The Dragon Warlord's Silent Bride

DIANA’S POV

Diana did not return Raigoro’s cloak.

She intended to.

That was different.

Vharos slept beyond the two chairs, his breathing finally deep enough that Master Clair had stopped watching every rise of his ribs.

Healer Lou had gone into the adjoining workroom to update the night record. One keeper worked in the recessed medicine alcove beyond the stone partition. Another had taken the outer passage.

Filtered morning light had begun to gray the cavern through the high opening overhead.

Raigoro was still asleep.

Diana had rarely seen him that way, which might have explained why she kept looking.

Exhaustion had left the lines beside his eyes easier to see. His hair had fallen forward near one temple, partly covering an old pale scar, and his mouth seemed less severe without another question waiting behind it.

Usually Raigoro looked at people, reports, maps, even meals as though some part of him were deciding what they meant and whether they required action. Sleep had finally taken the work away from him.

Diana realized how long she had been studying him and turned toward Vharos.

The dragon remained asleep.

No help there.

She touched the cloak around her shoulders. She had meant to return it before Raigoro woke, so she stood and stepped around the small table between their chairs.

He did not move.

Diana reached for the edge of the cloak, then noticed how tired he looked from this distance.

He had spent most of the night beside Vharos before Diana arrived and stayed awake through the worst of the downturn. The scar near his temple disappeared beneath a loose strand of hair.

Diana leaned closer.

Battle had probably given him the scar. Vharos remained another possibility. After hearing enough stories about Raigoro’s childhood, Diana was unwilling to dismiss the blue feeding bucket entirely.

Her hand rose toward the loose strand of hair before she considered what she was doing.

Diana stopped.

Moving his hair served absolutely no purpose.

Her hand remained there anyway.

The problem became obvious with embarrassing simplicity.

Raigoro was handsome.

Portraits did not count. Painters improved royal men for a living, removing scars and correcting whatever reality had failed to arrange attractively.

Raigoro was asleep in a dragon cavern after spending the night afraid for Vharos, with his hair falling where it pleased and exhaustion visible on his face.

Diana still wanted to touch him.

She frowned at him.

Apparently he had found another way to become inconvenient.

His eyes opened.

Diana pulled back.

Her heel came down on the edge of his cloak, trapping the wool beneath her boot. Diana pulled backward at exactly the wrong moment and lost her balance.

Raigoro woke into motion. His arm caught her around the waist before she hit the stone.

Diana reached for his shoulder, remembered the injury, and grabbed the front of his coat instead.

That only pulled her closer.

Her mouth met his.

Neither of them moved.

It lasted only a moment, but long enough for her to feel the warmth of his mouth against hers before she pulled away.

His arm was still around her waist.

Diana stared at him.

Raigoro had received casualty lists, assassination evidence, dragon attacks, and news of a collapsing mine with more preparation than he appeared to possess now.

Diana might have enjoyed that discovery if his arm were not still around her waist and his mouth were not still the last thing she could feel clearly.

Raigoro recovered first.

”Are you hurt?”

Diana stared harder.

Of all the things he could have said.

Her slate was still on the chair.

Raigoro seemed to remember his arm around her waist and released her at once.

Diana stepped back far enough to stand on her own.

There was room to move farther away. She remained where she was and decided sleep could deal with that decision later.

Diana retrieved her slate.

NO.

Raigoro read it.

”Your ankle?”

NO.

”Good.”

Diana waited.

Raigoro appeared satisfied once he knew she had not injured herself, which was an absurdly practical conclusion to the situation.

The man could survive the Ashen boundary, corrupted creatures, battles, and a collapsing mine, but an accidental kiss had left him concerned about her ankle.

Diana lowered her slate before he could see how unreasonable she found this.

Then she wrote:

YOU WOKE UP.

”Yes.”

SUDDENLY.

Raigoro read the word.

”I generally do.”

That was nowhere near the point.

Diana erased it.

Her face was warm.

The cavern was cold enough that this was plainly useless behavior from her body.

She became aware of his mouth again.

Diana turned toward Vharos.

The dragon remained asleep.

Traitor.

When Diana looked back, Raigoro’s attention dropped briefly to her mouth before returning to her eyes.

Diana stopped thinking about Vharos.

The contact between them had happened because she tripped over a cloak.

Raigoro had chosen where to look afterward.

He stayed where he was. His hands remained at his sides, and he gave Diana all the distance she had just taken.

She knew this version of his restraint by now. An accident did not become permission simply because they were married.

Diana was grateful for that.

Gratitude unfortunately did nothing about the fact that she now knew exactly how warm his mouth had felt.

Then Selena’s name returned.

It remained on the covenant, the marriage record, and every formal document Blackharrow possessed about its Grand Duchess.

Raigoro still did not know the name of the woman standing in front of him.

An accidental kiss changed none of that.

Diana pulled the cloak more tightly around herself.

Then realized what she had done.

Excellent.

She had accidentally kissed Raigoro and responded by wrapping herself more securely in his clothing.

Dignity had abandoned the cavern sometime before dawn.

Vharos exhaled heavily in his sleep.

Raigoro turned toward the sound.

Diana used the opportunity to collect her anatomy booklet and observation board.

”Duchess.”

She stopped.

Raigoro glanced at the black wool hanging dangerously close to her boots.

”Watch the cloak.”

Diana gave him a long look.

He wisely said nothing else.

She gathered the cloak higher and turned away.

Healer Lou emerged from the adjoining workroom carrying the updated chart.

”His breathing remains stable.”

Diana nodded too quickly.

Healer Lou either noticed nothing or possessed the professional discipline to ignore it.

Master Clair returned a moment later from the outer cavern passage and began reviewing the morning notes.

The ordinary work resumed with offensive ease.

Vharos had eaten nothing yet. His pain appeared reduced, and there was no new fever. Another examination would wait until he woke.

Master Clair eventually looked toward Diana.

”You may leave.”

Diana nodded.

Raigoro rose. ”I’ll walk you to the upper stair.”

Master Clair had already returned to his notes.

Apparently this required no comment either.

Diana left the cavern with Raigoro beside her.

Neither mentioned the kiss.

At the first landing, Diana became unusually aware of Raigoro walking beside her.

In the beginning she had tracked his position because she needed to know how close he stood, where his hands were, and whether the nearest door remained open.

None of those calculations mattered now. She simply felt his presence beside her with every step.

Diana kept climbing.

At the household crossing, Raigoro stopped.

She stopped too.

Morning light reached farther here, enough to show his face clearly.

That was unhelpful.

Raigoro drew breath to speak.

Diana raised one finger.

He closed his mouth.

Good.

She had no intention of discussing this before breakfast.

After breakfast remained undecided.

Raigoro’s eyes held hers for a moment. Then he inclined his head.

Diana turned toward the stairs.

She reached the next landing before remembering that Raigoro’s cloak was still around her shoulders.

She stopped with one hand on the black wool and looked back.

Raigoro remained below. Returning it would require only a few steps.

Diana considered those steps.

Then she continued upstairs.

She would return the cloak later.