Capture (3 page)

Nykin, having being named in the first patrol, collected his harness from the storeroom and made his way to the landing caves. Once there, he placed the harness carefully against the wall, walked to the edge of the cave, and called for Fimor. He could see for miles from here, all the way out to the Nalvaq Sea. It was a long way down to the ground below, but Nykin had never been afraid of heights—which was just as well, considering what he was about to do. The connection hummed, getting stronger and stronger until he heard the familiar sound of wings.

Nykin looked up, squinting in the early-morning sun, just as Fimor came into view. The sunlight caught the red scales covering Fimor’s body, setting him aglow. He looked like he was on fire, and Nykin was still awed that this magnificent beast allowed him to ride on his back.

“Good morning, Nykin.”

Nykin moved farther back into the cave so Fimor could fly in and land. “Fimor.” He grinned and reached out to run his hands over the tips of Fimor’s wings as the dragon settled into position. “Are you ready?”

“Always, Nykin. Are you?”

“Yes, I am.” He turned to grab the harness, and Fimor dipped his neck so Nykin could strap it around him. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes, Kalesh and I flew out over the sea earlier—the fish were abundant, if a little on the small side”

“Maybe later you can have some beef when we return to the castle.” Although the Stone Palace was built high in the mountains, the surrounding flat lands were full of rich soil—perfect for growing crops and keeping livestock. The dragon’s main diet was fish, but they often supplemented that with cows from the king’s stock.

“Yes, perhaps I will.”

Nykin double-checked all the fastenings before hoisting his body up into the saddle. There were thigh straps on either side—dragons had a tendency to roll during battles, and this ensured their riders remained seated. Nykin hated these though, and only wore them in extreme circumstances. “Let’s fly.”

“As you command.”

Fimor turned around to face the cave entrance and spread his wings wide as they neared the edge. Nykin felt his heart pound, adrenaline coursing through his veins as they got closer. Flying always affected him like this, the slight rush of fear as they prepared to leap out into the air, and Nykin would never tire of it. He gripped the leather harness tight in his fists and yelled out his delight as they dived off the ledge and into the sky.

T
HE
F
OREST
of Hervath lay on the other side of the Neest River, to the east of Torsere. The two lands were connected by a long, wide bridge, but the tree line spilled over into Torsere. They’d made camp overnight about an hour from the tree line, safely inside their own borders. With soldiers on guard duty and dragon riders patrolling overhead all night, Ryneq had felt relatively safe.

The problem now was that the forest at the eastern border of Torsere also bordered the edge of Rodeth, and the trees were so tall and thick that the dragon riders had no way of seeing through them.

Ryneq sat astride his horse—a huge black stallion—looking for the elven contingent to appear out of the trees. The city of Alel, the heart of the elf kingdom, was hidden deep in the middle of the forest, protected on all sides by magic, and impossible to penetrate. As Ryneq and his men continued to wait on the bridge, their horses shifted nervously at the sounds of the river beneath them.

Nysad turned in his seat and shielded his eyes from the burning sun. He looked back toward Torsere with a frown on his face. “I don’t like this.” His horse huffed, pulling on its bridle as if nodding in agreement. “We’re too exposed out here.”

“I agree.” Ryneq looked up at the sky. He could clearly see his dragon riders circling and diving up above, and it gave him a little more confidence that they wouldn’t be ambushed. “But at least they”—he pointed at them, and Nysad glanced up—“can see us out here. If we wait in the forest, then the riders are no use to us.”

“I still don’t like it,” Nysad grumbled but settled back in his saddle to wait.

Soon they saw movement through the trees at the far end of the bridge, and the elves seemed to melt out of the trees. Ryneq counted at least ten, but there could easily be more. The elves were on horseback, their mounts—all silvery white and long limbed—moved with the same grace and poise as their riders.

“Greetings, Prince Morkryn of Hervath.” Ryneq smiled warmly as the elves drew up in front of him. “Welcome to Torsere.” He gestured behind him, where the mountains of Torsere could still be seen above the trees. “Shall we?”

“By all means.” Morkryn waited for Ryneq to turn his horse around. “Lead the way.”

Ryneq hummed with satisfaction as the Torserian Guards followed after their king, flanking the elves on either side and providing a protective ring around them. Not that they were likely to need it. Ryneq wasn’t sure how powerful their magic was outside of Hervath, but he doubted very much that the elves would travel without some form of magical protection.

“Have there been more attacks from Rodeth or Athisi?” Morkryn asked, looking up at their escort in the sky. “It appears as though you were anticipating some trouble.”

They left the bridge and entered the trees, and Ryneq’s instincts went on high alert. This part of the journey had caused him the most concern. It would take them a good hour to clear the forest, and if he were going to stage an ambush, this is exactly where he’d do it. “No,” he answered, keeping one eye on the surrounding forest. “There hasn’t been an attempt to break through our borders in almost a month.”

Morkryn raised one of his delicately arched eyebrows. “That seems contrary to their usual methods. Do you think they’re planning something now?”

“It’s possible. Although there’s been no sign of anything so far—maybe the dragon rider patrols make them wary. As they should.” Ryneq looked up, wanting to see the comforting outline of his riders against the blue sky, but his line of sight was blocked by thick branches and leaves. “The sooner we get out of the forest, the better.”

Morkryn nodded his agreement, and they picked up their pace.

Despite Ryneq’s fears, they made it back without incident. By the time they reached the palace the next day, the sun was way past its highest point and Ryneq was starting to sweat under his uniform. He’d elected to wear it in lieu of his royal robes or formal wear, since it was far more practical for riding and fighting. The soft leather pants and light body armor gave him room to maneuver, but after so many hours in the saddle, it was beginning to get uncomfortable.

Ryneq dismounted quickly and ordered his guard to take care of the elven horses. Prince Morkryn followed suit and directed four of his men to the stables to help out.

Ryneq smiled in amusement. He suspected the elf prince didn’t trust his men to do the job properly.

“The palace of KalethTor is very beautiful,” Morkryn looked up at the palace as he spoke, and Ryneq followed his gaze.

He loved the old name, and wished it hadn’t been almost forgotten by his people. It seemed so much more fitting for the commanding structure that stood before them. The white stone walls, thick and sturdy, made Ryneq feel safe as soon as he stepped inside them. Even if it wasn’t entirely true anymore. “Thank you.” He led the way as the guards opened the doors for them, and waited for the elves to follow. “Come, I’ll show you to your quarters myself. You can freshen up from the journey before we dine with my sister and discuss terms.” The elves were only here overnight—not wanting to be away from Hervath for very long—but had brought a surprising amount of luggage with them.

“That would be most welcome,” Morkryn replied and gestured for Ryneq to go ahead. “As eager as I am to see the princess again, my men and I were also hoping that you might show us the Eyrie and introduce us to some of Torsere’s famous dragon riders while we’re here.”

Ryneq bristled and stopped in his tracks. This was one part of the treaty he and his sister had argued vehemently about—the elves’ interest in the dragons and their riders—but was apparently nonnegotiable as far as the elves were concerned. They only wanted to study the interaction between the two, not harvest the dragons for their blood, like those from Rodeth and Athisi, but it still felt wrong to Ryneq. As much as he hated the thought of letting strangers into the Eyrie, it was, as Cerylea had so heatedly pointed out, a small price to pay for the protection of Torsere and all its people. He turned to face Morkryn. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

After personally seeing the elves to their rooms on the upper floor, Ryneq returned to the study to see Cerylea.

“You look upset, brother.” She smiled as she leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Is something bothering you?”

Ryneq narrowed his eyes at her innocent expression. He had no doubt that she was aware of Morkryn’s request. “You know what they asked, I take it?”

He paced back and forth in front of her, too wound up to sit down.

“I can imagine, yes, and I don’t see it as unreasonable.”

He spun around to glare at her, about to voice his concerns all over again, but she placed her hand on his arm and spoke first.

“They are not our enemies, Ryneq.” Cerylea’s fingers tightened their grip as she looked up at him. “I trust Morkryn, and so must you for this alliance to work. He’s to be my husband.”

“I know this, but the dragons—”

“The dragons are magical creatures, as are the elves. It’s only natural they’re curious.” She let go of his arm and stepped back. “The relationship between rider and dragon is a powerful bond, and according to Morkryn it’s something the elves have never seen before. He asked for permission to study it, and we
agreed
, Ryneq. We cannot go back on our word now.”

Ryneq sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. His skin was damp with sweat, and it reminded him that he still needed to get cleaned up before the evening meal. “Fine, you’re right. Send for one of the riders to come down from the Eyrie. They can answer any questions the elves have tonight, and tomorrow I’ll take them to see the dragons.”

“Thank you. I’m sure they’ll find that most agreeable.” Cerylea grinned at him and then laughed as Ryneq scowled and marched off.

A
HOT
bath waited for Ryneq when he reached his room. He smiled gratefully at his maid as she stood from placing a pile of towels at the foot of his bed. Although only a couple of years older than Ryneq, Kalis had looked after him when he was younger, but when Ryneq had reached thirteen, Thane, Ryneq’s valet, had replaced her. When Thane broke his leg, she’d stepped in to cover his chores while he recovered. Ryneq’s father would probably have frowned at a woman tending to him, but Ryneq liked having her around again. “Thank you, Kalis. That will be all.”

She bowed her head and returned his smile. “Of course, Sire.”

A few moments later he heard the door click shut behind her, but Ryneq had already stripped off his clothes and walked over to the bath. Kalis had been with him for years and he’d long since ceased to be embarrassed. He sank into the water, moaning aloud as it soothed his aching muscles. It had been a long day already, with a fair bit still left to go. Ryneq rested his head against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes. He needed to relax. He couldn’t afford to get defensive or angry when the elves were introduced to one of his dragon riders. Prince Morkryn had offered the people of Torsere full magical protection, an offer not given lightly, and Ryneq needed to return their trust and allow them unlimited access to the dragons.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the water, letting it ease away his troubles, when he was startled by a loud knock at his door. Ryneq groaned, already regretting his decision to send Kalis away.

“Come in,” he yelled, far too comfortable to get out and answer the door himself. Whoever was on the other side would just have to deal with his current state of undress, and if they were easily offended, it would serve them right for disturbing him in his own room. He watched curiously as the handle lowered and the door pushed open. The young man who entered looked familiar, but Ryneq couldn’t quite remember why.

“Princess Cerylea sent me to—” The man walked purposefully into the room but stopped talking the moment his bright-blue eyes met Ryneq’s. His mouth hung open, and his gaze traveled over the length of Ryneq’s body. He was tall, and from his position in the center of the room, he could probably see absolutely everything. Ryneq knew how good he looked naked. He was well aware of how most of the palace talked about him and had taken advantage of that fact on more than one occasion.

A dark blush swept over the man’s skin, spreading down his throat where his blond hair was pulled back away from his face. It showed off his neck perfectly, and Ryneq followed the smooth line of it with interest, imagining how the soft-looking skin would look if he marked it with his mouth. His visitor now looked a mixture of aroused and embarrassed, and Ryneq couldn’t resist playing with him a little. He let his knees fall open to rest against the sides of the tub and grinned as the young man’s eyes widened.