Capture (7 page)

“Your king is waiting, Nykin. You should go.”

Nykin sighed. He didn’t like leaving Fimor with things still feeling off between them, but he couldn’t afford to hang around any longer. “Fimor? Are we—”

“Everything is fine between us.”
He bumped Nykin with the edge of his wings, huffing in what sounded like amusement when it nearly pushed Nykin over again. Nykin smiled grudgingly and turned to leave.

“Nykin?”

“Yes?”

“I think you misunderstood before. Ryneq wasn’t laughing at you. He was laughing at me. I suspect he finds the idea of you and him together far from funny.”

Nykin tripped over a loose rock on the ground, the thought of him and Ryneq together more than enough to affect his balance. He rolled his eyes as Fimor’s laughter followed him into the tunnels
.

R
YNEQ
STALKED
through the tunnels, muttering under his breath about infuriating dragons and their riders. The morning had not gone exactly as he’d planned, and he needed to get himself back under control. When he’d brought the elves up to the Eyrie, he’d expected Nykin and Fimor to give them a quick flying demonstration and nothing more.

But he’d forgotten about how inquisitive elves were. Of course they’d want to know everything about the bond between dragon and rider and would want to feel it for themselves. He’d also forgotten about Faelon. Ryneq had met Faelon once before, when the treaty was originally proposed. His magic had a tendency to reach out and pull you in, wrapping you up in the soft, warm feel of it.

Ryneq had managed to resist it easily. He’d known what it was the first time he’d felt it, and ignored it. But when Faelon had wrapped his long fingers around Nykin’s wrist, Ryneq had seen the look on Nykin’s face and the way he’d swayed toward Faelon. It hadn’t lasted long, and Nykin appeared to have learned some resistance to it, but it had still made Ryneq want to haul Faelon away from him. It still made him angry now, when he thought about it. Nykin was slowly creeping under his defenses—with his open, trusting nature and propensity for blushing—and Ryneq didn’t know what to do about that.

“Your Majesty.”

Ryneq pulled up short as he neared the entrance to the Eyrie, surprised to be addressed. He looked up to see Faelon leaning against the wall, waiting for him.

“Faelon?” Ryneq raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what he could possibly want. Ryneq assumed they’d all be waiting out by the palace gates by now. Clearly he was wrong. “What do you want?”

Faelon stood and inclined his head in a show of respect. “I’d like to apologize, Sire.”

“For?” Ryneq walked over and stopped in front of him.

“For my behavior during Nykin’s demonstration.” He swallowed and held out his hands. “It appears my behavior was… inappropriate, regarding your dragon rider.” Ryneq stiffened at the barest hint of a smile around Faelon’s lips. Elves never could apologize sincerely, in his experience. “My magic gets away from me sometimes.” He shrugged, like the whole thing was really no big deal and the whole apology wasn’t really his idea. Which it probably wasn’t. “I didn’t know he was yours. I meant nothing by it.”

Ryneq stared at him, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He really didn’t know which part of that to address first. “I’m not sure Avelor saw it that way.” Ryneq had witnessed their heated argument, and he was perversely satisfied that Faelon at least had the decency to look guilty at the mention of his lover. “We should go. Cerylea and Morkryn will be done by now.”

Ryneq turned on his heel and headed toward the Eyrie steps, then paused at the top to look back over at Faelon. “And Nykin is not mine.”

“Are you sure about that?” Faelon replied, a sly smile on his lips.

Ryneq spun back around and marched down the steps to the palace, studiously ignoring the small part of him that found that idea appealing.

B
Y
THE
time Nykin joined them, the elves were all ready to go. They would be escorted back to Hervath by Ryneq and his men. The dragon riders would also patrol from above, but Nykin wouldn’t take part this time since he and Fimor had already ridden this morning.

“Nykin.” Prince Morkryn smiled as he walked over. “Thank you for your time and patience this morning and yesterday. It’s been a pleasure to learn from you and Fimor. We hope to do more of it in the future.”

Ryneq watched the slight hint of color appear in Nykin’s cheeks at the compliment. He wanted to lift Nykin’s chin back up when he looked down at his feet.

“Yes, of course,” Nykin answered with a quick look over at Ryneq. “I’ll look forward to it,” he added when Ryneq nodded over at him.

Morkryn turned to whisper something to Faelon before addressing Ryneq this time. “With your permission, King Ryneq, we have a small gift for Nykin.” Ryneq watched Faelon walk back from his horse with a small box in his hand. “It is our hope that Nykin will come visit us in Hervath, so some of our elders may see his magic for themselves.”

Ryneq hesitated. The dragon riders rarely left Torsere, unless it was astride their dragons. To go to Hervath, Nykin would need to leave Fimor behind, and he would be vulnerable to attack. The armies of Rodeth and Athisi would do anything to get their hands on a dragon rider, and Ryneq was not prepared to risk it—especially if the rider was Nykin.

Morkryn reached out to take the box from Faelon. “We understand the risk with such a request, but he would be well protected at all times.” He opened the box and took out a plain leather cuff. “But just in case the worst should happen, we made this for him.”

Ryneq took it from Morkryn’s outstretched hand and turned it over in his fingers. “What is it?”

“It’s enchanted to hide Nykin’s mark.” Morkryn glanced over at Nykin, who was watching them both with wide eyes. “If I may?” He looked back at Ryneq for permission and then proceeded to clasp the cuff around Nykin’s outstretched wrist.

The cuff itself didn’t cover the entire mark, but when the clasp was shut, the cuff glowed for a moment, a soft purple light shimmering around the edges, and then Nykin’s wrist was as unmarked as the rest of him.

Nykin gasped, and Ryneq couldn’t stop himself from stepping closer and taking hold of Nykin’s hand. He turned it a little, inspecting the skin behind the cuff, but no trace of the mark remained, and Nykin’s skin was smooth under Ryneq’s fingers. He wanted to stroke them farther up Nykin’s arm, wanted to trace his thumb along the thick veins and feel the blood rushing through them.

He forced himself to let go and move back a little. “What happens if it gets removed?” If Nykin was taken—and the thought made Ryneq’s teeth grind—then Ryneq doubted very much he’d be allowed to keep anything, and then his secret would be revealed.

Morkryn smiled as he unclasped the cuff, revealing smooth, unmarked skin. “Once the cuff has been worn and activated, the magic remains until removed by an elf. Watch….” He took Nykin’s hand and wrapped his long fingers around his wrist, whispering words in Elvish until the purple glow appeared again. “See?”

When Morkryn removed his hand, the mark was back, and Ryneq breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t like the thought of Nykin without it.

“The choice is yours, Nykin.” Ryneq was not at all thrilled with the idea of Nykin spending time in Hervath—with all those elves—but if he wanted to go, Ryneq wouldn’t stop him. As long as he was safe. “But feel free to refuse.” Ryneq cast a glance over at Morkryn as if daring him to comment, but he remained silent. Waiting. “This was not part of the treaty.”

Nykin stared at the cuff in Morkryn’s hands for a few moments and bit his lip. When he looked up at the elves, a small smile on his face, Ryneq knew what he’d decided and resolutely pushed away the disappointment that settled in his belly.

“Yes. I’d like to go to Hervath, Sire.” Nykin’s smile was bright and open as he turned to face Ryneq. “With your permission?”

Nykin looked so young and full of nervous excitement, and Ryneq was lost in his smile for just a moment before he remembered where they were and nodded curtly. “Of course, Nykin. I’ll make the arrangements with Prince Morkryn for you to visit sometime after the wedding.” Nykin’s smile faltered a little, and Ryneq just wanted to get out of there before he did something stupid. He sighed and shook his head. “We need to leave, Morkryn.” He gestured to the horses, ready and waiting behind them. “We have a lot of riding to do before it gets dark.” Ryneq resisted looking at Nykin again as Nykin left to go back to the Eyrie.

“Are you sure we can’t persuade you to come back with us, Princess?” Morkryn took her hand and brought it to his lips.

“Thank you for the offer, but I have unfinished business to attend to in Torsere. Besides,” she said, glancing over at Ryneq, “I would like my brother to escort me.”

Ryneq smiled at his sister before pulling her close and kissing her forehead. “We’ll be back soon.” He mounted his horse, then led the way out of the palace courtyard as soon as the elves were ready to depart.

W
HEN
R
YNEQ
and his men returned to Torsere two days later, everyone was tired and hungry. The sun had almost set, and Cerylea was waiting for him when he finally entered the palace.

“Ryneq, will you join me for dinner?” She walked up and kissed him on the cheek, seeming to ignore the sweat and smell of horses that Ryneq knew must be all over him. “I asked the kitchen to serve it late.”

He swept a hand over the front of his uniform. “I’m a mess, Cerylea. I should really go and change first.”

She just grinned and waved away his protests. “I’m hungry, and I don’t mind the smell of horses.” She linked her arm through his and pulled him toward the dining room. “Besides, we have things to discuss.”

Once inside, he sat down at the head of the table with Cerylea taking her place on his left. It still felt odd with just the two of them, even after two years, but Ryneq shook it off and focused on his sister. “What things, exactly?” Ryneq poured them each a glass of wine and relaxed back in his chair, sighing as his aching muscles finally began to unwind.

“Well, there’s the wedding for one thing, but first I’d like to talk about Nykin.”

Ryneq almost choked on his wine. “What about him?” He put his glass back on the table and looked closely at his sister. She didn’t usually interfere in his affairs like this, and he wasn’t really in the mood for her to start now.

“Are you happy with him going to Hervath?”

Ryneq sighed and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. He didn’t really want to be reminded of his agreement with Morkryn. They’d finally decided that Nykin would travel to Hervath one month and one week from today. The wedding ceremony would be performed in three weeks’ time, so it would give things time to settle down. It also meant that Cerylea would still be in Alel. “It’s not ideal,” he finally replied. “But if Nykin wants to go, then I see no reason to prevent it. At the very least it will show our willingness to trust them.”

Cerylea huffed and rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant, Ryneq.” She rested her elbows on the table and glared at him. “Nykin is a handsome young dragon rider, and he’s going to go stay in Hervath, with the elves, and you know how they feel about riders.” She paused, presumably to let her words sink in.

“What do you want me to say?” He shot up out of his chair, sending it skidding across the floor, and stalked over to the fire. “No. I don’t want him anywhere near Hervath. Yes, I know what will happen if he goes there, and if I had my way, he’d never leave the palace!”

Cerylea gently pushed herself away from the table and walked over to stand beside him. “He likes you, Ryneq.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “You should tell him you’re interested.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Cerylea pulled on his arm until he was forced to look at her. “It’s not like you need to produce an heir. I’ll take care of that. I’ve heard that elves are very virile.” She laughed when Ryneq scowled, but he really didn’t need to have that image in his head. “But seriously, Ryneq. Why won’t you even talk to him?”

“Because….” Because Nykin was a dragon rider, because he was young and reckless and enough of a target for Torsere’s enemies as it was, without being the king’s consort too. And because Nykin didn’t seem the type for a one-time-only thing, and Ryneq wasn’t looking for anything else. “I’m not interested in him like that. I just don’t want him to get captured by our enemies, that’s all.”