Page 36 of The Dragon King's Assassin

Chapter Seventeen

“Yes, thank you, I'm very happy with her,” the Dragon King said for the fourteenth time.

Or fifteenth, but who's counting?

“Her name means 'moonlight on water.'” he went on.

“And the breeder is here, Your Majesty?” the merchant, a highborn Argaiv, with his membranous wings tucked away beneath a silk cloak, asked.

“He's right there.” Taroc indicated Bracaro and his group, all of them with dogs. “The finest breeder of vanrussas in the city.”

Yes, he'd been laying it on thick, but that only made me like him more. The King felt indebted, and he was a man who paid his debts. Brac and his team were already surrounded by a crowd of potential buyers, but when he noticed the King waving toward him yet again, he paused in his discussion, turned toward Taroc, and bowed deeply, acknowledging that they were even.

Taroc grinned and nodded.

Then a Shanba lord said, “I'm more interested in your human companion.”

I met the man's stare but saw no threat, so I dismissed him and continued scanning the massive hall where the post-rite celebration was being held. Although the rite was reserved for Dragons, the party afterward was open to all. And that meant hundreds of people from all the races of Racul—and even some guests from outside the kingdom—were milling about His Majesty. I couldn't waste a moment on whatever insult this man was about to give me. Fuck him, Taroc could deal with his bullshit.

The Shanba cocked his head, the gilding on his impressive rack of antlers catching the light and flashing in my peripheral vision as if fighting to regain my attention. “I've heard that he's an assassin.”

“You've heard true,” Taroc said, absently petting Ren.

“How thrilling. And he's handsome as well. For a human.”

Ugh, why did they always feel the need to add that caveat? Every time someone from another race complimented me, they added, for a human on the end. As if there were a separate rating scale for us because it wouldn't be fair to compare us directly with an immortal. I resisted the urge to tell him to go fuck himself and continued to scan the room.

“You know,” the Shanba's tone turned musing, “I'm still awaiting payment for the wine you ordered, Your Majesty.”

I froze.

“And?” Taroc's voice sharpened.

“Lend me your assassin for three days, and I'll consider it paid in full.”

Slowly, I turned to look at the Shanba. His wide, brown eyes slid over me and the thin nostrils in his flat nose widened on a deep inhale. A quick lick of his lips concluded the show, making it obvious that he didn't want me for my professional talents.

The King chose to ignore those signs. “You expect me to loan you my assassin to kill someone for you?”

“Oh, great Tareth, no!” the man declared. “I would never expect you to condone criminal activity, Sire. I merely want to fuck him. I expect he knows some dirty little bedroom tricks, being such a naughty man.”

The other men in the group made sounds of amusement. All but His Majesty.

“You want to fuck my assassin, Lord Crushei?” now, the King's voice was frigid and sharp.

Lord Crushei should have taken the warning. Ren certainly did; she stood up and started to growl at the Shanba.

“He's not your lover, is he?” Lord Crushei asked. “I can't imagine that you would ever bed a human.”

“I bed whoever the fuck I want.” Taroc bared his teeth.

“Oh, my,” Lord Crushei drawled. “He is your lover. How fascinating. I apologize, Your Majesty. I meant no disrespect. He gave me a look that I interpreted as interest.”

Taroc swung his head toward me. I shook my head, and that was all that he needed. His focus went back to the Shanba.

“He is guarding me,” the King said. “I'm certain he did give you a long look, but it was not one of interest, not sexual at least. He was determining if you were a threat to my safety, but I think it's the other way around.”

“Excuse me, Your Majesty?”

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