Chapter 70: The dragon and the dove

Chapter 70: The dragon and the dove
For the first time since she had arrived in the Sun-Lands, the morning air was completely still.

There would be no horns calling the hunting parties today. Jarek’s celebration for his unborn heir had been so massive, and the slaughter so plentiful, that there was enough roasted meat to feed the Old Village for another three days. It was a rare, quiet dawn, and an even rarer occasion where the Dragon King allowed himself to sleep past the sunrise.

Misarya woke before him. She lay perfectly still beneath the heavy furs, terrified that even the slightest shift of the mattress would rouse him from his much-needed rest.

Beneath the covers, Misarya’s body ached. It was a deep, heavy soreness in her thighs and her core from the way he had relentlessly taken her the night before. It was a lingering pain she never imagined she would become so profoundly affectionate toward.

She reached out, her fingertips hovering just a breath away from his skin, tracing the outline of his jaw without touching him, terrified of waking him.

She knew what she looked like to him in the dark. She had seen the raw, consuming desire in his golden eyes, the way his face contorted with undeniable pleasure when he buried himself inside her. But in the quiet light of morning, the doubts crept back in. Was all that fire just a means to an end? Was it simply the primal urge to plant his seed and secure his legacy?

Back in Halen-dar, it was common knowledge that many lords stopped visiting their wives' chambers entirely once a male heir was born. Would Ikarion do the same? Would the fire go out the moment she finally gave him a son?

He was a good husband. Despite the terror of being taken from her home, despite the brutal harshness of the plains, he protected her, he provided for her, and he cared about her. But as she watched him sleep, her heart ached with a terrifying, unanswered question: Does he love me?

Suddenly, the heavy iron latch of the cabin door clacked loudly.

The door swung open, hitting the interior wall with a loud thud, and a blinding burst of golden sunlight flooded the dim room.

Ikarion moved with the terrifying, instinctual speed of a predator. Before Misarya could even gasp, he was awake, his massive body lunging upward, his hand ripping the heavy steel dagger from the bedside table and leveling it at the intruder in a fraction of a second.

"Oh!"

A feminine voice gasped, sounding entirely too amused to be truly frightened.

Misarya bolted upright, clutching the thick furs tightly to her bare chest, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Standing in the doorway, bathed in the morning sun, was Maya. She was not dressed like a companion ready to draw water or sort herbs. She wore a stunning, deeply dyed saffron halter dress, the fabric clinging to her curves, with slits cut so dangerously high up her thighs that every step revealed the long, bare line of her legs to the height of her hips.

"My King, I apologize!" Maya said, placing a delicate hand over her collarbone, her wide eyes feigning innocence as they swept over Ikarion's bare, scarred chest. "I came to tend to the Queen... I didn't know you came to her cabin last night."

Ikarion slowly lowered the dagger, his Warlord mask snapping firmly into place. His jaw locked, his golden eyes narrowing with absolute, unfiltered annoyance.

"Where else would I fucking be?" he grumbled, his voice rough with sleep and irritation. He tossed the dagger back onto the table with a loud clatter.

Misarya felt a hot spike of anger pierce through her shock. She pulled the covers higher, her spine stiffening into perfect, aristocratic posture despite being naked beneath the wool.

"This cabin hasn't been just mine for a long while, Maya," Misarya said, her voice dripping with Halendarian ice. "The King and I share it."

Maya offered a small, thoroughly unapologetic bow. "My profound apologies, my Queen. My brother said you graciously accepted his offer for me to replace his wife, Rhea, for a while... I simply wanted to arrive early and do a good job."

"Sure," Misarya said flatly. "First of all, if Azeth is sleeping outside the door, it means the King is inside. And my companions never enter when the King is here." Misarya held Maya's gaze, refusing to back down. "Because we are usually asleep... And not dressed. Like now."

Maya let out a light, breathy laugh, her eyes drifting back to Ikarion. "Oh, do not worry, my Queen. I do not mind at all."

Misarya’s blood ran cold. The sheer audacity of the woman was staggering. She offered her a dry, razor-sharp smile. "But I do."

The silence in the cabin stretched, heavy and lethal. Maya’s smile faltered slightly under the uncompromising weight of the Queen’s glare.

"Please, Maya," Misarya commanded softly, exercising her authority. "You may leave us."

Maya blinked, covering her retreat with another polite, sweeping bow. "Alright... I will be right outside if you need anything, my Queen. My King."

She pulled the door shut behind her, plunging the room back into the cool, quiet shadows.

Misarya let out a long, shaky breath, the tension leaving her shoulders as she turned to her husband. "I am so sorry."

Ikarion let out a low, rumbling chuckle, falling back against the pillows and rubbing a large hand over his face. "Well," he muttered, "I really shouldn't get too used to sleeping that much anyway. Or that well."

He reached out, his large, calloused fingers gently brushing a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek.

Misarya leaned into his palm, closing her eyes for a moment. "Jarek cornered me last night at the high table to take his sister as my companion... I couldn't say no without insulting him in front of everyone. But I didn't want this."

"It is a small courtesy, my dove," Ikarion said smoothly, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. "You are a good Queen, and your companions hold a prestigious status among our people because of that. Jarek is just trying to elevate his sister's position. His family has a vast amount of gold, but not that much respect among the warriors. Let her carry your water and make our bed. It costs you nothing."

Misarya opened her eyes, blinking. Her mind entirely stalled on the first sentence.

"What did you call me?" she asked softly.

Ikarion frowned slightly, his hand pausing on her cheek. "I said you were a good Queen."

"No," Misarya smiled, a sudden, bright warmth blooming in her chest, pushing Maya entirely out of her mind. "Before that. You said... my dove."

Ikarion’s eyes widened slightly. A faint, almost imperceptible flush of color touched the tips of his ears. The terrifying Warlord of the Sands actually looked flustered.

He cleared his throat, looking away toward the ceiling. "Oh. That."

He let out a slow breath, his fingers sliding down to rest against the pulse point at her neck.

"I think I dreamed of that tonight," he confessed, his voice dropping to a quiet, intimate rumble. "I don't usually dream…"

Misarya shifted closer to him, the covers slipping slightly as she rested her hand flat against the center of his chest, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart. "What was it like? Your dream?"

Ikarion was quiet for a long moment, his golden eyes searching the shadows of the wooden beams above them as if trying to catch the fading memory.

"I don't remember much," he murmured, his arm wrapping around her waist to pull her flush against his side. "But I saw a dragon. It wasn't Askarya. It was a different dragon... Massive, and dark."

He looked down at her, his expression unusually open, vulnerable, and deeply tender.

"And there was a small, white dove," he finished softly, "resting right next to it."

Misarya smiled, resting her head against his shoulder, her heart soaring.

"I like that," she whispered, reaching up to thread her fingers through his dark hair, pulling him down toward her lips. "I'll be your dove, then."