No, it is difficult for a mighty predator such as myself to calm prey animals. I could, but your mate is doing a sufficient job. He has admirable power for a human, and he is conscientious and appealing.
The compliments startled Rysha. She hadn’t realized Shulina Arya had noticed anything about Trip. I hope I can get my parents to think so.
If you decide you no longer desire him as a mate one day, I may take him as mine.
Rysha almost fell over.
Trip walked out at that moment, lifting a hand as if to catch her. She steadied herself on a hitching post. He looked at the ground in puzzlement, no doubt wondering what had tripped her.
Rysha, cheeks flaming red, hoped he hadn’t heard the telepathic conversation.
“Is it all right to climb onto her?” Trip asked, waving at Shulina Arya.
Rysha couldn’t keep from making a choking noise. “Yeah, more than all right, I gather.”
Trip tilted his head in further puzzlement, seemingly unaware that the dragon’s violet eyes were regarding him. Not with sexual consideration, Rysha hoped.
Fear not, Storyteller. I would never take a mate from my rider. That would be a most despicable practice. And I do not feel sexual attraction for humans when I am in dragon form. I only note that some human males are more appealing than others. That Captain Duck has very noble thoughts regarding me too.
“Are you all right?” Trip touched Rysha’s sleeve. “You look dazed. Did something happen?” He frowned around the stables yard, no doubt ready to leap to her defense if someone had passed by and slighted her.
“Sorry, I’m fine. I was just having a conversation with Shulina Arya that I didn’t realize she was old enough to have.”
Really, Storyteller! I am a fully mature and fertile female.
Rysha thought of Shulina Arya racing around the castle on her scooter, her ponytail streaming behind her, but only replied with, I apologize. I hadn’t realized you were, uh, fertile.
I’ve had two mating cycles now. I have not let any male dragons breed with me, however. I do not desire young at this time. And so many males are so ridiculously full of themselves.
Like Bhrava Saruth?
Indeed!
“Yes,” Rysha said out loud, realizing Trip was gazing at her, waiting for an explanation. She decided not to offer it, instead waving to Shulina Arya’s back. “I believe we can climb on.”
The dragon settled onto her belly to allow easy access, but Trip waved a finger, and Rysha, who wasn’t carrying around Dorfindral on her day off, floated into the air. They settled atop Shulina Arya’s back together.
See, conscientious, Shulina Arya observed.
Yes, I’ve noticed.
Fortunately, the dragon hopped into the air and flapped her wings without remarking further on Trip’s attributes.
From behind her, he slipped his arms around Rysha’s waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. She leaned back into his warm grip, though it was hard not to forget Shulina Arya’s words and comments on being fertile.
Perhaps a dragon might be less likely than a mare to object to vigorous holding, he murmured into her mind, kissing the side of her neck.
Uh, I think we’d be far more likely to get commentary.
But not objections?
No, I think Shulina Arya might like seeing your vigor.
What?
Never mind. As they soared over the walls of the army fort and toward the city walls, Rysha decided it was time for a subject change. I confess to having an ulterior motive for asking you to dinner.
Oh? You want to lure me off to a higher-quality bed that doesn’t creak so much? I believe I fixed that this morning, but a little grease would—
That’s not the reason. Rysha knew he was joking, but she was mortified at the idea of having sex in her parents’ manor. In the bedroom she’d grown up in. That was just down the hall from her parents’ bedroom. And Aunt Tadelay’s bedroom.
Trip squeezed her shoulder. Go ahead. I’ll be serious.
Rysha wished she had responded with a joke instead of horror. He was always serious. And so often grim. Hadn’t she been the one to tell him to have fun more often?
She reached back and patted his thigh. When my aunt and mother came to visit, after you absconded with my pillow, they said they were worried about riots in the countryside and trouble among Iskandia’s subjects, due to worry about the future. The potentially dragon-filled future.
I’ve heard similar stories and read about a rise in crime in the newspapers.
I think there’s trouble in my own home. They alluded to something, but wouldn’t go into details. I was hoping that a telepathic sorcerer might be able to sneak into my father’s thoughts in particular and try to get information.
You want me to intrude upon your father’s privacy?
To help me help them. If they need help.
Don’t you think I’ve, ah, caused affront enough to your family already?
By being naked in my bed?
That was the affront I was thinking of, yes.
If it makes you feel better, you could have Azarwrath do the spying.
How’s the food at your castle?
Rysha glanced back, startled by the question. We have a chef. It’s always good.
Azarwrath may be distracted then. Especially if there’s a sommelier too.
We don’t have a sommelier, Rysha said, surprised he knew of the occupation. She’d never heard him mention enjoying alcohol of any kind. We’re not that rich.
Right, only a chef, a butler, and a maid. Quite impoverished.
Keep teasing me, and you’re never going to get vigorous holding.
You would withhold holding? Even after I fixed your bed?
It wasn’t broken. It was old and had character.
If it’s like everything else on the army installation, it was built by the lowest bidder.
Shulina Arya, who had set a leisurely pace flying them to Sardelle’s house, tilted her wings and soared toward the rooftop. For some reason, she liked to land on it, rather than in the yard.
I’ll lift you down, Trip told her. Even though you’re potentially withholding holding and also officially an elite troops officer now, and I know hopping off a rooftop is a simple matter for you, perhaps preferable to using stairs or ladders.
You’re very kind.
I’ll also go with you to dinner and spy on your father.
Extremely kind. I withdraw my objection to vigorous holding.
Excellent.
So long as it’s not done in front of my father. Or my mother. Or my aunt. Or my sister.
Are we allowed to touch at all in your castle?
We’ll see.
Trip held his chin up as he walked along the lakefront road toward the sprawling stone manor. He did his best to look stately and acceptable. Since he kept nervously smoothing the jacket of his dress uniform, he wasn’t positive he managed the look. Also, mud spattered his boots and his shins, since the gravel road featured a lot of potholes brimming with rainwater. Even though the calendar promised summer was only a few weeks away, the frequent precipitation in this part of Iskandia made it hard to tell.