The Dragon's Price (Transference #1)(61)

I nod. I was reliving a battle through my nightmare—just not my own battle.

“Golmarr has your breakfast,” he says, nodding toward the rising sun.

Golmarr and his brothers are quietly talking beside our two horses, which have been joined by two more. The brothers are both a little bit taller and broader than Golmarr, they both have the same glossy, dark hair, but one has a bit of girth around his belly and his shoulders, like a man gets when he has long outgrown boyhood. I watch Golmarr slide the reforged sword from its sheath at his hip, and his brothers’ eyes grow wide. The thinner one takes the sword and runs his hand reverently over the blade.

At my approach, Golmarr turns and looks at me, and a hint of a smile brightens his eyes. “Sorrowlynn.” He strides over, his legs swishing against the grass, and wraps me in an embrace. His hand cradles the back of my head to his shoulder and tangles in my hair. I close my arms around his waist and breathe in the familiar smell of him.

“Good morning,” he whispers, and kisses my forehead. His brothers are staring at us, both with shocked expressions on their faces.

“Evay is going to pummel you, Golmarr,” the thinner brother says.

“I already told you that Evay has no claim on me, Yerengul. She has never said she loves me, and I have never said that I love her,” Golmarr says, putting his arm around my waist and resting his hand on my hip.

“It’s a good thing you know how to fight, Princess Sorrowlynn,” Yerengul says, tossing my staff to me. I catch it with one hand.

“If Evay wants to pick a fight with someone, it is going to be me, not Princess Sorrowlynn,” Golmarr snaps. He turns back to me, and I can see anger gathering in his eyes. “Princess Sorrowlynn, this is my brother Yerengul”—he motions to the thinner brother—“and my brother Jessen.” He motions to the thicker, older brother.

“I am pleased to meet you, Prince Jessen, Prince Yerengul,” I say, and grip the sides of my purple skirt and curtsy.

They both study me in silence, scowling, until Jessen clears his throat. “Welcome to Anthar, Princess,” he says, and elbows Yerengul in the ribs.

“Yes, welcome,” Yerengul repeats. His gaze moves slowly from my loose hair all the way down to my feet and back up. A gleam of mischief shines in his eyes, and he grins. “Nice going, little brother. You slayed the fire dragon and won the heart of the fair princess.”

Golmarr shakes his head. “No, you’ve got that backward, Yeren.” My heart starts hammering in my chest and I look at Golmarr, wondering if he’s going to tell them that I slayed the fire dragon and not him. I shake my head the slightest bit, pleading with my eyes not to tell them the truth. He puts his hand beneath my chin. “I don’t know if I won the heart of the fair princess, but she won mine.” He stares into my eyes, searching them, looking for the answer to what he has said, looking to see if he has, in fact, won my heart.

Yerengul claps his shoulder. “Evay is going to kill you.”

Golmarr grimaces. “Yes, she is.”

“Do you know what Golmarr said the night of the feast, after he danced with you in your mother’s hall?” Yerengul asks me, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Golmarr shakes his head. “Shut up, Yeren,” he growls.

Yerengul laughs. “He said, ‘If I was betrothed to her, I would have no problem taking her to my bed on our wedding night.’?”

Golmarr flinches and looks at me.

I gasp. “You are a scoundrel!”

A slow smile spreads over his face. “What can I say? It’s true. And if anything, it is even truer now.” He quickly presses a kiss to my lips and then darts away before I can retaliate.





I ride in front of Golmarr, with his hands loosely holding my waist. Enzio and Golmarr’s brothers ride behind us so that I, at Golmarr’s request, get an unobstructed view of the glorious Antharian grasslands. We ride in silence over rolling hills, and by the way he keeps fidgeting with my thick leather belt, I can tell something is bothering him. When the sun has crawled a quarter of the way across the sky, he clears his throat. “I need to ask you something, Sorrowlynn,” he says quietly, so only I can hear.

“Then ask.” I turn my head to the side so I can see him. He takes one hand from my hip and runs it through his short hair, and his eyes turn cautious. A touch of apprehension coils in my belly. “What’s wrong?” I whisper, wishing I could reach back and smooth the crease from between his black eyebrows.

“I’ve never asked you…that is, I’ve only assumed, based on the way you kissed me, that you’re not opposed to having me…how do they say it in your land? Court you?”

I turn away from him so he can’t see the warmth that has risen to my cheeks, and a smile dances to my mouth. “No, I’m not opposed,” I say. Releasing the reins with one hand, I lift his hand from my hip and wrap his arm around my waist, weaving my fingers over the top of his. “I’m not opposed at all.”

“Sorrowlynn of Faodara. I am courting Princess Sorrowlynn of Faodara.” He pulls my hair away from my neck and I feel his warm, moist lips against my skin. I shiver at the touch and tilt my head to the side, exposing more skin to be kissed.

“I see that, Golmarr!” Yerengul yells from behind.

Golmarr chuckles and drops my hair. “Maybe if you could find a woman who liked your ugly face, you wouldn’t have to live vicariously through your younger brother,” he yells back, and tightens his arm around my waist.