Capture (4 page)

Ryneq cleared his throat, nearly laughing out loud as the man’s gaze shot up and he regarded Ryneq with a terrified expression. As much fun as it was to tease him, Ryneq didn’t want to scare him half to death. “What’s your name?”

“N-Nykin, Your Majesty.” He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at the bathtub.

Ryneq smiled even wider. “What can I do for you, Nykin? I assume there’s a reason you’re disturbing my bath?” He emphasized the word bath, and Nykin’s eyes flicked down to the water again before he snapped his gaze back up and focused on Ryneq’s face.

“Princess Cerylea sent me to fetch you, Sire.” Nykin swallowed and bit at his lip before continuing, and Ryneq idly wondered if his lips were always that full and red. “She told me to let you know that the elves are waiting in the library, whenever you’re ready.”

“Fuck,” Ryneq cursed, standing abruptly and sloshing water over the sides of the tub. He’d been in the water far longer than he’d thought. Nykin looked like he might choke on his tongue at any moment, but Ryneq didn’t have time to worry about modesty. “Pass me that towel.” He waved his hand toward the bed, and Nykin hurried to retrieve the large blue towel that lay over the footboard.

He passed it to Ryneq, somehow managing to avoid looking at Ryneq’s naked body yet still placing the towel in his outstretched hand.

Ryneq ignored Nykin’s obvious embarrassment and quickly dried himself off before starting to dress. “Has the dragon rider come down from the Eyrie yet?” He tucked himself into a pair of dark-brown pants and deftly fastened the laces before reaching for the matching tunic. The silence lasted a beat too long, and Ryneq was just about to repeat himself, loudly, when Nykin answered.

“Um… yes, Your Majesty. That’s me.”

Ryneq paused, tunic in hand, and glanced over at Nykin. He looked closely this time, his eyes sweeping over him from head to foot. Nykin was tall, broad shouldered, and did indeed have on the tight leather uniform of a dragon rider. Ryneq silently berated himself for not recognizing that straightaway; he was obviously more tired than he thought.

When Nykin turned his head, Ryneq saw the thick golden hair hanging down around his shoulders and could just about make out the edges of the mark on his inner wrist. He studied Nykin’s face again, the high cheekbones and soft, full lips… and then he remembered.

“You arrived late to the great hall yesterday.”

Color flared over Nykin’s cheeks again as Ryneq continued to study him. “Um… yes. Sorry about that.”

Ryneq raised an eyebrow at him, and Nykin spluttered out a “Sire” before blushing even more. If he had more time, Ryneq might have tried a little harder to see how far down that blush went. But Cerylea was waiting for him.

Ryneq pulled his tunic over his head. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“I won’t, Sire.”

“Good. Now, come on. We’re already late, it seems.” Ryneq straightened his clothes and marched past Nykin to the door, not bothering to check whether he was following or not.

“A
HH
,
THERE
you are,” Cerylea said as Ryneq and Nykin entered the room. The fire had been lit, giving the room a far more cosy feel than its size should allow. Books lined three of the walls, from floor to ceiling, and several plush chairs surrounded the fireplace. She beckoned him over to where she was seated with Prince Morkryn and three of his men. “Let me introduce Nykin to our guests.”

Ryneq had almost forgotten about Nykin, and he stepped aside so Nykin could move up next to him.

Cerylea smiled warmly at Nykin and then gestured to each of the elves in turn. “Prince Morkryn of Hervath and three members of his personal guard—Faelon, Avelor, and Lerran.”

Ryneq was pleased to note that Nykin remembered his training and bowed respectfully, but he was less than impressed with the way the elves were staring at Nykin—particularly Faelon and Avelor, who seemed interested in more than his dragon-riding abilities. Ryneq straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. “Shall we begin? I’m sure Nykin has things to attend to later.”

The elves were an attractive race, and Morkryn’s men were no exception. Ryneq didn’t want a member of his dragon riders being distracted by their attention. He placed his hand on the small of Nykin’s back and didn’t fail to notice the shiver that ran through Nykin’s body. He guided him to the two remaining empty chairs, and they both sat down.

Cerylea raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t say anything, for which Ryneq was grateful. He wasn’t sure why the elves’ behavior bothered him so much, but there were more important things to concentrate on. Nykin shuffled uncomfortably next to him, and Ryneq had to stop himself from reaching out to put a hand on his knee. Instead he turned to Morkryn and did his best to appear open and friendly. “Nykin is at your disposal.”

Ryneq paused to narrow his eyes at the amused look on Faelon’s face, glaring at the elf before continuing. “Ask him anything you like.”

Morkryn leaned forward in his seat, and his gaze dropped down to where Nykin’s hands rested in his lap. “May I see your mark?” He reached out tentatively but paused when Nykin didn’t move.

Ryneq smirked as Nykin looked to him for permission. The dragon riders were the pride of Torsere, and Ryneq went to great lengths to keep all information about them secret. It wouldn’t do to let their enemies know too much about them, but the elves weren’t their enemies. “You may show them, Nykin. And feel free to answer all their questions honestly.”

Nykin nodded and held out his hand for Morkryn to take.

The room fell silent as Morkryn gently held Nykin’s wrist and ran his thumb over the rider’s sigil. It seemed to shimmer under his touch, and both he and Nykin gasped as they watched.

“I can feel the magic.” Morkryn’s voice was full of wonder and delight, and he looked up at Nykin with wide, excited eyes. “I’ve heard that dragon riders are born with this mark. Is this true, Nykin?”

Nykin’s head snapped up at the mention of his name, and Ryneq felt the tension in the room. Nykin swallowed thickly as he met Morkryn’s eyes. “Yes, it’s true.” He glanced briefly at Ryneq again before continuing. “It’s how dragon riders are selected. Anyone who bears the mark has the choice to join with a dragon when they reach their twenty-first birthday.”

Morkryn carefully placed Nykin’s hand back in his lap and relaxed into his chair. “Doesn’t that cause problems though, Ryneq?”

Ryneq was too busy watching Faelon and Avelor, who were taking it in turns to feel Nykin’s mark, and Ryneq had the sudden urge to bat their hands away. Morkryn’s question only registered after Cerylea’s polite cough. “What do you mean, ‘problems’?”

“Well, I’m sure there are only a finite number of dragons, and you must get more dragon riders coming of age every year. What happens when there are none available?”

Ryneq sighed. This was what he’d been afraid of. The elves were far too curious and clever. “There aren’t as many potential riders as you might think, and the bond between the dragons and their riders is very complex.”

Morkryn leaned closer and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. “Oh?”

“It allows them to communicate, but it also binds their life forces together.” Ryneq paused as all four elves looked over at Nykin and then back at him.

Faelon spoke this time, his blue eyes alert but unreadable. “What do you mean exactly?”

“If the dragon should die while bonded to a rider, then the rider will die too.”

“And if the rider should die instead?” Faelon asked, his curious gaze firmly back on Nykin now.

“The blood of a bonded dragon will cure its rider of any injury, as long as the heart still beats. If the rider’s heart should stop, the dragon won’t die, but it will fall gravely ill, and the recovery will take many years.” Ryneq waited for that bit of information to sink in before continuing. “And for that reason, each dragon and rider is only bonded for ten years. After that, the bond is broken, and a new one formed when another rider comes of age.”

Faelon’s expression softened. “Isn’t that hard for both rider and dragon, after being tied together for such a long time?”

Ryneq glanced over at Nykin again, surprised to see Nykin staring at him intently, waiting for his answer. “As I understand it, after ten years the break is usually welcomed on both sides. It’s a huge commitment to become a dragon rider, a long time to be tied to another mind, and most are more than ready to have their thoughts to themselves at the end.”

“Most?” Faelon asked.

“Well, there are always exceptions to every rule.” Ryneq replied, and noted the way Nykin’s eyes widened slightly. Didn’t he know about this? “If neither rider nor dragon wish to break the bond, even after being encouraged to do so, then they are never forced. But in my experience,” he added, as Nykin relaxed back in his chair, “it is a rare occurrence.”

Faelon nodded, seemingly satisfied with Ryneq’s answer. “And how long have you been bonded, Nykin?” he asked, and Ryneq stiffened when he saw that Faelon was still holding on to Nykin’s wrist. Faelon’s fingers stroked back and forth over the mark, and Nykin seemed mesmerized by the action, totally unaware that he’d even been asked a question.

“Nykin!” Ryneq barked out.

“Yes, Sire?” Nykin startled and attempted to pull his hand back, but Faelon just smiled at him and rubbed his long fingers over the inside of Nykin’s wrist again.

“I was just asking how long you and your dragon have been bonded.”

“Oh… um….” Nykin faltered as Avelor’s fingers joined Faelon’s, and Ryneq almost growled at all three of them.

He knew that elves were tactile by nature, but the way they were stroking Nykin’s skin was bordering on suggestive.

“I’ve only been bonded to Fimor for just over a year,” Nykin said. His gaze dropped back to his wrist, and Ryneq noticed his breathing quickening slightly.

“So young,” Avelor whispered. “And yet the magic feels so powerful.”

Ryneq had had enough. He stood abruptly and pushed his chair back. “Forgive me, Prince Morkryn, but I believe we’ve kept Nykin from his duties long enough.”

Morkryn turned to his men and spoke quickly to them in Elvish. Avelor and Faelon immediately let go of Nykin’s arm. “Of course. But I wonder if Nykin would be available early tomorrow? We would all very much like to see how a dragon and rider interact before we leave.”

Ryneq nodded curtly. “I’m sure that can be arranged.” He turned to Nykin and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Nykin. That will be all.”

“Yes, Sire.” Nykin rose to his feet, faced Morkryn, and bowed slightly. “Good night, Your Highness.”

“Good night, Nykin.” Morkryn smiled. “We hope to see you in the morning.”

Nykin turned to leave, but Ryneq stopped him as he passed. “Make sure you have Fimor ready in the landing caves, just after sunrise.”

“Yes, Sire.”

They all watched Nykin leave, and the sound of the door closing echoed in the silence.

Cerylea clapped her hands together and stood, smoothing out her dress. “I hope you found our young dragon rider helpful, Morkryn.” She walked over to him, and he bowed low, taking her proffered arm.

“Yes, he was most… informative.”

She smiled at him, flushing slightly as he brought her hand to his lips for a kiss.

Ryneq sighed and barely resisted rolling his eyes. “If you’ll follow me, I believe dinner is ready.”

N
YKIN
PULLED
the door closed behind him and leaned heavily against it. When he’d been summoned from the Eyrie by one of the palace guards, he hadn’t expected anything like what had just happened. He took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his eyes.
Fuck.

He didn’t know what to focus on first, but his mind helpfully supplied images of a wet and very naked King Ryneq, so he guessed he might as well start there. He pushed himself away from the door and headed back up to see Fimor, all the while thinking about how Ryneq had looked spread out on display in that bath.

Nykin knew Ryneq had done it all on purpose; he wasn’t stupid. The king wasn’t shy about anything, and the fact he enjoyed the company of both males and females alike was well known throughout the palace. Nykin could well imagine the blush that had covered his cheeks and his neck when he’d stepped into the room. It must have been obvious that he found Ryneq attractive. He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off him at first. All that skin, wet and just begging for Nykin to…. He shook his head and sighed. No wonder Ryneq had decided to tease him a little.

If Nykin were braver, maybe he would have made a move, but Ryneq could have anyone he wanted. Why would he want to mess around with one of his young dragon riders? Besides, Nykin wasn’t really interested in warming Ryneq’s bed and then being cast aside for the next someone who caught his eye.

Nykin pushed all thoughts of the king, with his dark hair and dark eyes, to the back of his mind as he climbed the steep steps separating the Eyrie from the palace. He’d need to connect with Fimor before he turned in for the night, to tell him about the elves’ request and ask him to come to the landing caves at sunrise. He also wanted to double-check that his harness was clean and ready so he wouldn’t have to worry about it in the morning.