Page 22 of Claimed By the Dragon King

“No, we are not.” I turn to Aurdyn. “Right?”

Aurdyn narrows his eyes but dips his chin in a subtle acknowledgement.

Moira bursts into a flurry of activity behind her husband, ushering the kids back into their room and closing the door before grabbing a thick quilt from a bed across the way. She holds it out to us, and Aurdyn huffs out a frustrated breath as he snatches it from her hands. “Do you not have any furs?” he grumbles. “Anything besides this pitiful, moth riddled—”

I press a finger to his lips, silencing him abruptly. I give him a pointed look before turning to the Dwarves. “Thank you so much. This will do nicely.” I offer my best friendly grin. “Do you happen to have any tea?”

Moira nods and rushes to the small kitchen area across the way.

Obviously annoyed, a puff of black smoke curls out from Aurdyn’s nostrils as he stalks toward the fireplace. He sets me down in a rickety chair near the hearth and wraps the blanket tight around my form before he turns back to our hosts. “She needs food and drink.”

Orin goes to help his wife, and I sigh in frustration at Aurdyn’s terrible manners.

He stands over me, head tipped up proudly and arms crossed with an imperious look on his face as he watches the two Dwarves practically falling all over themselves to serve us.

“Stop glaring at them,” I whisper sharply. “You’re making them nervous.”

“They should be.” He looks down his nose at me. “If they do not get me what you need, I will—”

“Stop it,” I hiss between my teeth. “Now. We are guests here. Can you at least act like you are friendly?”

“Dragons are not—”

His words cut off at my sharp look of warning. Reluctantly, he uncrosses his arms and purses his lips. “Fine.”

When they return with a plate of food and a glass of water, they hand it to me with shaking hands and then offer him some as well. Aurdyn wrinkles his nose as he stares down at the offering. A few chunks of meat and a small bit of cheese and bread. “Is this all you have?”

Moira’s face falls. “We—”

“It’s the cold season,” Orin interrupts. “Food is hard to come by during this time of year. But what we have is yours, great Dragon.” He holds up the plate to Aurdyn. “Please, accept our humble offering.”

Aurdyn waves a dismissive hand. “I will hunt later. She”—he points at me—“is the one who needs food and drink. I am fine.”

“About that tea…” I look at Moira and she holds out a steaming cup for Aurdyn to take.

She’s trembling so much the cup rattles on the saucer, spilling some of the liquid, but he takes it from her all the same, drinking the entire thing in one large gulp.

While it’s nice to know he cares for my well-being, I hate seeing these Dwarves so terrified in their own home. It’s obvious to see they are struggling and here they are having to share what little they have with us.

Orin offers me Aurdyn’s plate, but I shake my head. “I’m fine. Really. This”—I gesture to my food—“is plenty for me.”

In truth, it’s not. I am ravenous. But I cannot stomach the idea of taking any more from these people than we already are.

Aurdyn scowls as he scans the room, obviously displeased. He turns back to me, his green eyes searching mine in concern. “You need more food. I will hunt for you. Stay here until I return.”

A teasing smile quirks my lips. “And just where exactly would I go if I wanted to leave?”

He narrows his eyes, but I notice the grin that tugs at his mouth. It falls away as soon as he stands and glowers at Orin. “I will return soon.” He steps toward him, towering menacingly over the poor, trembling Dwarf as he points back to me. “She is mine. If you allow any harm to come to her, I will raze this pitiful hovel to the ground.”

“Aurdyn,” I hiss, but he ignores me.

“Do you understand, Dwarf?”

I sure hope that tea kicks in soon.

Shakily, the Dwarf nods.

Aurdyn turns back to the hearth and throws another log into the flames. He opens his mouth, releasing a stream of fire to make it catch, while the Dwarves watch with gaping expression.

---