Page 83 of The Death King

She quickly picked up the sword and returned it to the scabbard. “What?” Her tone was cold to mask her embarrassment.

I walked up to her, watching her keep her eyes down and avoid my gaze, focusing on her sword like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

I took it from her, and she reluctantly let go. “Let me show you.” I pulled the blade out of the scabbard and gripped it by the hilt. It was so light, it felt like a dagger to me, so I was careful not to put too much of a flick in my wrist. “Let it fall first—and then flick.” I showed her, letting the previous momentum launch it before I gave it a spin. “It’s not just in the wrist but the fingers too. Try it.”

Her eyes smoldered in anger, but she didn’t release it. Her desire to learn was greater than her wounded pride. She took the blade and copied the motion, missing it the first time but grasping it the second.

“You got it.”

She spun it again before she returned the sword to the scabbard. “So, what do you want?”

“You’re still going to greet me that way?”

She finally looked up to meet my gaze. “How else am I supposed to greet you?”

My eyes flicked back and forth between hers, seeing the distant fires in her gaze. She always ran hot, always sent out sparks at the most unexpected times. Her fire had burned me so many times, but I was still addicted to her flames, the way she wore her emotions right on her sleeve. I never had to guess what she was thinking. “Like this.” My hand slid into her hair, and I kissed her, a soft kiss that defied that hardness between us.

She immediately relaxed at my touch, her anger sheathed like my kiss was the scabbard. Her lips softened against mine, and she closed her eyes, my mouth the antidote to her venom. She kissed me back, her gentle lips loving when they’d been angry just seconds before.

I pulled away and looked at her, my hand still deep in her hair. “The dragon has been spotted. We leave at dawn.”

The shock spread across her face. “What?”

“It took a week for this information to get to me, so Inferno may have already moved on, but maybe he hasn’t.”

“Inferno?”

“That’s his name.”

“Oh. That doesn’t sound terrifying.”

“Khazmuda means silent killer in Dragon.”

“Dragons have their own language?”

“Yes. Dragons have been isolated for so long that the language has become archaic and dead. Not sure how many of them still use it. But Khazmuda remembers.”

“How old is Khazmuda?”

“Ancient.”

“So dragons are immortal?”

“Their hearts will beat forever—unless they’re pierced.”

She gave a nod.

“And those who are fused with dragons are blessed with that same immortality as long as the bond is in place.”

Her eyes shifted away for a moment before they widened, like understanding had kicked in. “That’s why you don’t age.”

So, we had met, and our interaction had been significant enough that she remembered my face. She had to have been a child at the time, but I struggled to place her after the many kingdoms I’d conquered in my campaign. I stared at her face as I tried to piece it together. She was beautiful and unforgettable, but her innocence as a child must have made her unremarkable to me.

She seemed to realize what she’d said because her eyes were guarded once they looked at me again.

I wanted the truth, but she would never tell me. “Prepare for departure. And sleep well. It’s the last time you’ll have a bed for a while.”

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