Talon the Black

by Melissa Mitchell

  She stepped aside to allow him to enter, offering him a shy smile as she did, but he stayed put. It was very strange indeed and she cocked an eyebrow to inquire. He pulled from behind him a bouquet of wildflowers—bluebells and orange poppies. She felt her eyes widen and her face warm. “They are for me?” she stupidly whispered, flattered by the romantic gesture

  “You like them?” he asked. She discerned hesitance in his voice. “I picked them before dinner in the fields outside the city.”

  He looked so bashful. It was a sweet emotion from such a strong man. Certainly he was self-assured, cocky, and brash at times, but he never acted shy, especially not around her. What spell was he under tonight?

  “They are positively beautiful!” She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes to enjoy their scent. Her heart began racing unexpectedly. “Do come in!”

  He entered, and after putting the flowers in a vase of water, she poured them generous goblets of wine. Then she sat upon the sofa just close enough that their thighs nearly touched. He immediately scooted a cushion’s length away and angled himself to face her. She almost giggled. They now sat with knees nearly facing as he studied her intently.

  “You are behaving rather oddly tonight,” she said. His face paled, leaving her to regret her teasing. Perhaps he was upset.

  “Saffra, do you love me?” he asked, placing his goblet upon the end table.

  Her brow furrowed. “You know I love you, as I have said many times over. I love you more than anything, Dax.”

  “And I you,” he finished, saying nothing more as he fidgeted with his hands. Why wouldn’t he look at her?

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She took several deep breaths before shaking her head in confusion. As if the day hadn’t been strange enough. Forcing her gaze away, she sipped on her wine. Whatever ailed him would come out soon enough. If it meant they had to sit all night, she would get to the truth. And time indeed passed before he spoke. “Do you remember when we met?”

  She smiled and looked at her wine. “Aye. I remember it well.” She had been a nervous child at that time, in possession of an incurable fondness for him, though he never knew it until they were much older.

  “I too remember it like yesterday. You were just a child to me then.” He frowned. “When I came back from the Gobelin Wars, that was no longer the case. You caught my eye immediately. I saw you that day at the target range. Do you know the time I speak of?”

  She thought back to his return, the day she had laid eyes on him after so many years of absence. The memory was strong in her mind. “I do. You came over to me. I believe you told me my archery progress impressed you.”

  He chuckled. “And it did, but it was far more than that which caught my attention.” His words left her curious. “The moment I laid eyes on you I longed for you. I may have not said so, and obviously I did not express as much. I can be overconfident at times, even I admit to that.”

  She wanted to laugh. At times? He was none too liberal with the admission. There was no denying his characteristics, but she had come to love them. It was his swaggering personality that first drew her in against all rational thought.

  “You may not know it, Saffra, but I was not true to you initially. I hid my true feelings from the outset. I knew I wanted you even then, but I also knew you were a lady of the Court. Not just any lady, but the king’s own royal prophetess, and I, a lowly commander in his army. It occurred to me that if I was ever to win you, I would have to make you want me first.” He shook his head, ashamed of his behavior. This was most unexpected. She never would have guessed it was purposefully done. “I believe my tactics—no matter how conniving—worked?” His grin was devilish.

  “You self-righteous, boastful, wretch!” she cried, slapping his chest as hard as she could with each word. He grabbed her arm and encircled her waist, dragging her across the sofa so that her back sat flush against his chest. Her wine nearly spilled from its goblet. Now atop his lap, he wrapped her with his arms so that she could no longer fight him. All the while she giggled for she could never be angry with him.

  Removing the goblet from her grasp, he drank the remainder in one gulp, and then tossed the empty cup away. “I knew I had to make you mine,” he whispered into her ear. His touch sent warm tingles down her spine. Her laughter ceased.

  “Do you wish to be mine?” he asked.

  “Very much so!” she breathlessly whispered. He turned her in his lap so that he could look upon her. The relief in his expression surprised her. Had he actually doubted her? For years it was she who doubted his desires. This was an unexpected turn of events.

  “If that is true,” he said, “if you would have me, then I would make it official. I would ask for your hand Lady Saffra, to make you my wife.” She opened and closed her mouth several times, stunned.

  “You—you want me forever?” she asked, incredulous to his wishes.

  “I never wish to share you with another man. You are mine—forever—if you would have me.” His request was no small feat. She possessed magic, powerful magic, and that would age her more slowly. She would be forced to watch Daxton grow old. Who could tell how much longer she would outlive him? Yet her love for him trumped everything.

  “I would have you forever and ever, Dax,” she said. “You have always held my heart. Surely you know that.” Her words left him smiling blissfully.

  “Aye, I know, but I wanted to hear you say it.” He bent down and kissed her softly. Then he nuzzled his nose against hers and happily sighed.

  “Since you will have me, we can be married as soon as you wish.” She stilled at his words then pulled away from him in alarm.

  “But the king! What if he is against it?”

  “Not to fear little dove, not to fear.” He was far too calm. “I spoke with the king early this morning and he has graciously given his consent.”

  “What?” she shrieked, pulling away to slap his chest yet again. She was both shocked and excited. “You never told me of this!”

  “Of course I did not,” he admitted. “I wanted to be sure of where we stood before asking you. But I wanted the king’s consent before that.” Again he took her in his arms. “It was all a process. I have also spoken with your father if you must know, quite some time ago. He too gave me his happy consent.”

  “My father?” How long had he been planning this? A rush of overwhelming happiness flooded through her as she finally allowed herself to imagine a future with him. She pictured their lives together, the memories they might share, the children they might have, the experiences they would live out together. So much emotion overwhelmed her that she burst into tears and laughter all at once. Evermore, Dax squeezed her tighter. This man—one whom she met under unlikely circumstances—wanted to marry her. When she was ten, she never imagined such a thing would be possible. Now here she sat, nine years later, tucked in his arms and overcome with so many emotions of joy.

  “As I said, my lady. Whenever you are ready, we may be wed.”

  Could one die from too much gladness? If so, she might have dropped dead then and there! Yet she did not. Rather, she relished in the moment, enjoying the safety and assurance his arms afforded her. After she composed herself and wiped the tears from her eyes, she reached for his head and met his lips. It was the sweetest kiss ever to be shared.

  54

  Kastali Dun

  Desaree deposited a tall stack of empty trays in the cookery's washroom, sighing once she rid herself of the weight. Then she departed in search of Claire. Just before leaving the cookery, a voice pierced her ever-wandering mind. "You take extra care today with Lady Crafton’s chambers," Tess said. "I'll not have that woman chasing me down again." Tess blocked her path, one arm upon her hip, the other famously waving her wooden spoon.

  "I shall clean it till it sparkles, Tess," she replied, side-stepping the woman's hefty frame. She left the cookery, allowing her mind to return to its pursuits. She often daydreamed of Lord Ver
ath, especially in the days that followed their private dinner together. What fun it was to construct various scenarios between them! Sometimes she crafted stories where he rescued her from kidnappers. Other times, she pictured him confessing his love before gathering her up into his arms, kissing her fiercely. Her heart longed for what could never be.

  Verath’s heart belonged elsewhere: His heart belonged to his king. Yet she saw something in his eyes when he gazed upon her, something akin to yearning. He was selfish—he said so himself. Perhaps he too had pictured some way for them to be together. She shook her head in disappointment as she walked through the corridors in search of Claire.

  "Desaree?" A familiar voice softly called her name. She stopped dead in her tracks. Her daydreaming had gone too far! Was her mind playing tricks upon her? Glancing around she saw no one. "Desaree! Over here." There it was again. This time she looked in the direction of the source and saw a shadowy hall splitting away from the main corridor.

  "Lord Verath?" she whispered before walking over to him. "Is it truly you?" The question was silly; of course it was him. With so many outlandish tales locked inside her mind, she struggled to believe reality.

  Verath chuckled. "Aye, it is I."

  She found him in a shadowy nook beside the small hallway, leaning with comfortable ease against the stone wall. His arms were crossed, and he gazed down at her with glittering eyes. "I saw you passing and thought to hide myself."

  "Whatever for?" Her mind jumped to a daydream where they snuck away to embrace within a dark passage just like this one. Her cheeks flushed. Surely this was some trick.

  "I did not wish to draw attention. I thought I might speak with you in private. When I saw you walking from afar, this location appeared suitable."

  "You wish to speak in private?" Her mind jumped at the promise of his statement.

  In the darkness she saw the flash of his teeth as he smiled. "I would like to have dinner with you tonight, if that is favorable. I know your duties keep you from eating early. Perhaps when you have finished we might dine together?"

  Her chest felt light, but her quick mind jumped to other conclusions. "What of the suspicion that will create? Others might wonder..."

  "Not if I claim to be hungry at an unseemly time," he said.

  At last she sighed. How could she deny him such an offer? It was settled. She agreed, despite her scolding conscience.

  Shortly thereafter, she found Claire in the west wing of the castle. "Something has you grinning," Claire said. "Are we friends enough to share secrets?"

  She giggled. "I—I am afraid to say."

  "Oh come on! Don't be boring! What will we talk about if you keep it from me while we work?"

  At last she sighed, agreeing that the day would indeed be dull if she was forced to hang on to her happiness without sharing. But first she forced Claire to promise secrecy. Then she told her everything.

  "Lord Verath?" Claire cried in delighted surprise. "You and Lord Verath?"

  "Why are you surprised?" she asked, feeling slightly defensive. “We are only friends, at least I think we are friends. I should like to be his friend…”

  "Don't get me wrong, Des. He's handsome. They all are. It's just—" Claire's face screwed up in thought as she tried to find the correct words.

  "Just what?"

  "He's so reserved compared to the others! I never would have guessed he would be interested in anyone. But clearly he is! Why else would he single you out?"

  For all her dreaming, she'd spent an equal amount of time doubting. How could Verath feel anything beyond friendship for her? But Claire's reassurance left her hopeful. "You—you really think he cares for me?"

  "Sha-duh, Desaree!" Claire rolled her eyes. "He coerced you into a dark hallway to ask you to dine with him. I think he has more than friendship on the brain."

  She sighed and felt her face flush. "I hope you are right," she whispered. "Such a thing would make me happy beyond imagining. But it would also be very bad."

  "Why? How can love ever be bad?" Claire was not entirely familiar with the customs of Drengr Fairtheoir, so it was her duty to explain to her why a Shield, sworn to protect the king, should not engage in relationships of love.

  Even after her explanation, Claire still did not consider it a big deal. "So they can't take Riders, big deal." Claire merely shrugged, belittling the matter. "It doesn't mean they can't enjoy love every now and then."

  Desaree felt a frown pulling at her lips. "If we fall in love, Claire, am I supposed to allow him to watch me grow old and die?" Considering how much longer the Drengr lived compared to humans, the thought was appalling. She didn't mean to sound so defensive. It was her doubt talking, clawing at her.

  Claire gave her a deadpan stare. "Gods, Desaree! Quit being so extreme. It's just dinner. And if it leads to more, then go with the flow. Have you ever been in love before?" Claire's bluntness made her jaw drop, but at last she closed her mouth and shook her head. "Okay then, allow yourself to experience it. Who knows when you'll get another chance like this one? He's a Shield for crying out loud."

  "But—but what about heartbreak?"

  "What about it?" Claire threw her arms up. "That's all part of falling in love, Des. There will always be the risk of heartbreak." Claire sighed as her brow pulled together. Her eyes took on a far away look; perhaps she was remembering her own experiences with love. "Listen, Desaree, if you let your fear dictate your choices, you'll never experience one of the most powerful emotions in existence."

  At last she agreed that Claire was right. If she didn't stop overthinking her relationship with Verath, or lack thereof, everything she wanted to experience would pass right by her. So by the time they walked to the cookery to help with dinner, she was resolved to go with the flow, as Claire put it.

  That night, true to his word, Verath submitted a late request for dinner. Just as she was finishing up her duties, a serving boy rushed into the cookery. She watched as he breathlessly blurted out the request to Tess. Simultaneously, she and Claire exchanged a knowing look.

  Tess rounded on her. "It seems Lord Verath has requested you to deliver his dinner tonight." The woman eyed her suspiciously. "That lord has taken on quite a liking to you, Desaree. This is not the first time his request has included your name specifically."

  She merely shrugged with nonchalance before gathering food from various platters, arranging it neatly upon a tray.

  "My, my, that looks like a lot of food for just one." Tess missed nothing. Yet despite her keen observation, there was no judgement in her voice.

  "Lord Verath is a Drengr, Tess. He will be quite hungry I suspect." She noticed the twitch of Tess's lips before the woman turned and left. Meanwhile, Claire's malicious grin was contagious. She felt her own materialize.

  Just as she was lifting the tray, Claire passed by her and whispered, "I can't wait to hear all the details tomorrow. Good luck!"

  Before she reached Verath's room, she took a moment to adjust her clothes, tidy her hair, and pinch her cheeks, then she picked up the tray and continued. When she knocked at the door, Verath pulled it open almost immediately, affording her a pleased smile. "Thank the gods you are finally here!" declared he. "I am so hungry, I could eat three grazers in under an hour." He spoke as if such things were normal in civilized conversation. She pictured a red dragon snatching up grazers and ripping them apart. When he realized her appalled look, he laughed in good humor. "All right, fair enough. I suppose this meal will do just fine." He winked at her.

  "Do the Drengr truly eat that much?" she wondered aloud.

  "They do when they are as hungry as I am!"

  Eager to ease his appetite, she set the tray upon the table and began unloading it. Verath's hand swiftly closed around her wrist, though he did not squeeze it too tightly. "No. You sit. I will serve." His warm touch left her skin burning in an unfamiliar way. He moved away and pulled a chair for her, which she sank into.

  "I am certain that you have done enough today. Allow me to
serve." At that, he began removing items from the tray and dishing out food for them both. What a wonder it was to be served. "There. Eat."

  Afraid to disobey, and likewise hungry, she did exactly as he ordered. For a time they were quiet. She enjoyed the silence. It allowed her to steal glances at him.

  His hair was messier than usual today, and longer too. That she knew his preferred length meant she was overly obsessed with him. She almost choked upon her mashed potatoes at the thought. Verath's auburn locks swept down to his eyebrows. Every so often, he absentmindedly pushed his hands through his hair to move it away from his eyes. How long had he allowed himself such disarray?

  "You look amused," he said. She shrugged and returned to her food. "Come now, I wouldn't mind a joke."

  She glanced up at him, embarrassed by her thoughts. "No joke. I was merely thinking to myself."

  "Will you not share your thoughts?"

  "You truly wish to know?" She set her fork down, hoping he would decline. Instead he nodded expectantly. "Well, I was merely thinking that you are in desperate need of a haircut." Before she had a chance to regret her silly observation, Verath threw his head back and roared with laughter.

  When he next looked at her, his eyes glistened with mirth. "Indeed! I was thinking so myself just the other day. With how busy I have been, I neglected my own hair. Are you good with shears?"

  "Me?" Her eyes grew wide. "I certainly hope you are joking! Besides, are you not capable yourself?"

  "Oh, I am. But wouldn't it be more fun for you to do it?"

  Butterflies settled in the pit of her stomach. She yearned to say yes, but her mind begged against it. Unable to speak, she merely shrugged.

  "How about after dinner?" he asked. It seemed she had no choice; perhaps that was a good thing.

  Following this exchange, they chatted freely. He was most curious about how she spent her spare time. "I enjoy reading," she said. "On the rare occasion that I can sneak into the royal library to borrow books." Servants were not permitted within the royal library, except to clean it.