Читать книгу Lord Dragon's Conquest - Sharon Ashwood - Страница 10

Chapter Three

Larkan received his summons late the next day. He strode down the passageway to the queen’s chambers, unsure what to expect. The young queen did not summon a warrior of the Flameborn unless she wanted one of two things: his death, or someone else’s.

Politics and petty intrigues. Queen Nadiana liked her entertainment. She was little more than a girl, but she was already well-steeped in the ways of the dragon court. Frustration and a touch of dread made him quicken his pace. He was a creature of sword and fire and didn’t like games—and he was sick to death of bowing and kneeling to the queen. Keeping his head down gave him nothing but a view of the floor. Dragons were meant for the sky.

They were hunters, made of wind and fire. As first among the warriors, he had enjoyed more than a taste of that delicious freedom, but it was unlikely to last forever. One day he would no longer be the strongest. And a much more immediate threat was that the queen would finally take a consort and put him in Larkan’s place. He couldn’t let that happen. He refused to be chained like a prisoner in the darkness forever, losing the entire outside world.

Without willing it, he thought of the stolen kiss in the cave. He had already lost the feast of Keltie’s lips, and that was hard enough. The memory of her had plagued him all through his sleeping hours. Now he understood the legends about dragons devouring human maidens—except that she had tried to rescue him. Definitely there was spice in that sweetness. Forbidden? Yes. It was a delicacy he would never taste again. His magic had seen to that.

Regret sang through him, deep as an ancient bell. He’d been sorry to send Keltie away, but it was safer for them both. Dragons and humans did not share the same world. If they had been caught, it would have meant death for her, dishonor and imprisonment for him. And prison is the same as death for one who has seen the stars.

Larkan kept walking, his bare feet all but silent on the cool floor. This part of the den was deep inside the mountain, and a forest of shadows danced between torchlight and stone, sliding over Larkan’s skin as he passed. Even though he was the Flame’s chief warrior, he wore little more than loose leggings of finespun cloth and the armband of beaten gold that marked him as a captain. He carried no weapons. None were permitted in Nadiana’s presence.