Dragonborn (The Jade Lee Romantic Fantasies, Book 1) (22 page)

"How did I sneak up on you unawares?" he asked calmly.

She nodded.

"There is a way to mask the dragon inside you, a way to hide from others, even those with their own dragons. You will learn it in time." He smiled as he spoke, and she was surprised to notice how handsome he appeared. Though he was accounted over a century old, he seemed nearly as young as Kiril. His body was lean and strong, though less angular, more soft. Perhaps it was the clothing he wore—soft velvets in golden hues—but he appeared celestial. And when he smiled, his teeth shone like polished pearls and his hair glinted reddish-gold in the fading sunlight. He looked every inch an Emperor, and Natiya felt a stirring of desire.

She knew that it was the hatching time that sparked such feelings in her. They were a pale comparison to the overwhelming hunger that had driven her to Kiril, but she recognized them nonetheless. So she stepped away from Dag Racho in an effort to diminish the lure.

She saw annoyance flash briefly in his eyes, but it was quickly suppressed as he settled on a bench near the bathing pool. "So, what shall we do with the impetuous Sabina?" He smiled, inviting Natiya to join him in this discussion as though he truly valued her opinion.

Natiya did not trust him. This man was evil incarnate. He had ruled for a century with a heavy fist. He had killed her parents and destroyed everything of value.

Except, right now, he seemed... nice. She bit her lip, completely confused. "What doesn't Sabina understand?" she asked, referencing his earlier comment.

"Hmmm?" His gaze slid leisurely from her stomach to her face. Natiya flushed, her hands instinctively slipping to cover the egg and her now swollen belly.

He grinned, as if he found humor in her movement. "She doesn't know that you intend to kill me." He arched a single sculpted brow at her gasp. "That is why you incubated the Queen, isn't it? To come and destroy me? Revenge for killing your parents."

Natiya glanced around, searching for anything—a weapon, a means of escape. Nothing. Nothing was at hand, and soldiers right outside. With her dragon-enhanced abilities she might be able to avoid two, maybe three of them, but she doubted she stood a chance against the entire regiment of castle guards.

Dag Racho's laughter cut through the air, warm and filled with good cheer, abruptly interrupting her thoughts. "Relax, my dear, I have no intention of harming you. Would I have fed and bathed you, set you up in my private quarters if I planned to kill you?"

"These are your chambers?"

He grinned. "Yes, my dear. My private bath. And my bedchamber is that way." He waved negligently to the wall opposite her bedroom. She didn't see a doorway, but she knew from her escape from prison that doors could be easily hidden.

She tensed her shoulders, preparing herself for anything. "What do you want from me?" she asked, hating the way her voice trembled.

"Don't worry," he answered. "I have no designs on your virtue, such as it is." Then he grinned. "At least not until we get to know each other a little better. Debauching the innocent lost its appeal a few decades ago." He winked at her. "Though every once in a while, as a change of pace..." He let his voice trail away before abruptly bursting into laughter that filled the room. "Oh, you should see your face, my dear. I do believe your eyes are the size of that egg you carry."

Natiya felt herself flush again as she looked away. The Emperor was nothing that she expected, and she wasn't sure how to proceed.

"Perhaps you should get dressed. I have ordered clothing placed in your bedchamber. I have some business to attend." He sighed. "It is the little details that are so bothersome, you know. Constant and unending." He glanced up with a smile. "But I have cleared the rest of my schedule so that we may dine together."

She shook her head, reluctant to spend more time than necessary in the Emperor's confusing presence. "I already ate."

He chuckled. "Yes, I know. But as I recall, I was constantly hungry before the hatching. And belly-horned, but I suppose you already know about that."

Natiya felt her hands clench, though in anger or mortification, she didn't know. "I have no wish to bed you," she snapped, avoiding her confusion by rushing headlong into anger. "And I will hurt you if you try to force me." She lifted her chin, looking directly into his flat gaze as his grin slowly widened.

"I'm counting on it," he drawled, a low, sinister sound that sent chills down her spine.

She swallowed, tensing for an attack when—abruptly—he once again burst into laughter, all vestiges of the threat gone.

"I am joking, my dear! Ah, please allow an old man his sense of humor." Then he stepped toward her, stopping only when she began to shy backward. "Come, come, I simply wish to get to know you. We will share a meal and some conversation. I promise, nothing more."

"I don't believe you," she said, though in truth she didn't know what she believed anymore. Kiril false and the Emperor kind? Nothing made sense.

"Such honesty," Dag Racho said, admiration coloring his tone. "I had forgotten how refreshing it is." Then he shrugged. "Well, no matter. I have to eat, and you have to eat, if not for yourself, then for the Queen. Go. Get dressed." He motioned her off to her bedchamber. "We will talk more later."

"Not with the guards in my room."

He shrugged. "Very well. They will watch from just outside your door. But do not go beyond these rooms. Not until I am sure you are safe." And with that, he turned and left the bath. She watched long enough to see him exit into the hallway with all her guards. Then the door shut and she was left alone.

She walked slowly, cautiously into her bedroom. Like everything else, it was luxurious. The bed was huge and covered in silk. The bedposts had gold with bronze filigree trailing beautifully throughout. A huge closet was made of the finest black... she didn't know what. Not metal, not wood, but some combination of both, and inside it hung a dizzying array of dresses. Ornate, subtle, warm or the sheerest gauze—she found all types, each with a relaxed waist for her growing belly.

Turning slowly around, she realized she had everything she had ever wanted in her most decadent fantasies. And yet, she felt empty and tired. Food had not helped. The bath had not helped. She doubted even sleep would make her feel better.

Yes, inside she still felt empty, even as the egg she carried continued to pulse and grow with alarming speed. Thankfully, it was not ready to burst out of her. Once they'd left the Queen's cave, the need—even the size of it—had shrunk. Not greatly, but enough that she noticed. It wanted to be born in the cave.

She still talked to it, still communicated thoughts, opinions and interpretations, but now it remained noticeably silent. She decided that was perfectly normal. The egg seemed mostly to reflect back her thoughts, and since Natiya could not sort through her experiences, the egg had no opinion to reflect. It had only images and memories over which the egg seemed to mull, with annoying frequency. As soon as Natiya found a moment's respite from her conflicting emotions, the egg flashed her a memory: Kiril with a tender smile and even more tender touch. Kiril in her bedroom, speaking calmly, respectfully to her, and then letting her decide her course. Kiril, his face twisted with worry, as he stormed into her interrogator's room.

Except, it had all been a ruse, Natiya reminded herself. A big, fat lie. He was the one who'd had her arrested, not Dag Racho. He was the one who'd ordered her stolen out of bed and dragged into that dungeon. And he was the one who'd created the very interrogation from which he rescued her. That's what Dag Racho had made clear on the flight to his palace. And even had he not said so, she had seen the truth on Kiril's face.

D'greth, she had been such a fool! To think that anyone, even a governor, could orchestrate an escape from prison. She was glad—ecstatic—that the foul creature was dead. And even more thrilled that she had been the one to order it.

And yet, as soon as she thought that, the egg flashed her the image of his face: the anguish in his eyes when she had been caught by the Emperor, and the absolute fury of impotence that he could not protect her. She tried to tell herself that his expression was just another one of his lies. She could not know what he thought, could not believe anything he said. And yet, the feelings had seemed so true.

She sighed, once again turning toward the flowing gowns hanging before her. She selected one of deepest brown, soft enough to be fur but light enough to feel like a second skin. She chose it not for its beauty, but because it was simple and would not confine her too greatly if she needed to run. And for her feet, she found a pair of slippers. Not the sturdy boots Kiril had obtained for her, but delicate slippers meant for a lady.

She slipped them on her hard and callused feet, sighing with joy. She had never possessed anything so fine. Indeed, she thought the footwear an exorbitant waste of money. What use were slippers that would tear at the slightest pebble, that offered little in way of protection or warmth? Their only value was in looking pretty—for a short time—and for feeling like the gentlest of clouds when she walked on the flat stone corridors of a castle.

A silly waste of money, and yet, she had secretly coveted slippers such as these all her life. Now she had an entire wardrobe full of them. It left her feeling stunned and overwhelmed. And secretly so gleeful she took an experimental twirl just to see how they would feel to dance in. Glorious. They felt glorious.

But the joy of her dance soon faded, and she found herself by the window, staring out at a sunset that painted the sky in shimmering colors. Her muscles twitched with the movement, unused to remaining idle for so long. She had been in this castle for less than a day and already she missed dancing. She missed the outdoors. D'greth, she even missed Talned's filthy dockside bar.

If only she could wander outside, could move beyond the confines of this opulent room. She stepped to the door, pulling it open only to see four guards turn and smile at her. The nearest stepped inside.

"How may I help you, Empress?"

She blinked. "Empress?"

"Is there something you need? I shall send for it immediately."

"N-no, no," she stammered. "I thought I would walk a bit. Ease the strain—"

"Apologies, my lady, but it is not safe. You must stay—"

"But I wanted—"

"—inside. For your own safety. I will send for someone to read to you. Would you like that?"

"No. I want to take a walk. You can accompany me, if you like." She smiled as winningly as possible, hoping to find an opportunity for escape. If he were one to be swayed by a smile. If...

"Gravest apologies, but I cannot. The Emperor would feed me to ..." He didn't have to complete his sentence; they all knew that the Copper had large food requirements.

"But—"

"No, my lady." Then he paused. "Should I send someone—"

"No. No, thank you." Then she backed up and firmly shut the heavy door. She barely restrained herself from kicking it in frustration. Instead, she whipped around and went back to the window. Then she leaned forward, wondering if she could fit through.

No. Even if she could get her shoulders through, her belly was too large. And besides, she was nearly at the very top. Without a dragon to fly her to the ground, there was nowhere for her to go.

So she was stuck inside a plush bedroom with nothing but her thoughts and her egg for company. Once she would have thought this heaven. Now, she very much feared she was going mad. One day cooped up in this room and she... what?

She was suddenly looking forward to dinner with Dag Racho.
 

* * *

Natiya belched loudly, then pressed her hand to her mouth in mortification. "I am so sorry," she breathed, appalled by her rudeness. It had been so long since her parents or Uncle Rened had tried to instill polite behavior in her, she struggled to remember how one should behave among the upper class.

"Not at all, not at all. My chef is from that northern land we discussed earlier. And there, such actions are considered a compliment."

"Really?" Natiya asked, intrigued. "Well, then I... I hope he thinks... I mean..." She swallowed, hating that she felt so awkward in such lavish surroundings. "The meal was divine. Thank you."

The Emperor grinned. "I shall make sure he learns of your appreciation." Then he nodded to one of the burly guards who doubled as their waiter. The man disappeared, leaving no fewer than five other guard-servants spaced discreetly about the small dining chamber.

"Thank you," Natiya said out of politeness, but also out of true gratitude. The food had been the best she'd ever tasted, even surpassing Uncle Rened's table when he entertained wealthy customers. Her every need—whether for wine or a clean lapcloth—had been swiftly and respectfully met, often before she even realized the lack. And best of all, the conversation, like her companion, had been fascinating.

The Emperor had begun by complaining, albeit mildly, about the difficulty he faced in establishing trade relations with the northern country of Gambolt. He even asked her advice on the best plan of attack when dealing with northern thieves. She hadn't ever heard of any northern bandits. Uncle Rened had said nothing about roving bands of murdering thieves, but the Emperor was certain they existed. And when she pressed for details, he painted an ugly picture of death and destruction that she had no ability to counter. Without actually traveling to Gambolt, she couldn't know if the country was on the verge of civil war or invasion. And so she gave a simple, noncommittal answer, and then was stunned when he appeared disappointed. But his good humor quickly returned as he began asking simple questions about her life, seemingly fascinated by daily life on the docks.