“I don’t know much, but the book this came from was extremely well guarded - under lock, key and magics. I couldn’t even take it out of the archives. It’s actually just a history book…talking about the Rift.”
Rhey turned to his friend. The Rift? No one talked of it. They learned, as dragonlings, that humans, Elves, Fae and other races blessed by Aether lived together in peace, a thousand years ago. Then, all of a sudden, the Dragons had separated themselves from them. The end. No one was allowed to ask questions; the teachers didn’t even know the answers.
“Before the Rift, when we all partied under the same roof, there apparently were what that book called Dragon Riders. Most were Elves, some were Fae, and occasionally, humans too. It says that Riders were born - not made - and never showed any skill until they’d bonded with one of us. It says they bore marks - runes - just like our pretty little friend’s.”
His brain was going to explode. Dragon Riders? What did that even mean?
“We’re wild creatures - not horses.”
“Indeed. And we’re wild creatures that are going mad, feral. Riders were mortals with the ability to calm us. According to that book - I think it was written right after the Rift - those who disliked our race, or figured that we would be weakened without our riders, ended up murdering the potential riders before they’d bonded, while they were still vulnerable. The King at the time, Demelza’s grandfather, I think, went on a rampage, killing everyone who’d done this, and made us leave. He wasn’t wrong, I’m sure. Honestly? I don’t recall much. I’ve only remembered this bit because, well, it was a secret, and secrets are valuable.”
Rhey nodded. That explained the Elders’ reactions; they’d wanted their secret to stay hidden, and getting rid of Xandrie might have seemed like the easiest way to do so.
“Are you going to tell her?”
Vincent tilted his head.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. What would be the point? Anything I know would just invite more questions. I say, let her discover what she’s capable of herself.” Then, clapping his hands, Vincent yelled above the sounds of weapons clashing, “Alright, enough you two! You’re going to hate your muscles on the morrow. Go take a warm bath and relax.”
Xandrie’s eyes shone when she turned to Vincent, but then, her eyes landed on him, and she froze, averted her gaze, and blushed.
Rhey smiled in response. He was apparently not the only one affected…then he remembered they were only fighting because Demelza wanted to train for the upcoming tournament - the one where his wife would be chosen for him.
It was his fault, really. If he had chosen someone to saddle himself with over the last ten years since he’d taken the throne, the elders would have left it alone, but he hadn’t.
Perhaps it was her fault, for having been fifteen at most, a decade back, and for not having entered his Kingdom until now.
Dragons weren’t known to be hesitant, particularly not when it came to their treasures. They saw something they wanted, and they took it. The moment he’d met her, his beast decided she was theirs to have, and not being able to act on the dragon’s demand burned his very soul.
Something was changing, he wasn’t sure how or why, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Xandrie consumed his thoughts the way gold had, not even a month ago. Now, instead of bathing in his pool of coins, instead of counting his gold when he was in his den, he laid on his bed and thought of the woman’s eyes, or such things.
Alright. Sometimes, maybe he thought of her ass, too. She had a very, very fine one.
“You fight well,” he said - the first words he’d addressed to her in three weeks and five days. He’d seen her eleven times, since - she’d seen him only once: now.
She rolled her eyes.
“Elza kicked my ass, and I know it. Thank you, though.”
Rhey stared at her until she relented and lifted her eyes to him.
“I do not offer flattery, woman. I am king; other people flatter me.” She might have rolled her eyes if he didn’t say it with a self-depreciative smile. “I said you fight well. Accept it.”
Another blush. The damn woman had to stop or he’d give another meaning to Dragon Rider.
“Thanks.”
He smiled a little, and her mouth popped open, which made the length between his legs stand to attention.
Down, you. That wasn’t an invitation to fill those pretty lips.
The dragon inside him protested, thinking that this reasoning was idiotic. Damn horny beast.
“You may want to try another weapon; it didn’t suit you. Also, spread your legs a little wider to gain more balance.”
Yes, spread your legs…
He told the dragon to shut it, and sighed.
“Giving out free advice, Rhey?” Demelza asked, her amused smirk making him believe she knew exactly what his mind thought of their little human rider. “That’s not like you.”
It wasn’t. He excelled in fighting because he knew everyone’s weakness. Alerting them of their errors wasn’t his usual policy.
“Perhaps you’ve already perfected your style,” he lied.
There was plenty of ways Elza could improve, but as much as he liked her, despite the fact that they were the best of friends, he wouldn’t wish to see her growing stronger. It went against the principles of most Kings; he’d empower a potential enemy.
Demelza’s family had ruled before his, and they would rule again, if he ever failed. A while ago, he hadn’t believed it mattered. Since that Council meeting, where a bunch of idiots had almost sent an innocent girl to the dungeon because of their fears or their agendas, he understood what it meant to be King. His Kingdom’s very soul rested on his shoulders, and he didn’t want to see it changing hands.
So regardless of any history, or affection, everyone who had a claim to his crown was a potential enemy. Everyone.
Except the human born woman standing in front of him. This one, he and his dragon were in agreement about. She was safe. She was theirs.
At the back of his head, he reminded himself of the Claiming - and thoroughly ignored his own warning. It mattered not. They could have her, just the once, before his fate was sealed, couldn’t they?
Yes, the beast told him, baring his teeth in a resemblance of a smile. Just once.
Rhey sighed, wondering why his own damn dragon thought he was foolish enough to not hear him lie.
Wild
The Claiming was finally upon them and the palace was abuzz with energy. Xandrie allowed Demelza’s maidservant, Galdia, to dress her hair, while she watched the women of Farden stream across the drawbridge and into the arena, their cutlasses, broadswords, rapiers, and flail maces borne proudly on their shoulders. It was going to be a blood bath. She could only pray her dear friend was ready to slice and dice her way through the competition.
Galdia, a heavily pregnant maid, rattled on as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “We shall call the child Galden after me, if he’s a boy, and Arin after my mate, if she’s a girl.”