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Authors: Annabelle Jacobs

Capture (6 page)

BOOK: Capture
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They climbed higher and higher until they were level with the cave mouth, and Fimor slowed down enough for them to fly by in long, sweeping passes. Everyone had moved to the edge of the cave, and they were close enough that Nykin could easily see the expressions on their faces.

Cerylea was smiling widely, her hands clutched to her chest in delight. The four elves were staring with matching looks of awe and wonderment, and Nykin couldn’t help the feeling of pride that swept through him. He felt the bond with Fimor strengthening with each beat of Fimor’s wings and realized that he hadn’t panicked once during their daring takeoff. He’d trusted Fimor completely, and the bond was responding.

“Yes, Nykin. Trust makes our bond unbreakable.”

Nykin grinned from ear to ear, unable to contain the excitement he felt at Fimor’s words. He glanced up at the cave again, searching for the one face he’d yet to see.
Ryneq.
The dragon riders were under the king’s command, and Nykin wanted his approval badly, wanted to know that Ryneq was proud of their display in front of the elves.

His gaze finally landed on Ryneq, standing off to the side and away from the others. He was watching Nykin intently, an odd look on his face that Nykin couldn’t quite place. When their eyes met, Ryneq smiled, soft and fleeting. Nykin had never seen him smile like that before, let alone have it directed at him. Nykin continued to stare, his concentration totally gone, and he almost lost his grip on the harness when Fimor dipped into his turn.

“Nykin! Focus.”
Fimor shook his head and huffed loudly, as he turned to glare back at Nykin.
“I realize that the king’s handsome face is very distracting, but please try and remember that we are really very high up. If you fall, you will die. And that will be bad for all of us.”

Nykin spluttered a little, feeling a mixture of embarrassment at being caught out and amusement at the matter-of-fact way Fimor spoke. He held the harness more tightly, though, and readjusted his position just as Fimor dived and rolled, suspending them upside down for a fraction of a second before climbing high in the sky and diving back down. “I wasn’t looking at Ryneq, anyway.” Nykin had to shout to be heard over the rushing wind as they shot down toward the sea. Fimor’s answering roar of laughter was just as loud.

“You can’t hide from me, Nykin. I see the way the young king watches you, and you him.”
Fimor laughed again, but it was softer this time and his tone, when he spoke next, was gentle.
“You seem to be attracting quite a bit of attention today. No wonder Ryneq is less than pleased with Faelon’s interest in you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Nykin hissed as they leveled out and passed by the cave again. He couldn’t help but sneak a look at the two men in question and shivered a little when he found them both watching intently. Their eyes on him specifically, not him and Fimor as a pair.

“Take care though, Nykin. A king’s interest is not to be taken lightly.”

Nykin scoffed. “I doubt Ryneq has more than a passing interest in me. It’s well known how quickly his interests change.” There were many rumors about palace guards and kitchen workers who’d had the pleasure of the king’s company. Admittedly most of the rumors were from before, when Ryneq was still the prince, but even so, Nykin didn’t really want to join that list. Even if his heart did speed up whenever he thought about Ryneq’s eyes, and his shoulders, and his….

“Don’t believe everything you hear, Nykin. The king is not as shallow as you think him to be.”

Nykin didn’t have time to respond to that because as they flew in close to the cave, Ryneq called out to them that they’d all seen enough. Fimor finished off with a flourish, stopping in midair, furiously beating his wings to keep them stationary as Nykin shouted to them all to step back so Fimor could land.

He settled onto the ground, folding his wings so Nykin could dismount and slide down over his shoulder.

“That was a truly amazing sight.” Faelon clapped Nykin on the shoulder as his feet hit the floor, and Nykin smiled back in reply. “We’ve never watched a dragon and rider in action, not this close anyway. The connection between the two of you is unlike anything we’ve seen before.” He turned back to include the other elves as they came forward to join him.

“Yes.” Prince Morkryn grinned and reached out to touch Nykin’s wrist. He hummed softly as his thumb rubbed over the mark. “The magic flows strongly in you, Nykin.”

Nykin was lost for words under all the attention and barely managed a thank-you, not even sure if that was the correct response or not.

“Don’t neglect your king, Nykin.”

Fimor fidgeted in place, and the tip of his wing knocked into the side of Nykin’s leg, making him stumble. A firm hand on his shoulder kept Nykin from falling over, and Ryneq’s voice whispered softly in his ear, “Steady there, Nykin.”

Nykin’s breath caught at the rough sound of it. He swallowed thickly as Ryneq’s fingers pressed into his skin before letting go.

Ryneq took a small step back and ran his hand over Fimor’s neck. “Thank you, Nykin.” He smirked at Nykin as he continued to rub over Fimor’s scales. “
And
Fimor. That display was most impressive. Wouldn’t you agree, Prince Morkryn?”

“Yes.” Morkryn smiled broadly, his eyes bright and shining. “Your young dragon rider was a pleasure to watch. Today has been so much more than we expected.” Nykin blushed under the praise and the elf prince smiled even more. “Forgive me, Nykin. I don’t mean to embarrass you.”

Faelon smirked next to him. “I think Nykin is shy, Your Highness.” Nykin felt Faelon’s magic reach out and wrap around him as his eyes followed the blush down Nykin’s neck to where it disappeared under his jacket.

Nykin swayed slightly. The pull was almost too much to fight against, and he was tired after the ride. He was warm and content, and his eyes started to flutter closed.

“Faelon!” Avelor’s quiet hiss snapped Nykin out of his semitrance. He opened his eyes to see Faelon and Avelor glaring at each other.

Prince Morkryn raised an eyebrow at them both, and Faelon stepped back a little. “Forgive me, Nykin.” Avelor pulled him off to the side and began whispering harshly in his ear.

Nykin looked between them, more than a little confused, but he was saved from having to comment by the subtle intervention of Princess Cerylea.

“Prince Morkryn, would you be so kind as to escort me back to the palace? I’d like to talk to you in private before you return to Hervath.”

Morkryn smiled brightly and bowed his head. “It would be my pleasure, Princess.”

Cerylea blushed, and Nykin was pleased to realize that the arranged marriage between them seemed to be more than agreeable to both parties. He liked Cerylea. She was always coming up to see the dragons and their riders, and he hated to think of her being unhappy. But judging by the way they were both looking at each other, Cerylea appeared pleased to be marrying the prince, and vice versa.

“I just need a quick word with Nykin first.” She put her hand on Morkryn’s arm as she spoke. “Wait for me at the tunnel entrance.”

Morkryn smiled at her and then turned to walk to the back of the cave. Cerylea waited until he was out of earshot before tugging Nykin around Fimor and over to the edge. Nykin glanced behind him. Ryneq was still with Fimor, his hand smoothing down the dragon’s scales as he rested his head against them. Nykin would have been jealous if it had been anyone else—Fimor was his—but Ryneq and Cerylea had a certain bond with all the dragons in the Eyrie.

Avelor and Faelon had moved to one side, still talking in hushed whispers. It sounded like an argument, from what Nykin could make out.

“Faelon is handsome, is he not?” Cerylea’s soft voice sounded by Nykin’s ear, and he spun around to face her.

“I… I… yes?” Nykin’s mouth fell open a little, and he struggled for what to say. Yes, Faelon was beautiful—he was an elf, after all—but Nykin didn’t understand why Cerylea felt the need to mention it.

“Elf magic is potent and alluring, Nykin.” She smirked and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Believe me, I know.” Nykin didn’t know what to say to that either, so he just hummed in agreement. “But you shouldn’t waste your time on Faelon. I think he’s already taken.”

“But I wasn’t… I… what?”

Cerylea nudged him with her elbow and pointed over to the far wall of the cave.

“Ahh….” Nykin blushed as he suddenly understood what Cerylea was getting at, even if he still didn’t know why she thought he needed to know. Avelor had Faelon pinned up against the wall, one hand on his hip and the other buried in his hair, and they were speaking in whispers. Nykin swallowed thickly. The two of them together like that was incredibly erotic, so much passion and beauty, and Nykin found it hard to look away.

Cerylea cleared her throat, and Nykin startled, having forgotten for a moment that he wasn’t alone. “Maybe you should look a little closer to home, Nykin.” She smirked at what Nykin assumed was the obvious confusion on his face and then walked away without another word.

He watched her leave with Prince Morkryn, closely followed by the other elves, and sighed. Today had been interesting, to say the least.

“When you’ve quite finished, Nykin. I’d like to get this harness off and stretch my wings some more.”

“Oh, of course.” Nykin hurried back over to where Fimor and Ryneq were both waiting. “I’m so sorry, Fimor. I’ll do it now.”

Ryneq raised an eyebrow at Nykin’s one-sided conversation, and Nykin shrugged. “He’s a little annoyed that I haven’t taken his harness off yet.”

“Yes.” Ryneq stroked over the deep-red scales of Fimor’s neck one last time before stepping back to let Nykin work. “Your attention did seem to be elsewhere.” His voice had a hard edge to it that left Nykin wondering just what he’d done wrong this time.

Nykin unbuckled the harness and carefully slipped it off Fimor’s body, then hoisted it onto his shoulder before it could touch the ground.

“Talk to him, Nykin. Faelon’s behavior has affected him more than you would think.”

Fimor nudged Nykin again. The solid weight of his thick tail knocked into the back of Nykin’s thighs and made him stumble for the second time today. “Fimor,” Nykin hissed under his breath. He almost dropped the harness, but Ryneq’s strong hands darted out to steady him. Again.

Nykin sucked in a breath when Ryneq’s touch lingered—his fingers strong and purposeful through the soft leather of Nykin’s jacket. “If I didn’t know better,” Ryneq whispered, his mouth so close that Nykin felt the soft brush of lips against the shell of his ear, “I’d think someone was doing this on purpose.”

Nykin’s mouth fell open. “No… I mean… it wasn’t….”

“Relax, Nykin.” Ryneq grinned and stepped back, his hand falling away. Nykin wanted it back on him. He wanted to feel the firm grip holding him in place, and he struggled to bury the disappointment threatening to surface. “I know an interfering dragon when I see one.”

Nykin blushed furiously, silently cursing Fimor in his head. Having Ryneq know that Fimor was trying to force them together was only slightly less mortifying than the fact that Ryneq thought it was funny. Nykin wanted to take the harness, and run and hide away in the storeroom, never to be seen again. He was going to kill Fimor.

“I’m sorry, Sire. I’m sure he meant nothing by it.”

Ryneq looked confused for a moment before his face settled into its usual unforgiving glare. “The elves will be leaving shortly. Take care of your dragon and then join us at the palace gates.” He sighed and turned to leave, then paused to cast a look back over his shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll want to say good-bye before they leave for Hervath.”

And then he was gone, leaving Nykin to wonder what had just happened.

Fimor huffed beside him, and Nykin suddenly remembered that he was very
angry
with his dragon. “What the fuck was that all about?” he snarled, pacing back and forth, adjusting the harness on his shoulder so it didn’t slip. “You embarrassed me, Fimor.
In front of the king
!” He jabbed a finger in Fimor’s direction. “What were you thinking?”

Fimor’s head spun around so quickly that he almost sent Nykin flying backward. Only Nykin’s quick reflexes kept him out of the way.

“Do not take that tone with me, young rider.”
His voice sounded cold and menacing in Nykin’s head, with none of the teasing lilt from before.
“We may be bonded by blood, but don’t think for one moment that you have the right to speak to me like that. Remember what I am and what I can do.”

Fimor shot a burst of flame across the mouth of the cave to emphasize his point, and Nykin backed away until he hit the wall. His heart pounded. He wasn’t scared, exactly—he didn’t believe that Fimor would hurt him—but the reminder of what Fimor was capable of was enough to make him cautious, at least.

“I’m sorry.” Nykin watched as Fimor slowly relaxed and settled once again onto the stone floor. “Fimor?”

“No. I’m sorry, Nykin.”
He turned his head and regarded Nykin with dark eyes.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I would never willingly cause you harm, but I am a dragon, Nykin. A creature of immense power and magic, and you need to remember that. My temper can be a little… unpredictable at times.”

Nykin’s heart rate was approaching normal again, and he pushed himself off the wall “Yes, I see that.” He walked toward Fimor with hesitant steps. “And I
am
sorry for talking to you the way I did.”

“Apology accepted. I’ve been alive for a long time, Nykin, and not everyone has treated dragons with the respect we deserve. Sometimes I forget that this is no longer the case.”

Nykin stayed silent. He’d heard stories about it, how the dragons used to be captured and chained by the people of the lowlands. They’d been freed over two hundred years ago by the king of Torsere, and that was how the dragon riders had been created. The king had offered the dragons sanctuary in the highest peaks of the Torserian Mountains—still free to come and go as they chose, but with a safe place to return to. They had accepted, and in return the dragons had bestowed a magical gift on the people of Torsere. A small number of children in each generation would be born with the rider’s sigil, and upon their twenty-first birthday would be given the opportunity to bond with a dragon and become a rider.

BOOK: Capture
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