I stiffened even though the greedy part of me—the thread that all the Haras seemed to share—perked up at the notion of things. New, glittering, pretty things. New dresses. Clothes. Things I hadn’t allowed myself to have in years.
The want mingled with my pride.
“I don’t need new dresses,” I said, sniffing. “I have a few that are perfectly acceptable for—”
“Wife,” he growled, cutting me off. He jabbed his black claw at me again, his pointed ears twitching. Which I found…fascinating. “For once, do not argue with me.”
I glowered at him but bit my tongue.
“Good,” he rasped, pleased. “Maybe you can be tamed.”
To prevent myself from clawing at his eyes, I tilted my head to regard the Silver Sea, fuming. My ire softened when I remembered the skim of the water against my fingertips, the lap of the waves against my hair as Azur had flown me over it.
I’d never experienced anything like that before.
I’d never felt so free. So thrilled. So weightless.
And I wanted to do it again.
Drawing in a deep breath, I turned to Azur. He might deny me. But I’d ask all the same.
“Will you take me over the sea again?”
Azur’s gaze steadily flickered between my eyes. His expression was unreadable as always, his slitted pupils widening before contracting. His fangs were still elongated and pressed against his surprisingly soft lips.
“If you take the baanye, I will,” he grumbled finally. His gaze sharpened when my lips parted. “At every meal.”
A small price, I supposed, to experience the thrill of flying. I was looking at those wings in a whole new light. A new world had been opened up to me.
With a curt nod, trying to hide my blooming excitement, I sniffed and said primly, “That’s fair.”
Did Azur’s lips quirk? I couldn’t be certain.
Maybe…maybe my life in Krynn could be fulfilling. Maybe my marriage to Azur wasn’t completely doomed. We seemed to be taking small steps, small compromises toward one another.
What would happen if we met in the middle?
“Ludayn,” Azur called out suddenly, raising his voice.
My brow furrowed.
My indigo-haired keeper suddenly scurried down the steps from the upper terrace. My cheeks reddened. How long had she been nearby?
Likely the whole time, I knew. Gods, had she heard us? As my keeper, she was never far, always waiting nearby to serve me food or drinks, especially when Kalia and I worked on the starwood blooms. It was her duty, I’d begun to realize. To make sure I was content, cared for.
“Yes, Kyzaire?” she asked breathlessly.
“Take the Kylaira up to her rooms,” Azur ordered her, though his gaze never left mine. “She seems to have ripped her dress.”
I shot him a warning glare.
“So clumsy,” he purred, making my heart stutter in my chest, just as a jarring, familiar warmth bloomed between my thighs. He turned from me then, and I gaped after him. “And make sure she drinks her baanye. I don’t care if you have to force it down her throat.”
With that, my silver-tongued charmer of a husband disappeared, shooting into the sky, flying toward the balcony that I guessed was his office in the west wing of the keep.
I met Ludayn’s gaze with burning cheeks.
She bit her lip with glinting fangs to hide her smile. “Come, Kylaira, let’s get you changed.”
Chapter 22
Gemma
“Ludayn.”
“Yes?” my keeper asked, still admiring the fabrics on my new clothes, running her fingertips over them as she organized them a third time, this time by color. Clothes that had been delivered just that morning, just four days after the initial consultation and measuring with the clothier from Laras.
Luxurious dresses spilled from my wardrobe, in various shades of blues and lilacs and silver, crafted with material so light and airy it felt like I was wearing nothing at all. Another dress was blood red. The plunging bodice shimmered with silver metal swirls which had been sewn so tightly and expertly they resembled embroidery. Kalia had argued that I needed a dress for the harvest ball, though I’d told her that Azur likely didn’t want me to attend.
She’d waved her hand and gotten her way, telling the clothier—who wasn’t a Kylorr at all but a Hindras female, small with nimble, delicate fingers—to add it to the purchase order. Estee was her name. Hindras had always reminded me of faeries from the Old Earth stories, with translucent wings to match, though they didn’t fly. But their bones seemed hollow and they had large, unblinking, black, glossy eyes that I could see my reflection in.
Also added to that purchase order—which Kalia had gleefully helped me fill, as Azur had guessed she might—were pants and trews and beautiful, flowing tops of various styles. Fitted leather vests that clung to my breasts, waist, and hips, like Kalia wore, inlaid with metals. Even little baubles of silver to adorn my wrists and hair.
Everything together must have cost a small fortune.
And now, I watched Ludayn run her fingers over the clothing that I hadn’t had the heart to touch, much less try on.
“Yes, Gemma?” she asked me again, finally noticing my silence. I’d told her to call me by my name. While she’d agreed, she told me she must call me by my proper title among company and especially in front of Azur.
“Will you do me a favor?” I asked nervously, nibbling on my lip as I debated how to ask her.
Her brow furrowed. She frowned, no doubt catching the grim tone in my voice, and said, “Of course. Whatever you need.”
I took in a deep breath. Ludayn had been kind to me. We’d been spending a lot of time together, ever since I’d come to Krynn. If Kalia and I worked out on the starwood flowers, she would join us. If Kalia needed to go into the village—citing “harvest festival business”—then I would join Maazin in the records room, like I did most late afternoons, and continue on my work. Ludayn would accompany me. She’d even begun helping me sort through some of the older stacks while Maazin raked his hands through his hair and glowered down at his own.
I even considered us friends. Kalia too. Even though she had detested me at first—whether it was because I’d married her brother or because she was merely territorial, I didn’t quite know—I thought she liked me now. While it may have been a superficial kind of friendship—since we studiously avoided discussing Azur, my abrupt marriage to him, and anything having to do with House Kaalium or their family—we still spent hours every day together, ripping out old, dead things from the terrace. It was therapeutic, I thought.
“Will you feed from me?”
The question popped out of my mouth before I thought better of it. I didn’t know how to phrase the question. I figured it was better to just ask.
Ludayn sputtered, her eyes going wide.
“What?” she asked, already shaking her head. “No, Kylaira, your husband would not like that. At all. It’s…it’s…simply not done. Especially since…”
She trailed off, pressing her lips tight.
My stomach sank, but I tried again. “It’s just that…the way it is with him…” I sighed, deep and long, my shoulders sagging. “I just want to know if what I feel with him is normal. I don’t have anything to compare it to, and it’s not like I can ask Kalia. Only you.”