Song of Smoke: A Dragon Shifter Romance (The King's Series Book 1) Page 7

  “Thank you for the food,” I say so softly that I honestly don’t expect him to hear, but he glances over his shoulder and that dimple appears again.

  “You’re welcome.” His voice is quiet and rough and then he leaves and closes the door behind him.

  I go sit in the chair by the fireplace and dig into the food, my stomach seeming to come back to life as my brain kicks into gear again and decides I’ll need my strength today. I devour everything and sit back contentedly, sipping the cup of coffee and plotting my next move.

  I explore the winding halls and open ramparts of the castle with Odin trailing a considerable distance behind me. He makes exactly zero attempt to guide me in my wandering, choosing instead to carve something into a piece of wood while we walk this way and that.

  In the great hall, I observe quietly while young men dart around, cleaning floors and windows and restocking the woodpile next to the fireplace. They chat comfortably, a few tossing curious looks or nods my way, but mostly keeping to their duties. My initial edginess dissipates as they continue mostly to ignore me and the violence and hostility that I expected is nowhere to be found.

  I steal out a side door into the bright, sun-filled courtyard. More men bustle about, carrying tools or crates or large bags of laundry and linen. I study the beautiful stone and metal sculptures in the gardens that depict fierce beasts in flight, regal-looking women and swirling arms of flame. Each carefully crafted artwork is framed by fantastic climbing vines of fragrant flowers and lush greenery.

  I am still strolling outside when the gentle sound of a feminine voice reaches my ears. I follow a quiet chorus of laughter to a domed building at the north end of the castle. Odin’s boots crunch on the gravel behind me, and I peer over my shoulder to find him still engrossed in whatever work he’s carving, not minding the direction we are headed.

  The voices float through a large, arched doorway of what appears to be an armory. I walk slowly inside, taking in the shields, swords, axes, knives and numerous other lethal-looking weapons and defensive wear lining the walls.

  “What do we have here?” A sweet-sounding voice startles me, and I whip my head to the side where a red-headed woman moves out from behind one of the racks of spears. “You must be Eira’s rescuer,” she chimes.

  “Oh. That’s- I’m not-”

  “I’m Cecily,” she says and extends her hand for me to shake.

  I study it suspiciously for a moment, but her warm smile is kind and unwavering, and I eventually reach for her as well.

  “Seda,” I say.

  Cecily is small and curvy and has laugh lines around her blue eyes. Her vibrant red hair is pulled back off her face but otherwise spills around her in a tumble of riotous curls.

  “This is Alina.” She nods towards her companion.

  The dark-haired woman approaches me and offers her hand as well. Alina is striking with black hair cropped just below her chin. She wears tall boots, tight black pants and a fitted shirt – much like Dederic and the other men. She is lean and muscular and shakes my hand firmly.

  “It’s so lovely to meet you, Seda,” she says, and Cecily murmurs her agreement.

  “I’m happy to meet you as well,” I stammer in surprise and fidget uncomfortably with my dress.

  I glance back at the doorway for Odin, but he must have decided to stay outside.

  “And are you settling in alright? I’m sure it hasn’t been easy ̶ being thrust into a strange place. Surrounded by strange people.”

  “Ruarden is beautiful,” I say diplomatically and Alina tsks in disapproval.

  “Come now. No need to be polite. We heard what an ass Moris was at that sham hearing.”

  My eyes widen and some of the nervous tension melts away. The other two women appear relaxed and welcoming, and I attempt to let go of some of the unease lingering in my gut.

  “Is he always like that?” I ask.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” she says. “One of the benefits of being the king’s relation, I suppose. No one puts him in his place for fear of offending Sarvos.”

  Moris is in line for the throne, I realize and feel my stomach sink. He’s confident, arrogant and powerful - much more what I imagined the king would be when I first arrived. At the assembly he spoke with such authority; I’m not surprised to hear that he holds Sarvos’ favor by blood.

  “Is Dederic also the king’s family?” I ask curiously.

  “No.” Cecily shakes her head. “But he is assumed to be a possible successor when the time comes. He commands the soldiers, he is the voice of most of our relations with other courts, and he has helped shape much of the laws that govern our standards of conduct here.”

  “A family member doesn’t automatically take the throne when the king passes?” I ask, raising a disbelieving brow. So much power in human cities is passed from father to son and on and on; regardless of how fit they are to hold those positions.

  “No. There is no blood succession to the kingdom. Most hold power for centuries, but when the time comes, there is an ancient rite of combat. The winner takes power. Of course, children are often favored and have spent much of their lives being groomed for those positions ̶ but it’s not uncommon for them to either step aside or to be outmatched by another ranking member of the council.”

  “And what if you get someone like Moris who takes power? Someone cruel,” I ask quietly. Cecily and Alina share a meaningful look before Alina answers.

  “Moris is brash, yes, but he’s not evil. And a king without the support of his people holds very little power. Moris knows that. Anyone would face incredible push back or worse if they took things too far down an unpopular path.”

  I let her words sink in, wrapping my head around the delicate balance they have established in their city. I try and imagine Raimund’s people pushing back against his oppressive laws, but every scenario ends in a bloody stranglehold on that power.

  “Is there a village nearby? Or does everyone live within the castle?” I ask, shifting the subject.

  “We live and work within the keep. Our territory extends quite a ways in all directions, but our only other building outside these walls is for keeping animals down at the base of the mountain.” Cecily smiles at the confusion that must be apparent on my face.

  “You seem surprised.”

  “I just haven’t seen many people who looked like civilians,” I tell her honestly. “Everyone I’ve seen moving about and working has been male or dressed as a soldier. I wasn’t sure if that was for my benefit, or…”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “We aren’t hiding people from you. What you see is what there is, everyone contributing where they can. I manage the gardens and the fields during planting. Alina is a smithy and assists with forging the weapons and armor,” Cecily says.

  I glance at Alina with surprise written on my face, and she smiles proudly.

  “Eira and Lily assist Ismeina in the kitchen. Do you cook?” Cecily asks.

  “I’m no great chef.” I shrug and attempt an apologetic smile. “I can break down an animal and follow directions. But that’s about it.”

  “That’s probably just as well. Ismeina is a cranky old bird and she runs a tight ship. Her bark is worse than her bite though and her food is delicious,” Cecily says and Alina nods in agreement. “Eve keeps mostly to herself but acts as our resident seamstress and tailor.”

  “And the other women? Where do most of them work during the day?” I ask.

  They exchange a look.

  “That’s it for women,” Alina says, and I shoot her a disbelieving look.

  “Women are relegated to the forge or the kitchen and that’s it? What about childcare? Barbers? Cleaning? Doctoring?”

  “No, you misunderstand,” Alina says gently. “I mean we’re it for women at Ruarden - myself, Cecily, Ismeina, Eira, Lily, and Eve. We are welcome to contribute in whatever way we find fulfilling. But it’s just us. The rest are men and soldiers who are assigned to many of the other jobs you just listed. They c
ycle through in rotation.”

  “Six of you?” I breathe. “How is that possible?”

  Alina purses her lips and her face shutters, even Cecily averts her gaze. The horrible reality comes crashing down and I feel my heart actually breaking for them - splintering into tiny little shards and embedding in my throat, my lungs, my chest.

  “Eira is the only one that has returned home after going missing.” Her voice is brimming with sorrow. I stare at the floor and feel guilt and shame sink into the pit of my stomach.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say. Cecily looks at me and nods solemnly.

  “They did not die by your hand I imagine. And no one is unaware of the sacrifice you made to bring her back to us,” she says, assigning more kindness and understanding than I am due. I stay silent and continue shaking my head in horrified disbelief.

  “No one in Ruarden holds you any ill will simply because you are human, Seda. I assure you. We are grateful that you brought Eira home to us.”

  A chorus of male voices draws closer, and I suddenly see Odin slip inside and seat himself discreetly on a large wooden crate. My back straightens and I go on alert.

  “Training is just about done for the morning,” Alina says and begins pulling out empty racks and lining them up in front of the back door. Cecily stands and smooths her skirts.

  “I’ll look for you at dinner tonight; we can eat together if you’d like.” The sweet redhead pats my arm gently and takes her leave, calling out a brief goodbye to Odin as well.

  I debate for a moment whether to slip back out into the courtyard and make my escape, but the boisterous chatter is getting closer and curiosity outweighs my desire to remain invisible.

  Alina seems relaxed and at ease, which dispels my initial jolt of apprehension. And Odin stays seated against the wall, but his eyes are on the back door as the soldiers begin funneling into the armory. If the man charged with keeping me alive isn’t pushing me out the door, then perhaps I don’t need to worry.

  Men of all ages are streaming inside, shucking off armor and weapons as they file through. They look tired but content as they banter back and forth with each other about victories and losses and technique they used this morning. I’m frozen in place watching bare-chested soldiers move about; more skin and muscle on display than I’ve seen in my entire life.

  I catch Alina’s eye as she gives me a small smile and a knowing lift of her brow. A burst of shocked laughter flies from my throat at the absurdity of it and I turn my attention to the door again, watching as the last few men make their way into the armory.

  The laughter dies in my throat as Dederic appears, misted with sweat and breathing hard with exertion. Surprise flickers across his face as he meets my mesmerized gaze. He unbuckles his armor, pulling it over his head in a single smooth move. My jaw drops open slightly at the overwhelming display of flushed skin and rigid muscle. Dark whirling ink covers his chest and slices down along his ribcage. It wraps around his biceps and trails from his forearms down to his wrists.

  Heat rushes to my face and pools low in my belly as he finishes replacing his weapons and moves across the room towards me.

  I clear my throat and try and regain my composure.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he asks.

  “I was,” I say and meet those green eyes. “But you’re blocking my view.”

  “Ah well, looks like it was about over anyways.” He glances over his shoulder as the last of the men make their way out of the armory. He nods over at Alina and she smiles in greeting.

  “What did you think about the balance of the new blade?” she asks and comes to stand next to me.

  “Beautiful,” says Dederic, and her eyes glow with pride. “The guard could be wider, but the arc on it as it is was just…” He slaps his hand over his heart. “It’s excellent work, Alina.”

  “Thank you. I’ll give the feedback to Ivan tonight, he’ll be pleased.”

  “He should be,” Dederic says, and Alina beams with pride. She moves to start sorting through and organizing items to be cleaned, repaired or re-hung.

  “Would you like some help with this?” I offer but she waves me off.

  “I’ve got it, thank you. But feel free to stop by anytime; you know where to find me now,” she says.

  I dip a grateful nod at her easy offer of camaraderie and walk to the open door where Dederic is standing and waiting for me. Odin is nowhere to be seen.

  “My detail has abandoned me,” I observe under my breath.

  Dederic makes a small sound in his throat and ushers me into the courtyard.

  “I’m not completely useless. Where to?” he asks.

  “Just back to my room,” I say, waving a hand dismissively between us.

  “Go on. Lead the way,” he snorts.

  I stay planted in place, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I think I can find it without incident if you want to scurry off somewhere… make yourself decent.” I shoot him a critical look from the corner of my eye.

  Dederic laughs.

  “Nice try.”

  I roll my eyes but pick up my feet again, walking towards the west block where my room is located.

  “How was your day?” Dederic asks.

  Despite brushing off my earlier comment on his state of dishabille, it really is rather off-putting. I do my best to keep from staring at the place where the ridges of his muscular hips disappear below his fitted black pants.

  “Educational. I think I’m getting my bearings a bit after walking in circles and getting lost for the first few hours,” I say.

  “Did you see anything interesting?”

  I peek at his naked chest from the corner of my eye and rack my brain for anything else.

  “Um… There’s a beach just below here. Is there a trail down to the water?” I ask as we cross the great hall, my eyes adjusting to the dim light indoors.

  “No. The only way in or out of Ruarden is by flying.”

  “But there are doors at each end of the castle. And there’s a path all along the perimeter.” I crane my neck to see his face, but he is studiously avoiding my gaze.

  “My, my. You were taking notes,” he murmurs and we swing up a winding stairwell. “There are paths along the outer walls for maintenance and occasional safety checks. But the terrain is uneven and dangerous ̶ the trees and vines mask steep drop offs and you can fall off the edge in the blink of an eye. Not to mention the predators that use this mountain as their hunting ground.”

  “Something worse than fire-breathing lizards?” I mutter under my breath.

  He stops suddenly, and I instinctively halt as well. His eyes are wide, and I cringe at the realization that my snide remarks have finally found the line which is not to be crossed. I open my mouth to blurt an apology, but before I can breathe a single word, he lunges towards me, pinning me between his arms with my back against the wall.

  Fear clouds my vision and I press myself as flat as possible against the wall, arching away from him. He leans down so that we are nearly eye to eye and brings his face an inch from mine. My magic swirls and heats my blood, racing in time with my frantic heartbeats.

  His nostrils flare and he runs his gaze from the gold-colored shoes poking out from the hem of my dress, up over the outline of my thighs and the plunging neckline of my dress, to the rapid pulse thrumming at the base of my throat.

  “Fire-breathing lizard?” he grits out, and I hear the faintest growl rumble in his chest.

  Our eyes lock in silent challenge and for the first time, I get the sense that his inner beast is prowling closer to the surface than usual. His eyes are feral and hungry and flick between my eyes and my mouth.

  I’m completely enveloped in the smell of his skin, the sound of his voice and the vision of all that beautiful muscle on display ̶ and completely disturbed and dismayed by the traitorous reaction of my body.

  My lips part and Dederic’s eyes darken as he reads the subtle shift in tension between us.

  And then fear wins
out.

  My hand moves without permission to the hard planes of his warm chest and I feel the thud of his heart against my palm. My magic comes surging into my fingers, and I send an involuntary pulse of fire and heat outward towards Dederic. For a moment I am breathless with silent terror as I wait for his screams of anguish or the smell of charred flesh; but neither comes. My own fire sings sweetly through his blood and is answered by a song of smoke and ash.

  Dederic jolts back and stares at me with wide-eyed shock and confusion. He backs up a step and cool air rushes between us, sweeping away his warmth. I murmur an apology and something about getting ready for dinner before peeling away to head towards my room.

  He stays rooted to the spot and lets me go, watching me until I move around the corner and out of sight.

  A while later I’ve composed myself and open my door to head down to dinner. Odin’s yellow eyes glance up at me from the other side of the hallway and he lifts a questioning brow.

  “Can you tell me where Eira’s room is?” I ask in a polite no-nonsense tone.

  He hefts himself off the wall and heads down to the left, motioning behind for me to follow. I march along, noting the turns and counting the doors so that I can find it again on my own. We slow and stop, and he tilts his chin, indicating which door is hers.

  “Thank you,” I say, and he sinks silently back into the shadows. I knock softly and Eira answers in a heartbeat with surprise written on her face.

  “Hello! Are you alright? Did something happen?” The surprise morphs to worry, and I feel a pang of guilt for having sulked in my room for as long as I did.

  “Not at all. Nothing’s wrong, I was going to go down to dinner and wanted to see if you’d like to come,” I say.

  She smiles and opens the door wide.

  “Of course! Let me put my shoes on.” She pokes her head into the hall and leans all the way out. “Hello, Odin. I’ll just be a moment.”

  He doesn’t acknowledge her as she whirls back into her bedroom and zips around looking for shoes.