Page 13 of Dragons' Bride
Quinton. The once prince I don’t seem to have to worry about on that front. I try to push past the thought and focus on Nora’s question. I’ve never had someone like her to talk to before. Back home, the slaves and servants always found something negative to say about coupling, as if its only value in conversation was as a tool to shame the participants for… well, for anything and everything. If a girl enjoyed herself, or screamed in pleasure, or preferred a position, she was a whore who opened her legs for the world. If she didn’t indulge, she was a cold fish. It was as if the only acceptable way to copulate was to tolerate the intrusion without, stars forbid, enjoying it.
Nora is different. Like the princes, she finds nothing about sharing bodies and pleasure to be shameful or wrong. Quite the opposite. Which leads to conversations that I never in a million years imagined having.
“So?” Nora tugs my braid. “Don’t hold out on me now.”
“I don’t know about best – they are different.” I try to put my experience to words and hope they make sense. “Tavias is all power and domination. He takes charge of everything, which is ironically good because I don’t think I’d be able to bring myself to do half the things he does otherwise. And he always makes sure there is a reward at the end. He also, um, he is prone to a spank or two if he doesn’t get his way quickly enough. I know that doesn’t sound arousing –”
“Oh, it does,” Nora assures me. “And Prince Hauck?”
“Creative.” I wince. “He likes toys and keeps coming up with new ways of tormenting me.” The latest endeavor involved the use of a scarf and a couple of sphere shaped things from his cursed box. “And before you ask, Cyril is the most protective. Controlling, but in a different way than Tavias. He’s also always fussing to make certain I’m not hurting, and drinking enough water, and don’t forget to eat. Basically, he is the anti-Quinton.”
Shit. I hadn’t meant to bring Quinton up, and the way I did sounded wrong.
Nora stops too. “Quinton hurts you?”
“No.” My eyes close. “I mean, he does, but not that way. He… he doesn’t want to touch me at all, actually. Or see me. Or even be in the same space with me unless we are doing combat training – and that he’s doing because of a promise to Hauck. The only time he speaks to me is to holler about poor striking form or to make me run sprints across the deck. I don’t understand it. Him. I don’t understand him.”
For once, Nora stays silent. Which isn’t at all like her. I twist around to face her.
She becomes suddenly engrossed with a fraying thread at the hem of her trousers. Bright pink today.
“You know what I did to upset him, don’t you?” I say.
“What?” Her head pops up. “No. It’s more that I don’t think you did anything.”
“Then why are you acting like you know something hurtful and just don’t want to say it?”
She winces. “You know Prince Quinton is the royal assassin, right?”
I frown. Did I know that? I knew he was a lone warrior of some kind, but assassin? That hadn’t exactly come up in conversation.
“He is darkness and shadows,” Nora continues. “There isn’t anyone he actually talks to. Captain Dane had to bring extra guards on this trip just to keep the sailors from absconding once Quinton was on board.”
I certainly hadn’t known that. But I’ve noticed the seamen making signs to ward off bad luck whenever Quinton and I train. I thought they just didn’t want to be in my shoes, but apparently there is more to it. And now that I think about it, Captain Dane is always around to keep order whenever Quinton goes on deck.
Nora blows out a long breath. “What I’m trying to say is that instead of vexing about it, maybe you should just be glad Prince Quinton is keeping his distance. I don’t care how dexterous his scales might be, the less contact you have with him, the better.”
I sort through Nora’s words, then stand to look out the round window. The ocean stretches in all directions as far as I can see, its waves lapping the ship rhythmically.
Kill her.
The first mind words I’d ever heard from Tavias echo through my memory. Petra, another slave at the Agam estate, and I were cleaning the small entry hall in preparation for the dragon princes’ arrival. The princes weren’t supposed to be anywhere near the back and Petra’s tongue was more free than it should have been. Mine wasn’t much better, but it was Petra who Tavias had heard.
Kill her.Tavias had given the order, but it was Quinton who took the girl’s head off without hesitation. Blood spilt on the floor and smelled of copper. Even then, having just seen the prince, I’d known that Petra wasn’t the first to die by his sword.
Nora is right, Quinton is a killer. But is that all he is?
“They are all killers,” I say without turning away from the window. “All the dragon princes have blood on their hands.”
“They are all predators,” Nora corrects me. “And yes, Tavias and Cyril lead whole armies. More have died at their orders than at Quinton’s sword, though most of those were horrid creatures from Mors. But it’s still different. Prince Quinton has blood-magic. Most fae touched with the gift become healers. Quinton uses it to slice his enemies from the inside.”
“That’s just his occupation.”
“Chicken, egg. Who knows.” Nora says.
Maybe someone should know. Maybe I should know.
“No matter how you look at it, he treats you poorly. So why are you defending him?” Nora asks. “Also, stop thinking that his behavior is somehow your fault. You may not have the power to change the prince’s actions, but don’t let him make youfeellike you are at fault for his darkness. That power, you do have.”
