She shakes her head. “Everything is all right. I am here to take care of our guest.”
The plait she crafts gets twisted into a crown that coils atop my head. Then she helps me into the dress, and the sleeves are so long they nearly touch the floor. The leather slippers mold to my feet perfectly.
“Thank you,” I say to the maid.
She reaches out, tapping the freckles on my cheeks. “You are an interesting beauty. I think your husband will be pleased.”
She dips her head, and then I leave, feeling unsettled, not just because of what I’d done, but also because of how I look. The sun had made my spots more apparent.
Vann had once told me he liked them, but was that still the case as they stood out more and more?
It doesn’t take long to be guided away from the pools, and I exit feeling wholly exposed. I rub the spot between my brows. What had I been thinking in there?
The warm water just made me feel so… desirable. Loose.
I am starving for affection.
Vann clears his throat, and I look up. The sight of him makes me stop mid-step. He's wearing the emerald tunic, its deep color setting off the silver of his hair and the blue of his skin. The fabric clings to his broad frame, and the silver embroidery at the collar catches the moonlight like frost.
His gaze sweeps over me, and heat flushes my skin. Images skitter over my mind, brought to life by the recent memory of my moment in the bath.
My core feels hollow, aching. For some reason, once I started to think about this, I couldn’t stop.
His smile spreads and I can’t breathe. I picture him picking meup, and carrying me somewhere to yank up my dress, expose my hot sex to the air and fill me to bursting. The…
“How lovely you are, Firelocks,” he says gently.
What. The.Hell.Is going on?
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I force my mind to stop picturing things. “You are too.”
His eyes linger a moment longer before he holds out his arm. I take it, letting him guide me through the terrace doors and down a long, winding hallway.
At last, we exit the hallway and find ourselves in front of a structure built into the largest cliff. Its doors are reinforced with intricate carvings of dragons.
The guards on either side pull open the doors, revealing a grand hall bathed in flickering torchlight.
My senses are just as overwhelmed as my heart at the sight.
Long tables line the walls, laden with platters of roasted meats, honeyed fruits, and twisted breads shaped like dragons mid-flight. Musicians play in the far corner, their instruments unfamiliar. Some use thin, reed-like flutes that trill like birdsong, others beat drums that rumble like dragon wings.
Elves move through the space, some dressed in vibrant silks, others in more subdued hunting leathers. Their eyes follow us as we enter. Their skin varies from deep coppery brown to moonlight pale. Many hairstyles are woven into elaborate braids adorned with tiny metal dragons.
“They did this all for us?” I ask. A feast in Enduvida is always pleasant and beautiful, but nothing I’d ever seen matched the level of ethereal precision in Dragon’s Reach.
“I’d wager this is just a regular day for the elves,” Vann grunts. “Haven’t you realized how much they love to show off? It doesn’t seem to change, no matter what city or village I visit.”
I laugh, and he pulls me closer.
Yes,my body hums.
The servants guide us past a crowd of dancers, and I see a tall throne is raised upon a platform. There, the sovereign of Dragon’s Reach, Selric, is already awaiting.
We walk the length of the hall, the crowd pausing to watch our entrance.
At the bottom of the dais, Vann bows deeply, and I follow his lead.
Selric stands, positioning Lorien in front of him, and begins to speak in old elvish. The family resemblance is clear; they have the same deep skin tone with rounded features in their chin and noses.