Page 131 of Realm of Dreams & Shadows

In other words, I have no excuses, something he apparently realizes since he meets my eyes, grins, then starts walking, clearly expecting me to follow.

“I hate being predictable,” I mutter, catching up to him.

His grin is wry. “You never are.”

I don’t ask where he’s going, mostly because I know he wants me to, and I relish my small defiance.

He moves without hurry, and when he passes a torch, the flame leans toward him, the castle responding in a way I find both eerie and fascinating.

A smile dances on his lips. “The house will know its mistress soon,” he says, and once again I wonder if mind-reading is one of his superpowers.

After a few twists and turns, we reach a staircase that spirals just enough to be dizzying. I make a point not to look down, instead keeping my eyes on his shadow coat, billowing softly as we descend.

“Tell me where we’re going.”

He looks at me over his shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

“Not at all.”

He chuckles. “My love, I don’t know if you are telling the truth or lying.”

“Honestly,” I tell him, “I don’t know, either.”

He meets my eyes, and that’s when it happens. That’s the moment this feels real.

I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad one.

“Our destination is a surprise,” he says. “Try to trust me at least a little.”

I don’t answer, I just hurry to keep up with him. Finally, we stop before an ornate door covered with carved dragons. But though I see hinges, there is no latch. Adric rests his palm on the largest carving, and the door swings open to reveal a long, covered archway. “Come,” he says, taking my hand as we cross the threshold, then move down the dimly lit path, the illumination for which seems to come from the stone itself.

The far end of this covered path is shrouded in a thick darkness, so I have no clue as to our destination. But I can see that on one side, the archway opens to the night and an expanse of pale stone that extends out like a cliff’s edge. I can’t see what lies below—the moat, perhaps—but there is enough light from the five moons to illuminate the desert that glows all around us, both beautiful, and—as I have learned only too well—deadly. I blink back tears as I think of Whistler, but despite my sadness, I can’t deny the allure of this place.

I’m about to ask Adric where we are when a shadow straight ahead resolves into a shape that slowly emerges from the dark. A coil of tail. A ridge of folded leather the size of a sail. An eye of silver looking right at me.

For a moment, I forget how to breathe. Then the stunning black dragon exhales, and heat rolls across the terrace like the draft from a furnace.

“Her name is Leth,” Adric says, and the dragon’s ear flicks as if in recognition. “Tonight, you will ride her.”

I think of Soren. He’s lost one dragon already, and yet he’s trusting me with this one. And, yeah, maybe I’m just feeling overly emotional with everything going on, but his trust tonight means the world to me.

“I—” My voice fails. I laugh then, not because anything is funny but because I’m so full of awe, I think I’ll explode if I don’t bleed some of this out somehow. And because despite all the loss—his, mine, ours—there’s still beauty and wonder.

He moves closer, then trails a finger over the sleeve of my robe. “We’ll have to do something about this.”

I stiffen, expecting him to dissolve the robe right then, or at least untie it and let it drop, leaving me naked in front of him. Instead, he presses his palm to my chest, his hand lightly brushing my breasts.

I gasp, both from his touch and from the heat beginning to bloom against my skin, as if he’s going to burn away my clothes.

“Adric, no.”

“Trust me, my Bride,” he murmurs as the fabric thins and shifts, turning slicker and lighter, the weight settling differently against my shoulders and hips. He draws his hand down, and my breath stutters as his touch lingers. His knuckles brush the underside of my breast for a ghost of a second, and I have to force myself not to beg for more. And when he breaks contact and steps back, I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved.

“Look,” he says, the heat in his eyes suggesting he knows exactly where my mind has gone.

I shake myself back to reality—then gasp when I glance down, because the robe is no longer a robe.

Instead, the garment clinging to me has become a dress the color of midnight with threads that catch moonlight when I move. It’s cut to fall from my shoulders and skim the line of my body, split high enough on one thigh so my leg will be free. And the bodice fits like it tailored just for me. I guess in a way it was.