Chapter 47 Mass Nudity
The view from the ridge is stupidly pretty. Like, unfairly so. The snow goes on forever, spilling down the slopes like sugar. I turn in a slow circle, squinting against the glare. “Okay,” I say, breath puffing white. “Totally worth almost being toasted alive.”
Damien doesn’t answer, but that’s fine. He’s busy doing his broody statue impression again, arms folded, jaw tight, looking like a portrait titled King Who Thinks Too Much. Then the air changes. It starts as a low rumble—deep, rolling, like thunder that hasn’t made up its mind yet. The ground shivers under my boots, and I blink up at the sky, half expecting another storm. It’s not a storm.
“Um,” I say, slowly lowering my hand from my forehead, “is it just me, or—”
Damien goes rigid. Completely still. His head lifts, gold eyes narrowing at the horizon. Oh no. The next second, the sky moves. A wave of shadows cuts across the clouds, dark shapes circling lower and lower. My brain does a complete reboot before catching up with what I’m seeing. Wings. So many wings. Big, scaly, leathery, holy-shit-that’s-an-army wings.
I stumble back a step. “Okay, I take it back, maybe it wasn’t worth almost being toasted alive!”
Damien shifts instantly, hand shooting out to push me behind him. “Stay back.”
“Wasn’t planning on running forward!” I squeak, ducking as the first dragon dives. The wind of its landing nearly knocks me over. It hits the ground hard enough to send snow flying in every direction. Then, before my brain can process anything else, it shifts mid-step. Skin replaces scales, smoke trailing from his shoulders, and there stands a very naked man with bronze hair and about three percent shame. He drops to one knee, head bowed low.
“Okay,” I whisper, blinking. “That’s… new.”
Another lands behind him. Then another. And another. Within seconds, the entire ridge is filled with dragons—no, men, all in various shades of completely unclothed, kneeling in rows like some very confusing calendar shoot.
I slap my hands over my eyes. “What the actual—Damien!”
“They mean no harm,” he says quietly.
“Oh, good,” I say through my fingers. “Because nothing screams ‘peaceful intentions’ like a bunch of naked dragon men falling from the sky.”
“They’re here to pay their respects.”
I peek through my fingers, just enough to see him. He’s still half-turned in front of me, broad shoulders blocking most of the view, thank the gods.
“Respects?” I echo. “For what?”
“For you,” he says simply.
My brain short-circuits. “For me?”
He glances down, eyes catching the light like molten gold. “Word spreads quickly among our kind. The first who saw us would have carried news back to the others.”
I lower my hands slightly, frowning. “News about what, exactly?”
“That their king has found his queen.”
My mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “Wait—wait—hold on.”
He looks at me, one brow raised, calm in that infuriating, impossible way of his. “You are.”
I make a strangled noise. “Can we maybe talk about this later, preferably when I’m not surrounded by a bunch of naked people bowing?”
He turns slightly, probably to hide a smile. “They don’t mean offence. This is how dragons show allegiance.”
“With nudity?”
“With honesty.”
I groan into my hands. “Well, I prefer honesty with pants!”
A few of the nearest dragons glance up at my voice, confusion flickering across their faces before they bow even lower.
“Oh my gods,” I mumble. “They can hear me.”
“Dragons have enhanced hearing”, Damien murmurs.
“Fantastic. Great. Love that for me.”
He takes a slow step forward, and the group parts like a tide, heads bowed even deeper.
“Rise,” Damien commands.
They do, each one straightening, tall and imposing, eyes gleaming like molten metal under the pale sky. The air carries the faint scent of smoke and earth. An older man steps forward. His hair glints like steel in the light. “My king,” he says, voice rough but reverent. Then his gaze shifts, landing on me. “My queen.”
I choke on absolutely nothing. Damien glances back just once, and the look he gives me says we’ll discuss it later. Yeah, can’t wait for that conversation.
The man continues, still looking at me, and I'm doing my best to focus on his eyes and nowhere else. “The mountain is yours, as it has always been ours. You are welcome here, and none shall harm you.”
“Wow,” I say weakly. “That’s… uh, very sweet...I like your trees.”
One of them tilts his head, clearly not understanding the ways of a tower girl.
I sigh. “Never mind.”
Damien clears his throat, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth. “They will learn.”
“They’ll freeze,” I mutter.
“They don’t feel cold.”
“Of course they don’t.”
The group remains still until Damien nods, dismissing them with a gesture. One by one, they bow again and then shift back into their dragon forms. The sound is thunderous, scales cracking against the cold air, wings beating as they take flight. Snow explodes around us in a glittering storm as they rise, spiralling upward until the sky is full of shadow and light. The mountain trembles under the weight of their wings. For a long time, neither of us speaks as I stare up at the sky full of wings. When the last of them disappears into the clouds, I clear my throat. “So… that was a thing.”
Damien exhales slowly, shoulders relaxing for the first time. “It was.”
I look up at him, narrowing my eyes. “You planned that, didn’t you?”
“I don’t plan mass nudity,” he says, deadpan.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He glances sideways at me, lips twitching. “You handled it well.”
“Handled it? I almost passed out. There were so many butts.”
That earns a quiet laugh from him, the kind that sounds like he tried not to let it happen but failed anyway.
“Glad you’re amused,” I grumble, tugging my hood up. “Next time, I want a warning before the royal welcoming committee shows up in their birthday suits.”
“Next time,” he agrees.
We start back down the ridge, our footprints the only marks left in the snow. After a while, I glance at him. “So… they all just do whatever you say?”
“Yes.”
“Even the naked part?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Right,” I say. “Noted.”
The wind catches my coat as we walk, and I can’t help glancing over my shoulder at the empty sky where a hundred dragons bowed. The image sticks with me — not the awe, not the fear — just the absurdity of it. I shake my head, half smiling to myself. “Only me,” I mutter. “Only I could end up 'queen' of the world’s most overdressed species who forgot how clothes work.”
Damien doesn’t look back, but I can see the edge of his grin. “Under-dressed,” he corrects quietly.
I groan. “So many butts...”
“And yet,” he says softly, “you’re still here.”
I wanted adventure... I didn’t expect an entire species to drop their pants for it.