Before I can protest, his head dips, and his lips brush the crown of my head.
Every ounce of sense in my body hones in on that action, and my skin burns slightly when he pulls back.
To any onlooker, it would seem intimate. Protective. But I can feel the tension in his body.
I don’t like forced affection.
One of the elves narrows his eyes, lowering his bow slightly but still not at ease. The leader, now holding Lorien, tilts his head as if assessing the situation.
Vann switches to elvish, his tone controlled but firm. A low exchange passes between them, and I am surprised to pick out a few familiar words—travelers and Mrath.
The leader of the group laughs, but after a long pause, the one with the bow atop the green dragon lowers his weapon completely.
Theren gestures for us to move.
“We’re in luck,” Vann murmurs under his breath, his fingers still pressing into my waist. His mouth presses in a firm line. “Remember how Mrath told us to find a city in the mountains? That they would be able to take us to the witches? I think they are from there. They want us to come, that they might issue you a proper thank you and assist us as needed.”
I swallow hard, my eyes flickering from him to the towering dragons, then back to the warriors who watch our every movement. “To thank me?” I echo, though my voice is hoarse. “I am just glad the boy is all right.”
The man on the dragon, Theren, hears. He cocks his head to the side and furrows his brow as Lorien balances on his side.
“Ah, it is not often I can use the common tongue. It will be adelight to practice.” His voice is so accented, it takes me a second to recognize the words.
I break into a smile. “I understand you!”
Theren grins, then says something else to Vann as he replaces his goggles over his eyes. I wait until he’s ready to translate.
After a few more words tossed back and forth, Vann says, “Apparently, Mrath did tell them to look for our arrival. And you have saved their leader’s only son. Lorien snuck onto a dragon, and strapped himself to one of their legs. He came here with the group waiting for us, but they expected us earlier. He ran away when they landed.”
I look up at him.“En serio?”
He smiles. “Well done, Arlet. Come.”
I suck in another breath, my core warming at his compliment. Then I let his hand guide me along. How strangely familiar his touch is, especially since I’d once thought he’d be the last man to hold me close. How comforting it is to have someone to care for me.
The last thought comes accidentally, but I don’t push it away. In fact, I welcome it.
The elves mount their dragons with the ease of men stepping onto solid ground, their hands guiding the beasts with precise gestures. The leader turns back to us and motions for us to follow.
My gaze lingers on the dragons, on their massive wings and sharp talons. But deep inside me, something thrums with anticipation.
No, a rushflowsthrough my veins. For so long, I wanted to stay home. I wasn’t one to try to explore outside, but this? I am excited for this.
Vann releases me slowly, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary, and I step forward, only for the men to gesture furiously at Vann. They take our packs, secure them in a net, and Vann steps forward.
I watch as he puts on another pair of spectacles and is helped onto the beast. Once he is firmly on the dragon’s back, the massive creature blows out a hot breath from its nose, causing me to jump.
Vann holds out his hand, urging me toward him. He pulls me up. It’s a blur of movement, and then my legs straddle the makeshiftsaddle, crafted from rough, woven fibers and tightly bound leather. The seat is uneven but sturdy, designed for function more than comfort.
I’m glad to have pants over a skirt, as the coarse material digs into my thighs.
The rider looks back and ignores me, handing a rope to Vann to hold onto and more eye coverings for me.
“What was all that about?” I ask, looking up at Vann as I position the spectacles.
He frowns.
“It appears that, for them, it’s improper to touch another man’s wife,” he grumbles.