The Dragon's Price (Transference #1)(66)
“Can you send Nayadi to my room?” Golmarr asks.
Marrkul looks at me and nods. “Of course, but son, you have got to be careful. If we do anything that so much as hints at impropriety concerning Princess Sorrowlynn, we risk starting a war between our two kingdoms. We need to treat this situation with as much formality as possible.”
“I already know that, Father. I have been as careful as possible, under the circumstances.”
“Now go get her settled. I will send Nayadi to you.”
King Marrkul’s house is made all of golden wood—the floors, the walls, and even the ceiling. Bright, colorful rugs and wall tapestries add color to the wood, and it smells like beef, onions, and potatoes inside.
Golmarr strides through the house and carries me up a wooden staircase. With his toe, he pushes a door open and walks me to a bed, carefully laying me down on top of it. Taking my feet in his lap, he removes my red shoes and sets them down beside the bed. Next, he unstraps my belt and places it on the bedside table. He takes my staff from me and leans it in a corner of the room, and then pulls the bedcovers back and helps me under them. I press my face against the goose-down pillow and inhale. It smells like Golmarr.
The room is clean and organized, with a window to my left, framed by two bookshelves. One wooden bookshelf holds volume after volume of leather-bound books—all about either fighting or dragons. The other bookshelf holds row after row of weapons; knives, daggers, a short sword, arrow tips, throwing stars. “Is this your room?” I ask, turning on my side and pulling the covers up over my shoulder.
Mischief fills Golmarr’s eyes and he nods. “Looks like I got you into my bed before we are married.” Kneeling, he brushes the hair from the side of my face.
“What did your father mean about impropriety starting a war with Faodara?”
One of Golmarr’s black eyebrows lifts ever so slightly. “Don’t you know?”
My cheeks warm as I say, “I have my suspicions.” I look at his lips, and my heart starts pounding.
Golmarr grins and puts his hand over my flushed cheek. “My father meant that if I bed the virgin princess of Faodara before we are wed, I will most likely start a war.” He shrugs. “But I already knew that. Do you want me to bring up some dinner?” My stomach rumbles at the thought of food, and Golmarr laughs. “I take that as a yes. Do you need anything else?”
“I need to get warm.” I burrow deeper under the covers and shiver. Worry tightens the corners of Golmarr’s eyes. He climbs onto the bed, on top of the covers, and presses the front of his body against the back of mine, wrapping an arm around me. Pressing his nose against my neck, he exhales warm breath on my skin. “I’m worried about you,” he whispers.
The bedroom door opens, and Nayadi, King Marrkul’s witch, shuffles inside. I jump and wait for Golmarr to spring away from me so we are not caught in bed together, but all he does is tighten his hold around my waist. Nayadi walks to the side of the bed and peers down at me with her foggy eyes. A trickle of fear sends goose bumps up the back of my neck.
“It is about time you made it home,” she says, her blind eyes surveying Golmarr. They shift to me, and she runs her hands through the air in front of me, like she is combing her fingers through hair. She pulls a handful of air toward her face and leans into it, breathing deeply. Her eyes slip shut for a moment, and the sides of her mouth slowly pull into a wide, toothless smile. With a growl, she opens her eyes and grasps my cheeks in her bony fingers, pinching them so hard that I yelp and pull away, but she doesn’t let go. Golmarr’s arm leaves my waist, and he grabs Nayadi’s wrist, shoving her hand from my face.
“What are you doing?” he asks, climbing over the top of me without letting go of the old crone. Nayadi pulls her lips away from her gums, and for a moment it looks like she is snarling…but then she smiles, and I wonder if I imagined it.
“She killed the dragon,” Nayadi says. “Not you.”
Golmarr drops her wrist and steps between me and the witch. “Why would you say that?”
“She’s marked with his magic for anyone with seeing eyes to behold. He left his golden aura around her.” She runs her hand through the air in front of me again, but Golmarr grabs her wrist. And then her words register. She called the dragon he, not it.
“You knew him,” I whisper and blink, and when I open my eyes again, the discoloration leaves Nayadi’s eyes, and I see her how she once was: long, dark brown hair braided down her back, smooth pale skin, blue eyes, two curved swords held in either hand. Unbidden, a memory of this woman overtakes my thoughts, and I know I am witnessing something Melchior the wizard passed on to me.
When she walks into my tower, the first thing I notice is her face. She is barely older than a child. Her eyes are such a pale shade of blue that I cannot help but stare into them for a moment. They are framed by black lashes, and her dark, braided hair makes the pale color even more remarkable. At her waist she carries the black stone blade of her people. Her twin swords are strapped to her back, as I requested, and I can tell by the way she keeps tightening her shoulders, she is forcing herself not to draw them.
Piles of gold are behind me, the treasure I got from two desperate kings. The payment for binding the fire dragon beneath the mountain nearly two hundred years earlier. Not a single piece of the treasure has been spent or lost; it is as complete as the day it was delivered to me. She studies the treasure, and greed fills her eyes. It diminishes any beauty I first thought she had, for I have had hundreds of years to learn what true beauty is.