He turns to shout at one of the other elves. Another man. The newcomer nods sharply, and runs away.
Theren claps his hands and whistles. His dragon, Vyrenth, appears a little while later, hovering above him and casting rough gusts in our direction.
“Now watch me!” Theren makes another symbol and the beast zooms down, almost touching the stone. The elf grasps onto his saddle, jumping on.
Theren lets out a whoop and Lorien cheers as his uncle soars into the sky.
Perfect. This day might kill me.
Chapter 29
ARLET
Night drapes over Dragon’s Reach, cloaking the city in a fading purple light that I watch from the window in our room.
Every muscle in my body protests as I shift on the narrow bed. My joints are stiff and my arms are sore from the dragon training earlier. The dragons had been magnificent to watch, but the hours spent learning the correct posture and balance on the practice saddles left me feeling like I’d been wrung out and left to dry.
The only thing that stirs me is Vann. I stealthily sneak glances at the way his muscles tense while he polishes his weapon, and the intense focus he applies to each swipe.
It’s not good for my heart, but I can’t stop thinking about our almost-kiss.
This morning, I’d been ready to avoid him forever. But his hands had been on me the entire time we were in the mountains.
It had been sweet. And I can’t seem to let that go.
A knock sounds at the door.
Vann, who has been working on polishing his blade, stands and answers the sound. An elven woman with copper-brown skin waits on the other side of the entrance to our room, smiling.
“Hello,” I call, standing up to slip on my shoes as Vann says something in elvish.
“We’ve been asked to assist you in preparation for tonight’s feast,” the woman says in accented common tongue. I'm surprised to hear another person other than Theren speaking it here—this place seems extremely secluded. "I will present you with your new clothes. And then I will take you to the royal bathing pools."
The door creaks open further, revealing a second person, a tall elf with braided hair woven through with thin chains of silver. His eyes, sharp and pale green, flick to me, then to Vann.
“We are ready when you are,” he says.
“Thank you,” Vann says with a bow. “Enter, please.”
Both elves step inside, and the man, carrying a stack of fabric, dips his head. The scent of fresh fabric and mountain herbs wafts toward me as his bundle is set on the table.
Vann gestures me over, and I help him untie the twine, peeling back the waxed paper to reveal deep emerald-green fabric embroidered with silver thread.
I hold up the bodice of my dress. The material is heavy and smooth beneath my fingers. It’s the kind of garment I'd seen worn by nobles. Beside it lies a matching tunic and pants, more utilitarian but no less exquisite.
"Not exactly a subtle gown,” I say.
Vann huffs. "Elves aren't known for their subtlety."
The words draw a smile from me.
I trace the stitching along the hem—a pattern of curling wings and jagged cliffs.
“We can leave when you are ready,” Vann says, standing quickly.
I nod. “Let’s go now.”
Picking up my new clothes, Vann and I follow the elves out of the room.