The Last Dragon King (Kings of Avalier #1)(25)

“Alright, well, if you’re sure.”

“I’m shlure.” My voice was muffled through the bread roll. Narine reached up to rub her temples.

Once she left, I swallowed the roll and smiled at my triumph. I wasn’t technically that bad at the dinner table, but I wasn’t about to get some propriety lessons like a Jade City girl. I wanted to eat in peace and talk with Kendal, not learn what the three different sized forks were for.

I lowered my voice to her: “How you doing?”

She gave me a small smile. Her eyes were red like she’d been crying, but she looked better than when we flew here on the king’s back.

“Better now that I’m not riding a dragon,” she said sternly.

I nodded. “Hopefully, you don’t have to do that again,” I told her.

She grinned. “At least not in that way.”

It took me a second to get her meaning and my mouth popped open at the dirty joke. Kendal was a wild card. Proper most days, encouraged others to stay pure, but she also knew the most about bedding a man than anyone else I knew. She claimed it was from visiting her aunt in Gypsy Rock, but now I wondered.

I bumped her shoulder with a smile. “Good one.”

She burst into laughter and I found myself laughing too. I felt light and carefree for the first time since I’d gotten here.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.





The next few days passed slowly and I was ready to die of boredom. All the other girls wanted to talk about was sewing and flowers and how many children they wanted. Everyone seemed really excited to be here, and were anxious to meet the king and win his hand in marriage.

I on the other hand was anxious to hear about the war. We’d had little skirmishes now and again but not a full-on war for as long as I could remember. Last I’d heard from Narine was that the king and his army were holding the Nightfall queen and her men back at the Great River, but it had been an exhausting feat with more troops going out each day. Meanwhile, the prospective wives just kept getting up and wearing dresses and curling their hair, waiting for the king to arrive and choose one of them.

It was nauseating.

Speaking of nauseating: “I don’t feel well. Please tell the other girls how much I will miss their company for lunch, but I think I’ll stay in today,” I told Narine.

I was half serious. I didn’t feel well, but as sweet as they all were, I wouldn’t miss the other girls’ boring company. One more talk of the beautiful lilies in the garden and I was going to scream. Whenever I tried to tell a hunting story, they shushed me!

It just wasn’t my preferred company.

Narine frowned, stepping forward to press a hand to my forehead, and then came away with a hiss. “I’ll fetch a healer.” She started to run from the room and I laughed.

“No, I’m fine. I just have a headache and need a nap,” I mumbled, but the look of terror on her face made me wonder if I had spots on my skin or red cheeks. The pox took out a tenth of the village when I was little and I’d never had it before.

“You’re burning up,” was all she said, and then she slipped out the door.

I stumbled over to my bed, suddenly feeling shaky, and reached up to touch my own forehead. I felt fine, but would a person with a fever feel hot to themselves?

I was just tired. So tired that my brain felt like it was on fire. I lay down, unsure how long it would take to fetch a healer, and scared by the sudden turn of events.

I drifted off to sleep, only to be shaken awake sometime later.

“Miss Novakson? I’m Dr. Elsie,” a woman with bright green hair said as she leaned over me and touched my head with a metal spoon-like object.

Her eyes widened with alarm and she looked to Narine, who was standing nearby.

“Run a cool bath, add ice,” the doctor said.

“Ice?” I hissed.

The doctor stared down at me with concern and my eyes went to the tips of her ears to see that sure enough, they were pointed.

Elf?

Elves were famous for their healing, unlike their fae brethren and dragons had a bit of healing magic as well. “Miss Nov—”

“Call me Arwen,” I moaned, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down my neck. The slight icky feeling I’d had a few moments ago had given way to full-on illness. My stomach burned with heat and my head felt like someone was squeezing it.

“Arwen, I am an elf-dragon with a specialist degree in hybrid illnesses. I have both an advanced doctor degree in dragon-folk and human maladies, as well as schooling in elven healing.”

Blah, blah, I was dying and she was rattling on about her qualifications. An elf-dragon hybrid? That was pretty rare—next to impossible, really. I’d never met one, but my brain was on fire and so in this moment I didn’t really care.

“I’m so tired, it burns. Water,” I mumbled, starting to feel delirious.

The woman leaned forward then and stuck her nose right up against my neck and inhaled. She reminded me of a damn sniffer, and it was beyond rude to invade someone’s personal space like this.

“Hey!” I shoved her away, starting to see wavy lines rise up off of my body like you would see heat when it hit hot stone at mid-day.

What the…?

The doctor’s eyes widened and she blinked at me repeatedly. “You don’t smell like a hybrid,” she breathed.