Free Dragons Realm by Tessa Dawn

it was the first time she had ever seen him smile.
    Well, al­most smile.
    Dante lowered his voice and snickered. “The child’s name was Raylea Louvet, and she made the doll for her sis­ter.”
    Mina con­tin­ued to stare at the fig­ur­ine, try­ing to make sense of Dante’s words, and then all at once it hit her, and her hands flew up to her cheeks. “Raylea! Raylea made this for me ?” Tears of joy spilled from her eyes, and she reached out to snatch the toy from his hands. She stud­ied it me­tic­u­lously, com­mit­ting every de­tail to memory, won­der­ing at the ex­quis­ite crafts­man­ship of her baby sis­ter . Okay, so the eyes were a bit crooked, it was pi­ti­fully un­der-stuffed, and the fea­tures were a bit lop­sided; still, it was the most beau­ti­ful thing Mina had ever seen, and she fought not to break down and sob.
    Rub­bing the belly of the doll against her cheek, she looked up at Dante through tear-stained lashes and genu­inely smiled in re­turn. “Thank you. Oh, thank you .” She didn’t know what else to say.
    Dante seemed some­what taken aback by her emo­tion: His brow fur­rowed; his ex­pres­sion grew un­read­able; and he cocked his head to the side. “You’re wel­come.” His voice was even and con­trolled.
    Mina struggled to com­pose her­self as well. “It’s just…it’s just…I lost my sis­ter to the Realm six years ago, when I was taken to the Keep. She was only four years old, and she lost me, too. I haven’t seen her in so many years.”
    Dante nod­ded then, look­ing curi­ously out of place, and she felt in­stantly em­bar­rassed, not be­cause she had thanked him and not be­cause she had smiled, but be­cause she had shared some­thing so per­sonal and in­tim­ate with a dragon.
    He took a deep breath and slowly ex­haled. “We have all made many sac­ri­fices for the Realm, Mina. For you, it was your lovely sis­ter and your par­ents. For me, it was the free­dom of choice and my brother, my twin , who died by his own hand. Per­haps you can take com­fort in know­ing that you may at least see your loved one again.”
    Mina in­haled sharply, sur­prised by his words. She dropped her arm to her side, let­ting the doll hang loosely in her hand. She knew of Des­mond’s sui­cide—of course she knew—they had all learned the Drago­nas’ his­tory at the Keep, but it had never oc­curred to her, at least not be­fore this mo­ment, that these weren’t just facts and his­tor­ies. They weren’t just de­tails to be mem­or­ized or les­sons to be learned: They were real-life events.
    Ac­com­pan­ied by real loss and pain.
    “Oh gods, Dante. I’m sorry. How in­sens­it­ive I must seem.” She un­wit­tingly took a step for­ward, reached up to touch his face, and cringed when he jerked away.
    “Your com­pas­sion is not ne­ces­sary.”
    She with­drew her hand as if she had been burned, feel­ing even worse than be­fore. “Apo­lo­gies. I…I…”
    “I did not give you the doll to court you, Mina,” he ad­ded coolly.
    She nod­ded then. “I see.”
    “You are my Sk­la­vos Ahavi. Mine .” He reached out, took her hand in his, and placed it against his cheek. “I gave it to you be­cause a brave child asked me to, and I knew that it would bring you com­fort. That is all.”
    She bristled, feel­ing ter­ribly con­fused. “So why would you want to bring me com­fort then, mi­lord ?”
    He tilted his head to the other side as if deeply con­sid­er­ing her words. “We are so of­ten com­pelled to do what we must to ful­fill our du­ties to the Realm. It is a small thing to make life easier for a loyal ser­vant.”
    A loyal ser­vant .
    Dante’s words struck her like the tip of an ar­row pier­cing through her heart, al­though she had no idea why. “Of course,” she whispered. Turn­ing her gaze to her hand, which was still be­ing pressed to his cheek, she mur­mured, “May I re­move my hand,