Warriors of Wind and Ash - Page 106

“Kyreagan!” I hiss, smacking his shoulder with my fan. “For god’s sake, behave yourself.”

His forked tongue slips out, a wet caress over the mound of one breast. Then he straightens with a deep hum of satisfaction. “I’m ready now.”

I give the ballroom doors a sidelong glance. “Maybe we could be a little late… We could go somewhere first, enjoy ourselves…”

“No. I have a surprise for you, and it can’t wait.” He offers me his arm awkwardly. He may have mastered walking and kissing ladies’ hands, but not all the formalities come easily to him. It doesn’t bother me one bit. In fact, I find it endearing.

I take his arm, and we enter the ballroom together. Excited voices greet us, full of joy and admiration. We’re not the only saviors of the land, but Kyreagan’s role and mine have been loudly proclaimed throughout Elekstan.

Not everyone was so forgiving, of course. Many in Elekstan still rightfully resent the dragons for the slaughter they wrought during the war. That’s why Kyreagan and Hinarax are the only representatives of their race in attendance tonight. But Kyreagan and I have learned that talking will not change the minds of those who hate us for past wrongs. All we can do, from this point on, is to show them how we have changed, and let them make their own decisions.

The crowd here tonight is favorable to us. They recognize the sacrifices we made, the pain we endured for love, and the work we’ve done since the day we defeated Rahzien. They’re friends and allies, so I smile widely and greet them warmly, individually. There are no more palace servants—only employees of the new Capital House, who will be retained to help run the palace in its altered capacity as a government building and a house of refuge for those displaced by the war.

Kyreagan tows me along through the crowd, barely letting me speak two sentences to everyone who craves my attention. I’m starting to get peeved about it when he draws us both to a halt, right in front of the tiered platform where the orchestra plays.

The musicians are all present, in their usual spots, smiling at me. I recognize most of them—one or two are missing. I hope it’s because they fled the city, not because they’ve perished in the war and robbed this kingdom of their incredible talent.

Silence falls over the crowd as Kyreagan and I stand before the orchestra, as the guests gather around us, facing the players. The conductor waits with both hands folded over her baton.

Then Kyreagan nods. She turns to the musicians, lifting her baton, and they begin to play.

It takes me a moment to recognize the rich strains of melody, the slow thump of the beat, the swelling and soaring of the strings, and the liquid notes of the flute dancing through it all.

This is my music. One of my grandest compositions, the kind that should only be played with a full orchestra. One of the pieces I never had the courage to give to the palace orchestra for performance.

It’s one of the symphonies the Vohrainians cleared out of my study. I thought it was gone forever.

Each musician plays with a passion that makes me want to cry, and the effect is astounding, exquisite—a stunning blend of melody, sounds that existed only in my mind brought into brilliant existence. I clutch Kyreagan’s arm as the music rolls and thunders, crescendos into a dazzling euphoria of sound, and then softens again, trickling away into delicate notes.

It’s over, and the room is perfectly silent. Enchanted, or horrified?

Then applause shatters the stillness, and I look up at Kyreagan with tear-filled eyes. I can’t speak.

He pulls his arm from mine, only to take my face in both his hands and kiss me in front of them all. The guests cheer louder, roaring their approval, but the noise moves to the background of my mind, and everything I see and feel is Kyreagan. His long, warm fingers on my cheeks. The soft skin of his lips pressing against mine. The flick of his wet tongue into my mouth. The heat of his breath.

He eases out of the kiss and looks into my eyes, smiling.

“How did you find the music?” I gasp. “I thought it was all gone!”

“Two of the servants found it in the palace cellar. Most of it had been burned, and some of the notebooks had been stored near a leaking pipe and suffered water damage, but they were able to salvage a dozen pieces. We didn’t tell you because I wanted this to be a surprise.” His smile fades as he notices the tears slipping down my cheeks. “I hope it was a pleasant one.”

“Very pleasant,” I choke out, leaning against his chest while his arms fold around me. “I never thought I would have the chance to hear my music played aloud, like that. I was always too nervous to make it happen. If I’d known it would sound that beautiful, I’d have done it sooner.”

“It’s brilliant, Serylla.” His thumb strokes my cheek.

I give him a tight hug and then pull back. “There’s just a few tweaks I’d like to make to the sheet music—”

“Not now!” Meridian appears beside us, with Hinarax in tow. “Right now, it’s time to dance, eat, and drink, because we fucking deserve it.”

Much as I’d like to get my hands on the music and make the changes, I push the urge aside, because Meridian is right—we deserve this. I dance with him, and Hinarax, and Kyreagan, and my former bodyguard Norril, until my feet are sore and my heart is full. And then I snatch a bottle of wine from a tray, grab Kyreagan’s hand, and lead him out of the ballroom, through the palace, to the suite that once was mine.

The moment the bedroom door closes, I kick off my shoes and start pulling pins out of my hair.

“I’m having you properly,” I tell him. “Completely naked, in a bed, among clean sheets. Take off your goddamn clothes this instant.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he rumbles, in a voice so dragonesque that a tantalizing thrill dances through my stomach, right down to my clit.

In moments I’m in my bare skin, warm and soft and aching for him, and he comes to me in that sleek, tall body I love so much. The long, thick cock he once thought was “too small” swings heavily between his strong thighs, and I catch it in my hand, running my finger along the hot, silken length until he groans. I have a dragon helpless in my palm, prey to my lightest touch, and I love it.