To Tame a Dragon - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,37
we thank you for your mercy.
He was not sure how long he stood unmoving at the edge of the river, staring at her. It could not have been overly long—she finished washing herself as the words to her song ended, switching to a gentle humming in the same tune as she sank back up to her shoulders in the water.
What was missing from their mating bond? Familiarity? They knew nothing of one another, hadn’t even known each other’s names until they’d rutted a few times.
Because dragons do not concern themselves with the fleeting lives of mortals.
But that notion no longer held up, did it? Falthyris himself was mortal now; the remainder of his life would be as ephemeral as that of any human. And Elliya was his mate, they were bound together forever. He wanted to know more about her. She’d awoken a curiosity in him that had not held sway for many centuries, a hunger for learning that had long lain dormant.
The only way to learn about her was to talk to her—or, more importantly, to listen to her.
He could almost feel her melodic humming flowing over his scales and easing into them, a far more pleasant invasion than that of the Red Heat. Falthyris sat on the riverbank, shifting his tail and wings to find as much comfort as he could.
Elliya finally stood upright and turned toward him. Her long, dark hair fell across her chest, covering her chest mounds, and water streamed down her skin in rivulets.
She stilled and quirked an eyebrow as her gaze fell upon him, ceasing her song. “I was not aware I had so eager an audience.”
Though part of Falthyris longed to see more of her, longed to stride over to her and rut her right there in the river—though part of him burned for it—he held himself in place. These moments of lucidity would become rarer as the comet continued toward its apex, and he’d do best not to waste their potential.
“Who is Cetolea?” he asked.
Elliya walked a few steps closer, stopping when the water was at mid-thigh. She skimmed her fingertips over the surface. “Cetolea is the sacred pool in my village. Our people have drawn water from her for generations, and she has kept us safe and strong. She is the life-giver.”
Scathing remarks blazed to the surface of his mind, but he held them in; ridiculing his human for her beliefs would only start another fight and widen the rift between them. And as much as it pained him to admit it, even to himself, he was in no position to cast judgment upon her—he’d harbored an adversarial relationship with a comet for centuries.
Falthyris drew his wings in a little tighter. “Life giver, or life sustainer?”
“Both. All waters flow from her.”
“Even the sea?”
Elliya tilted her head. “The sea?”
“Yes. The massive body of water you will see if you travel toward the sunrise until you reach the end of the land, or over the mountains toward the sunset. It is salty, unsafe to drink, and continues on as far as the eye can see.”
“Ah. The Endless Blue. We have heard stories from neighboring tribes of the vicious creatures lurking in its depths and the violent storms that churn its waters. The Endless Blue tries to appear the same as Cetolea to lure in the unsuspecting, but it is her opposite. It is death.”
Lifting a hand, Falthyris rubbed his cheek. Perspective…this was all simply a matter of perspective. He simply needed to better understand hers. “What is the farthest you have ever travelled from your home, Elliya?”
She raised her arms to either side and gestured vaguely at their surroundings. “Here.”
“These mountains, this desert, are but one piece of the world. The Endless Blue is not death any more than the Forsaken Sands are death, nor any more so than this river.” He rose from his place and stepped forward, relishing the cool water over his scales as it chased away a little of the Heat. “The piece of this world you have seen is like a single grain of sand out of the entirety of the desert, and the knowledge your people retain is but a single splinter from a once mighty tree.”
Elliya frowned. “And what have you seen?”
He stopped in front of her and curled his hands into loose fists, suppressing the urge to reach for her as he contemplated that question. He’d not expected the sorrow and regret it roused within him.
“Not nearly enough,” he said. “But I have seen