35. Lashing Out*

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Elery woke to a chorus of raindrops against her window and the feeling of a weight settling into the bed. "I asked you to bed elsewhere," she murmured.

"Our generous hosts have refused that privilege," Isandel replied. "They insist that I not remain alone. I'm of the opinion they disapprove of your callousness."

Though she'd yet to open her eyes, she knew he wore a smug grin from the tone of his voice. It was a grin she saw behind her closed lids, burning like fire in the darkness. "It seems to amuse you."

"A great deal. And by your smile, I think you are as well."

Her eyes opened and her lips twitched. She hadn't felt the smile until it faded.

Isandel's weight shifted on the bed and he propped over her. He locked his gaze on hers. His hair tumbled down to form a curtain, shutting the two off from the rest of the world. "Perhaps our Princess is more childish than she portrays herself."

"I simply find their fear of you amusing," she responded, doing nothing to move him. His weight settled more firmly atop her, pressing her into the bed. "You puff yourself up to be something terrifying, yet you are as placid in manner as a lycar pup."

He narrowed his eyes. "You take my civility for granted, Princess." The piercing red of his irises shone despite the lack of light within the thick wall of his hair surrounding her face. "The stories are perhaps exaggerated, but by no means am I docile."

"Docile enough," she said. "Do not forget who has made you to heel on several occasions now."

He growled and bore his teeth.

"Do you think I don't see the frustration in your eyes, dragon? I denied you Jesset and I will do no less with myself. This is the closest you will ever get to me."

"Do not be so certain, Princess," he said as his manner shifted fluidly from angry to coy. "The runic was a passing amusement; you are far more." He leaned close and her arms raised to press between them. He smirked. "You are the only one who has truly denied me. When I break you and finally make you mine, it will be worth much more."

She moved her hands to his shoulders and planted her foot on the bed. With hardly a grunt she rolled him onto his back and slammed his shoulders back into the plush mattress. Straddling his hips, she peered down at him just as he'd done to her. "Even if I were to lower myself to you, I would still remain on top," she said before rolling away to stand beside the bed. "I am in need of new clothing." She looked down at her blood-and-dirt stained tunic and leggings. "Much longer in these and I'll find myself ill."

Isandel sat up. "Upon my return I was asked to deliver a crest to you." He waved his hand to the table beside the door. "A gift from the King. The squire who handed it off said you need only show it in place of fleut."

She picked up the metal crest. It was a floral piece with a winged serpent poised to strike in the center. "Well, come then."

He looked out the window. "It is pouring, Princess. Do you wish to dampen everything you buy?"

"You've a wing, do you not? I'm sure it can be put to use to protect your pact partner from a little rain."

He crossed his arms. "I am not your umbrella."

"I see how eager you are to warm me," she quipped and opened the door. "With or without you, I am going. If you do as I ask, I may just be grateful." She slipped into her boots and walked out, starting to close the door.

"You are a manipulative woman," he said when the door was open but a crack. "It would do me no good to have a sick girl on my hands." He pulled the door open and the brass ring slipped from her hand.

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