understand."
"It's a family heirloom. My great-grandfather had it made, and it has been passed down through generations to me."
"I see."
"It's got jewels in the hilt, loga filigree throughout, and it cuts through bones like butter. It's an exquisite blade."
"I believe you."
He abruptly sheathed his sword, clearly insulted. "Warriors always swear by their swords. What else would we swear by?" Then he paused, readjusting his clothing so that it hid his scabbard as much as possible. "What do you swear by? What do you hold most dear?"
Knowledge. Ask him to teach us something.
She mentally silenced the voice inside. Its thirst for information was insatiable. Meanwhile, she decided to answer the governor with a partial truth, and one that he could have guessed anyway. Let him think their sudden accord had relaxed her guard. "My legs," she said. "Without them, I can't dance."
"And without my sword—"
"You would still be the greatest dragon-hunter in the land, and still our new governor. And Ragona is filled with swords you could use."
He smiled. "True." Then he remained where he was, standing tall and proud in her tiny room, like a huge statue to Dag Racho's evil, oppressive government, for all that he smiled, trying to make himself appear harmless. "Natiya, I wasn't lying. We need to know what you know, what you have learned from your parents about the dragons."
"If Dag Racho had wanted information on dragons, he should not have killed all the dragon scholars." She turned her back on him, letting him see her anger in her rigid stance and clipped words. "I have nothing for you or my parents' murderer."
She hoped he would leave then, hearing the finality in her words and attitude. She hoped, but she did not expect. He hadn't become governor by taking no for an answer. Still, it was with considerable surprise that she felt his touch on her shoulder. She had not heard him approach, and with her dragon-enhanced senses, she should have.
But she hadn't, and so she was surprised when she felt his warmth on her shoulder and smelled his scent surround her. It was a clean scent, not polluted with perfumes or the spices of necromancers. Soap. Fish from the docks. And man. The very same scent that he had left on her skin yesterday when he held her, the one that had surrounded her as she slept last night, and the one that caused a pooling of liquid in her bones. She didn't understand it, and she didn't want it. Especially since she most certainly liked it. What was happening to her that she actually liked a man's touch? A man's scent?
"Natiya—"
"Don't!" she ground out as she shrugged him off her shoulder. "Don't hurt me like this."
"I'm trying to help you," he spat, and she could tell by his frustration that he meant it. "You have held off Dag Racho for now, but he will come for you. He has already begun questioning and torturing all those with ties to the old scholars. He will come for you eventually. He is desperate."
His words sent shivers down her spine, but that did not stop her words. "Then he should not have killed—"
"The scholars. Yes, he knows. But that doesn't help you now, does it?"
She shook her head, drawing her arms tight around her belly. "What do you want from me?"
"The hatching grounds, Natiya. Where are they? We know the dragons left their clutches in the caves all along the coastline, but we cannot find them."
"Maybe they don't exist."
He laughed, the sound bitter and hard. "He doesn't believe that. And what Dag Racho believes, he will find a way to prove." Though she had stepped away from the governor, she felt his hands return to her shoulders. Two hands this time, slowly sliding down her arms, drawing her backward against him. His touch was gentle and comforting, and it soothed her fears.
She wanted to push him away, needed to stay distant from his touch, his scent, even the sound of his voice, but she couldn't. Or rather, she didn't. She liked the man's touch. She enjoyed the feel of large,
"It's a family heirloom. My great-grandfather had it made, and it has been passed down through generations to me."
"I see."
"It's got jewels in the hilt, loga filigree throughout, and it cuts through bones like butter. It's an exquisite blade."
"I believe you."
He abruptly sheathed his sword, clearly insulted. "Warriors always swear by their swords. What else would we swear by?" Then he paused, readjusting his clothing so that it hid his scabbard as much as possible. "What do you swear by? What do you hold most dear?"
Knowledge. Ask him to teach us something.
She mentally silenced the voice inside. Its thirst for information was insatiable. Meanwhile, she decided to answer the governor with a partial truth, and one that he could have guessed anyway. Let him think their sudden accord had relaxed her guard. "My legs," she said. "Without them, I can't dance."
"And without my sword—"
"You would still be the greatest dragon-hunter in the land, and still our new governor. And Ragona is filled with swords you could use."
He smiled. "True." Then he remained where he was, standing tall and proud in her tiny room, like a huge statue to Dag Racho's evil, oppressive government, for all that he smiled, trying to make himself appear harmless. "Natiya, I wasn't lying. We need to know what you know, what you have learned from your parents about the dragons."
"If Dag Racho had wanted information on dragons, he should not have killed all the dragon scholars." She turned her back on him, letting him see her anger in her rigid stance and clipped words. "I have nothing for you or my parents' murderer."
She hoped he would leave then, hearing the finality in her words and attitude. She hoped, but she did not expect. He hadn't become governor by taking no for an answer. Still, it was with considerable surprise that she felt his touch on her shoulder. She had not heard him approach, and with her dragon-enhanced senses, she should have.
But she hadn't, and so she was surprised when she felt his warmth on her shoulder and smelled his scent surround her. It was a clean scent, not polluted with perfumes or the spices of necromancers. Soap. Fish from the docks. And man. The very same scent that he had left on her skin yesterday when he held her, the one that had surrounded her as she slept last night, and the one that caused a pooling of liquid in her bones. She didn't understand it, and she didn't want it. Especially since she most certainly liked it. What was happening to her that she actually liked a man's touch? A man's scent?
"Natiya—"
"Don't!" she ground out as she shrugged him off her shoulder. "Don't hurt me like this."
"I'm trying to help you," he spat, and she could tell by his frustration that he meant it. "You have held off Dag Racho for now, but he will come for you. He has already begun questioning and torturing all those with ties to the old scholars. He will come for you eventually. He is desperate."
His words sent shivers down her spine, but that did not stop her words. "Then he should not have killed—"
"The scholars. Yes, he knows. But that doesn't help you now, does it?"
She shook her head, drawing her arms tight around her belly. "What do you want from me?"
"The hatching grounds, Natiya. Where are they? We know the dragons left their clutches in the caves all along the coastline, but we cannot find them."
"Maybe they don't exist."
He laughed, the sound bitter and hard. "He doesn't believe that. And what Dag Racho believes, he will find a way to prove." Though she had stepped away from the governor, she felt his hands return to her shoulders. Two hands this time, slowly sliding down her arms, drawing her backward against him. His touch was gentle and comforting, and it soothed her fears.
She wanted to push him away, needed to stay distant from his touch, his scent, even the sound of his voice, but she couldn't. Or rather, she didn't. She liked the man's touch. She enjoyed the feel of large,
Similar Books
