul mood.
“Never you mind. Let’s get you some clothing. I’m absolutely livid with Pryd. You weren’t ready for that much moonlight.” Slath marched him through the castle and to his much smaller wing, pushing him into a rather gaudily decorated changing room. Slath wore understated and paint-stained clothing, but every surface of his quarters was brightly painted, covered in beautiful murals and accented with thrilling touches.
Asha tightened the blanket over his shoulders and sat when Slath gestured him to sit and wait.
With barely any thought, he forged his way into a closet and threw a few items out just as Jeron caught up with them, sputtering as trousers and jackets hit him in the face. Slath grumbled as he held up one jacket, then another, before glancing at Asha. “Pull your wings and tail in.”
“How, precisely, am I to do that?” Asha glared at the floor, his tail twitching uncoordinatedly.
“You know… Just…” Slath rolled his shoulders and gestured, but the meaning behind it escaped Asha. While making another gesture almost identical to the first, Slath had an epiphany, if the dawning look on his face was to be believed. “Oh…”
Asha couldn’t even move them correctly. He tried lifting a wing, and it jerked awkwardly, the muscles in it surprisingly welldeveloped for a limb that had never moved before. “Don’t even know how to move them.”
“I mean… We could teach you how to fly like I learned…” Slath frowned. “I’d be no better than Pryd just chucking you off the promontory…” Pryd rubbed his chin, but Jeron sighed heavily and marched up.
Asha turned, glancing at his attendant as he huffed. “Jeron? Do you have any idea?”
“Well. They taught us how to deal with an inebriated dragon.” Jeron made a gesture as if requesting permission to touch, and Asha dropped his blanket a little while Jeron prodded at his tender back. “Feel these muscles here?”
Asha flexed and leaned from side to side before nodding. “Yes, they’re—” A shout broke free of his lips as Jeron ran a thumb down his spine, pushing into a point just above his wing bases that made every muscle on them shudder. “Fuck!”
It was as if he’d been punched in the gut. Asha bent forward, panting as his back made some convoluted and painful ripple of muscles.
He’d dislocated a shoulder before, and the sudden sensation of righting the bone back into its socket had an all-too-familiar feel. The sensation of his wings bunching up coincided with that sudden alleviation of pain at the end. “Baltheir’s balls!”
