Page 43 of Blood Singer

I pressed my palms against the cool stone of the vanity and took a steadying breath. My reflection stared back at me. Flushed cheeks, bright eyes, lips I'd bitten one too many times out of nervousness. I looked like a woman about to do something reckless.

The thought should've terrified me. Should've sent me running back to the safety of diplomatic protocols and professional distance. Instead, all I felt was anticipation thrumming through my veins.

A knock at my door made me jump.

When I opened it, Kavan stood in the corridor, and my breath caught.

He wasn't wearing his leathers or the formal clothing I'd seen him in at the reception. Instead, he wore simple dark pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing the corded muscle of his forearms. His long white hair was pulled back in a loose tie at the nape of his neck, and his golden eyes caught the morning light streaming through the windows, making them dance like flames.

He looked less like a king and more like a man.

And he was looking at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"You're beautiful," he said, his voice rough with something that made heat pool low in my belly.

"You're not so bad yourself," I managed, rewarded with a smile that transformed his entire face.

"Are you ready?" he asked, offering his arm.

I took it, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, and tried to ignore the way my pulse was racing. "Where are we going?"

"The village. It's market day." He guided me through the castle corridors. "I thought you might like to see how my people live. Meet some of them."

"That sounds perfect," I said, and meant it.

We descended through the castle, taking a different route than I'd used before. This path led us through smaller corridors and down a winding stone staircase that opened onto a courtyard I hadn't seen yet. The morning sun warmed my face, and I could smell flowers from the gardens mixed with something else. Bread baking, maybe, and the earthy scent of livestock.

"We could fly," Kavan said, glancing at me. "But I thought you might prefer to walk. It's not far, and the path through the forest is beautiful this time of year."

"Walking sounds good," I said, though part of me was disappointed. Flying with him had been incredible, but this felt more intimate somehow. More like a real date.

We left the castle grounds following a well-worn path into the forest. The trees here were different from the purple-leaf trees in the gardens. Tall and ancient, with bark that looked almost black and crimson leaves that rustled with a sound like whispered secrets.

"These are ironwood trees," Kavan said, noticing my interest. "They've been here for thousands of years."

I reached out to touch one as we passed, feeling the rough bark under my fingertips. "They're beautiful."

"They are sacred to my people," he said quietly. "We believe they hold the memories of all the dragons who've ever flown above their branches. When a Drakhoni dies, we plant a new ironwood in their honor."

The weight of that tradition settled over me. I found myself looking at the forest with new eyes. This wasn't just a pretty backdrop. It was a living memorial, a testament to centuries of life and loss.

"How many have you planted?" I asked softly.

His expression darkened as he looked toward a row of saplings. Forty-seven of them, I counted. "Too many."

I squeezed his arm gently, not knowing what to say but wanting him to know I understood. He glanced down at me, and something in his eyes softened.

"But today isn't about the past," he said, his voice lighter. "Today is about showing you my world. The parts of it I love."

He tucked my arm into the crook of his elbow and we continued down the path. After about fifteen minutes, the forest gave way to a small clearing at the edge of the village. My breath caught.

It was like stepping into a storybook.

The village sprawled across a gentle valley, with a clear stream running through its center that caught the sunlight like liquid diamonds. The buildings were a mix of dark timber and warm river stones, with thatched roofs and flower boxes overflowing with blooms in every color imaginable. Smoke rose from chimneys, carrying the scent of wood fires and something savory cooking.

But it was the market square that truly captured my attention.

The square was packed with people. Drakhoni and humans both, weaving between brightly colored stalls that sold everything under the sun. Fabrics in rich jewel tones caught my eye first, then pottery gleaming in the sunlight, then baskets overflowing with fruits and vegetables I didn't recognize. Some stalls displayed jewelry, others leather goods, and one seemed entirely dedicated to different types of bread.