So, possibly, maybe, in theory, the King favored her. That didn’t make much sense, but men weren’t required to make sense so the point was moot. What mattered was, what could she do with that new, shocking piece of information?

And there was only one answer to that - Vincent had called it. Might as well admit it, at least to herself - she liked him too, so she had to win the Claiming, or try her damnedest, in any case.

Dragon’s scales, how on Eartia was she supposed to do that, exactly?

Needless to say, she didn’t sleep at all that night; after hours of staying in bed, attempting to doze off, she gave up and just walked out of the room and into the inner gardens, dragging a long shawl over her shoulders. Two minutes out, she regretted her choice, wishing she’d picked her damn comforter instead. The morning breeze was freezing.

“Just so you know, that night dress is practically transparent and I can see your nipples.”

Oh holiest of shits.

She hadn’t noticed him in the dark, but turning her head towards the direction of his voice, she saw his shifter eyes blazing. Rhey was sitting in an alcove, his feet propped up on the wall, a book in hand.

She’d always seen him in grand, official clothing, but now he wore nothing but a plain vest and some brown pants. Probably what he slept in. Was she blushing? Yeah, she was totally blushing.

“Weren’t you the one who said something about resting?”

He smirked, but didn’t call her out on ignoring his first observation.

“I have some… fascinating reading to catch up on.”

“Yeah?”

He beckoned her over, tilting his head, and she tiptoed over, feeling so strange when she got close enough to smell his scent, and hear the beat of his hearts. Two hearts - his and his dragon’s; Demelza had explained that it was the way with shifters. To her, it just sounded like a hectic heart beat that matched her own.

He’d been smarter than her, taking a duvet with him; only it was folded next to a small pile of books.

“Mind if I grab that?” she asked, shyly taking a place on the bench, next to him.

“Shame. I rather like the view,” he teased, taking the cover, and throwing it over her shoulders and down to her feet. As the cover was large enough for both of them, he pulled the other side over his legs.

“Do dragons even get cold?”

“That’s a bloody stupid question. Of course we do - it just doesn’t harm us.”

“You don’t sound very Kingly tonight.”

And she rather liked it; it felt like he was showing her Rhey Vasili, the guy, not the crown.

“Speak to the King from dawn to dusk. Dusk to dawn, you’ll have to deal with me.”

“That’s fair. And what shall I call you, then?”

“Whatever you wish. Now, look at this,” he said, pointing to his book.

It actually was more of a journal, written in a formal and elegant elvish hand. She could read it; her education had seen to that, but she ignored the words, her hand flying to the faded illustration that took over the right page. There was a woman, flying astride a dragon. The dragon wore a saddle, and the woman, gear that Xandrie could see would help make the journey comfortable: long boots, and padding on her inner pants.

“This is perhaps the only record of history we have about your kind.”

“My kind?”

“I’m not the best person to ask - until you came, the Elders kept all knowledge of Dragon Riders to themselves. They’ve only told me about you a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been reading. This,” he said, pointing to the woman, “was my mother.”

She listened to him telling her about long forgotten tales, and at some point, she blinked. When she opened her eyes again, she was on her bed, and not alone.

Xandrie lifted her head from the King’s chest, blushing furiously as she looked up to his sleeping frame. How very scandalous.

“I can feel you looking at me,” he grumbled groggily, making her laugh.

Rhey was so painfully beautiful she couldn’t bring herself to stop, not even when he opened his eyes and stared right back at her.

“How did this happen?”

“Well, I was telling you of fascinating things that bored you to tears, so you collapsed on me. Rather than letting you freeze - as I wasn’t leaving my blanket with you - I thought it wise to take you to your chambers, but when I dropped you on your bed you wouldn’t let go of my chest.”

Ugh. She hid behind her hands. Someone kill her now.

Rhey laughed, and gently pulled her arms away.

“None of that. I like to see your eyes.”

The man did very, very bad things to her poor heart. She wasn’t well practiced in the art of flirting, and he obviously was a master of it.

“I’ll be in trouble if anyone sees us,” she guessed, and the King smiled.

“Not as much as I. I am, after all, the grand prize in a tournament - let’s not forget.”

How could she?

His arm closed over her shoulders, and pulled her back on his chest.

“Dawn will be upon us in a few instants. I’ll be King again. Until then, let us pretend.”

Pretend what? She could have asked, but there was no need. She knew. Vincent had been right, and the King favored her, although he wouldn’t say as much.

Now she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t at least try her best to win that stupid competition.