Page 48 of Wings of Frost and Fury
The weight of what I’m doing, the immense responsibility of it, settles against my soul like the press of a heavy hand. I desperately want a drink to lighten the mental burden, but I can’t risk any mistakes. Everything must be done perfectly and precisely. I need all my wits, all my energy, all the undimmed focus of my mind.
“I’m going to begin marking the confluent casting circles and the diagrams on the floor,” I tell Ashvelon. “Stand guard, and don’t let anyone disturb me, whatever you do. You must not interrupt me either, unless I call for you. I’ll ask you to light the candles when it’s time, and then I’ll need you to light a censer ofherbs in the middle of the central casting circle. Other than that, don’t interfere.”
“Not even if I hear you scream,” he says soberly. “As you said.”
“As I said.”
Ashvelon prowls to the entrance and spreads out his wings, while I start drawing the circles on the floor of the cave, right in front of the spell we engraved on the wall. The stone floor is stained in places between the wall and the nest.
“What is this stain on the floor?” I ask. “If it’s blood from an animal, it could influence the spell.”
His wings rustle, and he shifts uncomfortably. “My frost-fire marked that area. I was cleaning up my own seed, spilled during my experiences with alethia.”
“Oh. That shouldn’t be an issue, then. If anything, the traces of your cum will enhance the reproductive section of the spell.”
Ashvelon makes an odd noise in his throat, but he doesn’t comment any further, and I return to the task of marking the circles.
When I’m nearly finished, I hear wingbeats, then Ashvelon’s voice saying, “Prince Varex,” in a tone of polite warning.
From my kneeling position on the floor, I can’t see the Prince, thanks to the barrier of Ashvelon’s spread wings. But I can hear the urgency in his voice. “I must see the sorceress.”
“With respect, my Prince, Thelise cannot have visitors at the moment,” Ashvelon replies. “She is working on the spell, and it requires concentration and precision.”
“But this is important. Please, Ashvelon.”
“I apologize, but I am under strict orders to—”
“Orders?” Varex gives a raw chuckle. “I am your prince. You take orders from me and from Kyreagan.”
“Of course, but I must obey her as well.”
“Ah yes. I noticed you answer to ‘pet’ now.”
“That is none of your business,” Ashvelon growls.
“Perhaps not.” Varex’s tone softens. “And I will not mention it again, if you will only let me speak to her, just for a moment. I would not insist unless it were of vital importance.”
But Ashvelon holds his ground. “Tell me the message, and I will give it to her.”
“You cannot tell Kyreagan what I’m about to request.”
“I understand. I have my own secrets.”
“Ask Thelise not to change my captive.” Varex’s tone is pleading, desperate. “The red-headed dancer, Jessiva.”
Startled, I glance in Ashvelon’s direction. Surprise thrums through his tone. “You do not wish for her to be a female dragon?”
“I prefer her as she is,” Varex says quietly. “Small and human, with beautiful soft flesh.”
Ashvelon rumbles, a sound of commiseration and understanding. “But you will not be able to breed her.”
“I know. I am willing to relinquish the possibility of offspring, if only I can keep her with me, just as she is.”
I rock back on my heels, the chalk hanging idle between my fingers as I wait to hear Ashvelon’s response.
“I’m not sure if what you ask is even possible, but I will mention it to Thelise,” he says.
Clever dragon. He didn’t lie, exactly, but he also didn’t give away any part of my plan. Granted, I haven’t confided all the details to him, but he suspects the gist of it.
