dancers just didn't pay off. Then again, he thought with a slight smile, they had a long way to go and plenty of time for Natiya to relax again.
"How?"
Kiril blinked, wondering if he had heard his companion correctly. "What did you say?"
She straightened, twisting the tiniest bit to look over her shoulder. "How do you find dragon eggs?"
"That's a long story," he said.
She shrugged, turning back to look at the road ahead. "We have plenty of time."
That they did. So he gently settled his free hand on her thigh, letting it rest there as if he'd casually dropped it. And if the movement of his mount slowly shifted his hand higher, that wasn't his fault, was it? He was involved in telling his story.
"Did you know," he began, "that dragons are magic? Their eggs can change color and they have intelligence long before they are hatched. They speak to their bonded partners and to each other in ways that we cannot hear." He paused, wondering what she was thinking, but also taking a moment to enjoy the ripple of her thigh muscle beneath his hand. She was certainly aware of his touch, but hadn't rejected it.
"Go on," she prompted.
He nodded, recalled to his story. "Dragon blood is equally magic. Anyone who touches it absorbs some of its power."
"What power?"
"Resistance to fire, for one. But more importantly, an extra sensitivity or perception. Metal, too, can sometimes absorb this magic, if it is soaked long enough."
"Metal things like your sword. And the silver decoration of your saddle." She turned again toward him. "You have soaked them in dragon blood."
He smiled, though her expression was appalled. "Natiya, I am a dragon-hunter. My sword and I have swum in the creatures' blood. I have smelled it, swallowed it, breathed it, been baptized in it... That is what it means to be a dragon-hunter."
"You sound as if you have no love for the task."
A humorless chuckle wracked his body. "Oh, no," he said, his words more an extension of the tremor than actual thought. "I have a great love for the task. I will not rest until I have buried my sword in the last of the evil beasts."
"Dag Racho's Copper?"
Kiril didn't answer. She was right; but to tell the truth would be the highest form of treason.
"But it is the Emperor who is evil," she protested. "Not the dragon."
Kiril shook his head. "Nay, it is the beast who corrupts. By all accounts, Racho was an honorable man. It is only after he became Dag Racho that his thoughts turned to conquering and hoarding."
He felt her body stiffen. "Nay," she said, though he caught an echo of doubt in her voice. "Dag Racho has changed the accounts. He would have us believe he is a holy man ruling us with justice and mercy despite the evidence of our own eyes."
Kiril could not refute her claim. Indeed, he was sure the Emperor had done exactly what she claimed. "Nevertheless, I know the beast corrupts."
"How?" This time she twisted fully in her seat, turning to directly search his face. "How can you know that?"
"I have seen it."
She frowned when he would not say more. And then abruptly he saw understanding light her eyes. "Dag Jaseen. Your cousin."
He nodded once but did not say more, and in the end she returned to looking out over Mobray's ears. Kiril sighed. This was not the way to gain her trust. And this simmering hunger for sex distracted him too much. Then, to his surprise, she asked another question, a strange anxiety in her voice.
"So, you can talk to dragons?"
"What?" He frowned, wondering at her question. "No. Only the bonded can."
"But you said you can feel things. Because of the dragon blood."
"Ah," he returned, at last understanding. "If I concentrate, I will be able to feel the dragon egg. Especially if I hold my sword and take my time." Natiya's body tightened. He could feel the anxiety rolling off her, but he did not understand its source. Unless... "Do not be afraid," he soothed. "The power is too weak to call to Dag Racho. He will not find us by my sword. But..."
She
"How?"
Kiril blinked, wondering if he had heard his companion correctly. "What did you say?"
She straightened, twisting the tiniest bit to look over her shoulder. "How do you find dragon eggs?"
"That's a long story," he said.
She shrugged, turning back to look at the road ahead. "We have plenty of time."
That they did. So he gently settled his free hand on her thigh, letting it rest there as if he'd casually dropped it. And if the movement of his mount slowly shifted his hand higher, that wasn't his fault, was it? He was involved in telling his story.
"Did you know," he began, "that dragons are magic? Their eggs can change color and they have intelligence long before they are hatched. They speak to their bonded partners and to each other in ways that we cannot hear." He paused, wondering what she was thinking, but also taking a moment to enjoy the ripple of her thigh muscle beneath his hand. She was certainly aware of his touch, but hadn't rejected it.
"Go on," she prompted.
He nodded, recalled to his story. "Dragon blood is equally magic. Anyone who touches it absorbs some of its power."
"What power?"
"Resistance to fire, for one. But more importantly, an extra sensitivity or perception. Metal, too, can sometimes absorb this magic, if it is soaked long enough."
"Metal things like your sword. And the silver decoration of your saddle." She turned again toward him. "You have soaked them in dragon blood."
He smiled, though her expression was appalled. "Natiya, I am a dragon-hunter. My sword and I have swum in the creatures' blood. I have smelled it, swallowed it, breathed it, been baptized in it... That is what it means to be a dragon-hunter."
"You sound as if you have no love for the task."
A humorless chuckle wracked his body. "Oh, no," he said, his words more an extension of the tremor than actual thought. "I have a great love for the task. I will not rest until I have buried my sword in the last of the evil beasts."
"Dag Racho's Copper?"
Kiril didn't answer. She was right; but to tell the truth would be the highest form of treason.
"But it is the Emperor who is evil," she protested. "Not the dragon."
Kiril shook his head. "Nay, it is the beast who corrupts. By all accounts, Racho was an honorable man. It is only after he became Dag Racho that his thoughts turned to conquering and hoarding."
He felt her body stiffen. "Nay," she said, though he caught an echo of doubt in her voice. "Dag Racho has changed the accounts. He would have us believe he is a holy man ruling us with justice and mercy despite the evidence of our own eyes."
Kiril could not refute her claim. Indeed, he was sure the Emperor had done exactly what she claimed. "Nevertheless, I know the beast corrupts."
"How?" This time she twisted fully in her seat, turning to directly search his face. "How can you know that?"
"I have seen it."
She frowned when he would not say more. And then abruptly he saw understanding light her eyes. "Dag Jaseen. Your cousin."
He nodded once but did not say more, and in the end she returned to looking out over Mobray's ears. Kiril sighed. This was not the way to gain her trust. And this simmering hunger for sex distracted him too much. Then, to his surprise, she asked another question, a strange anxiety in her voice.
"So, you can talk to dragons?"
"What?" He frowned, wondering at her question. "No. Only the bonded can."
"But you said you can feel things. Because of the dragon blood."
"Ah," he returned, at last understanding. "If I concentrate, I will be able to feel the dragon egg. Especially if I hold my sword and take my time." Natiya's body tightened. He could feel the anxiety rolling off her, but he did not understand its source. Unless... "Do not be afraid," he soothed. "The power is too weak to call to Dag Racho. He will not find us by my sword. But..."
She
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