Page 4 of Dreams and Dragon Wings
Without explaining anything at all, he clamped his hand over my mouth, shushing me.
“Be quiet,” he whispered against my ear, making my heart race all the more. “You must stay hidden until I’m gone. I’ll lead them away. Don’t worry; you’ll be safe.”
Safe? Why was I unsafe now?
Why would the King and Queen of Drakara meanmeharm?
When he pulled his hand free, I asked, “But when will I see you again?”
“Never,” he said. Abrupt. Final. “You’ll never see me again, Miss Weaver.”
A pang of disappointment lanced through me.Silly. I was being silly. I had only just met him. What did it matter if I never saw him again?
But for some reason, I so desperately wanted to see him again.
And the realization that I never would made me… sad.
The voices called again, and Benevolence twitched away from me. “I must go,” he declared. Yet still he lingered, his eyes scouring my face as if looking for something.
Drawing in a deep breath, he shook his head and turned away. “Goodbye.”
“Wait!” I blurted out, louder than I intended.
He froze, and I turned toward the rosebush behind me. Carefully, I plucked the most perfect bloom I could find—a pink rose just beginning to open, its petals still curled protectively around its heart. But I wasn’t careful enough.
I winced as one of the thorns pricked me, drawing blood.
“Here,” I whispered, ignoring the throb of pain pulsing through my finger. “For your birthday.” Extending the rose toward him, I shyly added, “And so you never forget me.”
Goodness, what had come over me?
Benevolence looked down at the rose, then back at me. His eyebrows drew together. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing—” I tried to say, but before I could, he captured my hand within the clasp of his and drew my fingers close to his face. I trembled, thinking he was about to kiss my knuckles as if I were a lady.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he exhaled against my wounded finger—a breath that brought with it a strange heat, like the warmth of the sun. Mesmerized, I watched as the skin around the small wound knitted itself back together in the very next moment.
With his breath alone, he had healed me.
“How wonderful you are,” I gasped, unable to stop myself.
Despite his previous urgency, he was no longer in such a great hurry that he couldn’t spare a moment to smile at me again.
I pressed the rose into his palm. “Do not forget your present, Your Highness.”
“But I have nothing to give you in return.”
“Just meeting you was gift enough,” I insisted, marveling again at my boldness. But perhaps it was easy to be bold when there was no danger of seeing the other person again.
The prince hesitated, looking suddenly lost as he gazed into my eyes. Then he bowed, his hand once more taking hold of mine—but this time, hedidpress a courtly kiss to the back of it.
Only the clasp of his fingers around mine kept me from floating away.
“Write to me,” he whispered against my knuckles. Not a request, but a command.
“Write to you?” I hardly dared to hope that the Crown Prince of Drakara truly wished to exchange letters with me—a mere tailor’s daughter. “But how?”
