Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Then you’re lucky, little dove.” He sighs. “At any rate, they used it as an excuse to put my brother in my place. That’s how Dorian came to be the Crown Prince—not that I really care.”
“He’s not going to make a very good King,” I remark. “He’s too spoiled.”
“And I would?” Xaren barks a laugh. “I tried to burn the Royal Citadel to the ground!”
“Because you were young and angry—and you had a right to be angry,” I emphasize. It feels to me like everyone has blamed him all his life for what he did—I want him to know he had a right to try and seek justice for himself. I would have done the same in his place.
“I could have killed a lot of innocent people,” he points out.
“If you mean the Nobles, they’re all stuck-up snobs,” I say frankly. “I’m not saying they ought to get burned to death for their snobbery, but I don’t think the world would be a poorer place without them.”
“Well—you’re full of opinions.” He laughs again and flexes his shoulders. “Hey—my back isn’t nearly as painful as it was. What did you do to it?”
“Do to it?” I repeat stupidly. “Nothing, I just…” Then I pause and look down at his broad back. After blotting him dry, I’ve been trying not to look because the raw, wounded flesh makes my stomach clench. But now I make myself look and I’m shocked to see that most of the whip wounds have started to heal up. They’re mostly pink lines now rather than raw, open slashes. The only other thing I see on his back are water droplets.
No, wait—I blotted his back dry. Those aren’t water droplets…they’re tears. My tears.
“Well?” Xaren frowns as he stands up. He swings his arms back and forth, making his shoulders and back flex. “What did you do?” he asks me.
“I, er…I cried on you,” I say, hoping he won’t be mad. “Not on purpose, I just…”
“You what?” He turns to face me, a startled look on his face. Then he goes to the mirror on the far wall of the bathing chamber and turns to look over his shoulder. “You healed me!” He sounds like he can barely believe it. “Your tears…they healed me.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” I object. “I mean, I’ve never healed anyone with my tears before.”
“You’ve never been married before either,” he points out.
I have no idea what that has to do with anything.
“I’m glad you’re better, but I really don’t think—”
“I’m not sure either,” he interrupts. He gives me a piercing look. “I guess we’ll see.”
Again, I have no idea what he’s talking about, but at least we seem to be getting along. I spread my hands.
“Well…what now?” What I mean is, what are we going to do about the ultimatum the Queen gave us? But that’s clearly not what’s on Xaren’s mind.
“Now we go out riding,” he says. “Or we can sit in one of the more public parlors and play chess. Anywhere the Nobles can see us so they’ll know we aren’t cowed.”
“What—really?” I say. “Do you think that’s wise?”
“I want my family to know we aren’t beaten,” he growls. “We’re going to dinner tonight, too. This isn’t over, little dove.”
16
ELAINA
Xaren puts on a loose shirt and we go riding together, side by side, though he has to hold his huge black stallion, Death, back considerably so my placid Mirabella can keep up with him. The Dark Prince doesn’t seem to mind, though. He stays by my side, meeting the eye of every Noble who looks our way.
And there are plenty of looks and lots of whispering behind hands. No one can believe that the Dark Prince is out riding barely an hour after being beaten bloody. How can he bear the pain? And where is the blood? Xaren is wearing a white shirt but there are no stains on it at all.
Of course, no one else at Court knows I healed him. But did I heal him, though? Just by crying on him? How is that even possible?
Then again, what other explanation is there? I know that Xaren can heal me using his Drake’s magic because he’s my husband. Maybe it works both ways. It still seems strange to me, though. I’m the least magical person I know—well, except for my hair and my eyes, but those are just my outward appearance. I don’t feel like I have any kind of power inside me, waiting to get out. Do I?
I mull over these questions as we finish our ride and then go sit together in the Royal Gardens to read. I have no books with me so Xaren lends me one of his. It’s a book of Dragon Lore and I’m interested to see that he was right about there being female dragons in the past. Or at least, women with Drakes indwelling them.