Firedrake - By Bianca D'Arc Page 0,29

finished sipping and gathered their attention. It was a heady feeling. They’d never paid such attention to him as a youngster, but he’d grown up and learned many things in his travels. How to play to a crowd was second nature to an accomplished Jinn troubadour such as himself.

“And to you all. The Mother of All knows you deserve special commendations for putting up with me as a teen.” He shook his head ruefully. “I never expected to be welcomed back this way and I’m both humbled and grateful.”

Drake drank deeply of the sweet wine, shocked to see tears gathered in not only his mother’s eyes, but Ren’s as well. Even Declan had a suspicious sparkle in his blue eyes, but Drake pretended not to notice the emotional response his words had conjured.

The rest of the meal passed with considerably less tension, and Drake found himself enjoying the quiet meal with his family a lot more than he’d expected. So much had changed while he’d been away, yet much had stayed the same.

Drake bounded out of bed the next morning, feeling better than he had for a very long time. It was barely dawn when he ambled down the High Road in Castleton toward a quaint inn owned by the Pritchards. He remembered it from when he was a boy. They were famous for their confections, and he was looking forward to learning if they still made the best sweet breakfast buns he’d ever tasted.

He entered the common room and spotted Krysta. She wore her gray Guard uniform, but her hair sparkled in the rising sun and her creamy complexion beckoned him to lick her skin, just to see if she tasted as good as she looked.

But that would come later.

For now, breakfast was the order of the day. Charming this special woman, the task at hand.

“Good morning, Krysta.” His voice was his sharpest weapon, honed over years on the bardic road. He knew he could make a woman shiver with just the right inflection, and it seemed Krysta was not immune. He saw her shoulders shimmy as his voice rolled over her and smiled in satisfaction.

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

“When I make a promise, I keep it.” He sat at the small table, brushing his knees against hers.

“I’ll remember that.” She sipped at her steaming cup of tea, her gray eyes watching him through the mist.

The serving girl came over to them and Drake smiled at the youngster, placing his order. He learned that she was the youngest daughter of the house, and that her name was Mary Pritchard. By the time she left the table, she was grinning and promising to give his compliments to her father and mother.

“You certainly have a way with the ladies. Even the young ones.”

Drake winked. “I used to charm honey buns from Mrs. Pritchard when I was a boy. She makes the best pastries I have ever tasted anywhere in all the lands.”

“I know.” Krysta looked a wee bit guilty. “I have a sweet tooth myself.”

“Ah…” Drake sat back in his chair, watching her. “So that’s why you chose Pritchard’s.”

“I confess I have a weakness for Mrs. Pritchard’s baking. Much to my chagrin. Eating here the past few months, I’ve gained at least five pounds, so I try to limit it to once a week.”

Drake inspected her ultra-feminine form. “Well, I certainly can’t tell.” His gaze shifted to her lovely gray eyes. “I like a woman with curves.”

She laughed outright, charming him with her open response. “You are such a rogue.” She didn’t flirt like the other women he’d known. She meant every word, and not in a teasing way. Drake sat up, eager to disprove his reputation for some reason, though he’d never felt the need to defend himself before.

“I’ve been many places and seen many things. I’ve done a lot I would never relate to my mother” he paused to chuckle, “but I’ve never played a woman false. I’m not quite a rogue, though I admit, I’m probably very close.”

“Well at least you’re honest.” She leaned back, regarding him. “I like that about you.”

“Honest and true to my word.” His eyes lit with a playful twinkle as he nodded. “You’ve learned that much about me already. What will you do when you discover I’m loyal, faithful and steadfast, I wonder?”

“Pat you on the head and toss a stick for you to fetch?”

He burst out laughing. “I’m not a dog, but around you I definitely feel frisky as a puppy.”