"Rez" He looked full at me, set his cup upon the table. "There are no other females. You're the only one."
"What, never?" I demanded, skeptical.
That pinch returned to his lips, just a shade. "Perhaps notnever . I am a male, and I have been alone for a very long while, and for all those years I did fear you an illusion, so I hope you might forgive me that much. But as far as I'm concerned right now, there has only been one female I've ever truly noticed, and who has ever truly noticed me. Only one. And she's the only one I'll ever notice again."
I regarded him silently. One of the chickens made it as far as the stoop behind him, released a piercing bwaak! at us before dashing back inside.
"Will you marry me?" Sandu asked.
"No."
He picked up his chocolate again, unperturbed, his gaze drifting back to those distant blue mountains.
They traveled mostly at night, although as they soared closer and closer to home, he began to feel more comfortable remaining aloft during the early daylight hours. He made certain they kept high enough to remain a mirage if viewed from below; a part of him worried over it, chewing over the fact of their altitude again and again like a dog over a shabby bone. Logically Alexandru understood that it would hardly matter if she fell a hundred feet or a thousand feet; neither distance would mean a pleasant ending.
But the less logical side of him—this new and unknown side, which seemed rooted in nameless, churning emotions—thought Stay low, lower, she'll be safer that way.
He'd lost count of how many times he'd twisted his head back to look at her, using his eyes to convince his mind that the insignificant weight upon his back was still there. She'd be sitting upright above his wings or else leaning forward on her elbows, her cheeks and nose pink with wind, her hands tight in his mane. He always found her hair first, that flip of coppery flame snapping out behind them like a bright pennant he'd won and was carrying home.
She'd wanted to hold the luggage, which was preposterous. It was fine in his claws; he was accustomed to transporting things in such a way. He needed nothing to distract Rez from her primary job: remaining on top of him.
He'd warned her before they'd begun that if he ever discovered her with her eyes closed, he'd land at once, city or countryside be damned, and he was sincere. Once, as they were following the lustrous polished line of the Danube, he'd turned his head and discovered her face to his neck with one eye closed and the other one open, the wind whipping her hair back and forth around her teasing smile.
Sandu found himself becharmed. Not merely charmed, because she wasn't merely charming. Becharmed, bespelled, whatever word might best suit this unexpected mixture of feelings that swept through him in a combination of tenderness and amusement and ferocious protectiveness. The closest sensation akin to it was how he felt about his position, his place as leader, but even that was born more of war and determination than love.
Miles above the earth, with the music of the wind and stars combing through his whiskers, he'd mull on that.
Love.
At times the clouds would engulf them in their acres of blue-cooled mist, and then, when looking back would make no difference because he wouldn't see her anyway, Alexandru concentrated on feeling her. Feeling her heat, and the pressure of her legs, and the small tuggings that came and went through her fists.
He couldn't do it for very long. The heat of her would translate almost instantly into darker, deeper thoughts of her body, and of beds and pillows and being hot inside her.
Never before had he known the peculiar discomfort of flying aroused. Sandu tried to avoid the cloud banks when he could.
In their hotel room in Obuda, he'd come upon her in her boudoir without knocking, some thought at the edge of his tongue, something about the distance left to travel, not far now, and how to count the miles by the lakes below.
But she didn't notice his entry. She was standing before the cheval mirror placed in the corner, dressed in her chemise and stockings and nothing else. The chemise was white, with ribbons of cherry-red threaded through the neckline and sleeves, woven in a pretty pattern around the hem. The drawstring neckline was loosened, and two long strips of satin floated against her arms as she regarded her own reflection, pensive, both palms spread flat over her abdomen. Late autumn light filtered through the organza curtains behind her and lit every inch of her to a peachy glow.
The hotel was named the King's View, and Prince Alexandru was not unknown here. Composed of creamy brick and marble and overlooking the great river itself, it was the preferred lodging of traveling diplomats and aristocrats or anyone aspiring to either. The senior footman had recognized him as they'd ascended the front steps, and by the time they'd reached the threshold of the main doors the manager himself was there, bowing low with effusive greetings, accepting the coat and stick and hat Sandu had only just donned twenty minutes before.
"Merci,"Sandu had said, and then drew Rez gently forward. "Ma femme, la princesse."
The manager transferred his attentions instantly,how delightful, he had not realized, Her Grace honored them, champagne of course, and fresh flowers, the bridal suite was regretfully booked but the king's own rooms were free...
During all this Rez only inclined her head with just the right degree of imperial condescension—did she speak French? he'd never even thought to ask—but Sandu thought he'd felt a stiffening in her posture, barely there.
He might have only imagined it. Looking at her now, so slim and girlish, with her hair curling wild down her back and her fingers pushed apart, she looked more elfin than dragon, a sprite wandered into the elaborately embellished royal suite of the best hotel in Hungary.
"Princesse,"he said softly, from his place in the doorway.
She looked up at once, dropping her hands. Their eyes met through the mirror glass. "I hope you didn't mind," he said. "As one day, it will be true." "One day," she agreed, and added, "I suppose I never thought of it before. The title." "It can be a surprising thing," he conceded, feeling the smile that wanted to come.
Her gaze lowered to take in that promised smile; her own began to rise in answer. "Will I get a crown?"
"Holly," he reminded her.
"I like holly."
"Good thing. I fear there's not enough gold left in any of the mines for the other sort."
"But there are diamonds in the walls, and emeralds around your hearth. Those will do. Your castle twinkles with song."
He pushed off the doorway, giving a bow of acknowledgment. "I'm glad you like it."
Rez laughed. "It is noisy." "We'll drown it out."
"How?"
"By making our own music, of course."
Her brows knit; the peached light shimmered through her shift as she turned to face him. "Oh, that was truly dreadful."
"My apologies. English is not my best language."
"Alexandru," she said, meeting him in the middle of the room, her fingers on his, her eyes deep as oceans, "that would have been dreadful in any language."
"I love you," he said, and in the sudden silence of the splendid chamber heard his own heartbeat, thudding hard.
"It's soon, I know," he said.
The windows had been left open a little. The organza puffed and fell like living breath, and beyond them a bell from a ferry on the river was clanging in clear, insistent tenor. The swell of air stirred her hair, lifted his own from his shoulders.
He pushed it back with one hand. "And perhaps you don't feel the same about me. Not yet. That's fine. But I wanted you to know."