Free Shadow Dragon by Marc Secchia Page A

but she did not add this thought for fear of angering him. Could she not just tell him how much that trait demeaned and exasperated her, she wondered? Why tread on eggshells with this man?
    His deep chuckle made her bones tingle. “Yoli? What’s that, a nickname?”
    “It’s the intimate–”
    “Another Immadian thing? Great Islands, this cross-cultural relationship really is about rearranging matters inside my skull.”
    Aranya tilted her head to kiss his fingers. “That’s nice. Don’t stop.”
    “So, what do I call you? Ari?”
    “Aranyi, if you’d like.”
    His fingers rested on the pulse in her neck. “Well, Aranyi, when will we move beyond just kissing?”
    “When–I mean, if–we marry. You did carry me over a threshold once, if you recall.”
    Moons and stars, was Yolathion about to discuss the future with her? Her heart turned cartwheels at the thought. She had so longed for this conversation!
    “Thou art beautiful.” He tugged the seam of her headscarf. Aranya shivered, her inner fires stirring like the ever-restless tides agitating the Cloudlands. Her heart galloped up into her throat, and the heat between them grew sweetly intense. Oh, Dragon fires and volcanoes! Was this the moment? What would he say?
    He said, “Incomparable Immadia, doth thy heart not move with mine, through the stars and into eternity?”
    Although, the Jeradian way of breaking into ancient speech patterns in order to express deep emotion, while it made her want to giggle, was also rather endearing. “It–ah, doth. So to speak.” She sighed, “I mean, our hearts do sing together, thou fierce rajal of a man.”
    He said, “I yearn for more than just thy kisses.”
    “Don’t.” She caught his hands before they moved too far. “Yolathion! I … it’s not proper.”
    Now who was the prize prude? Panicked, Aranya reached out with her magic to snuff out a fire-whirlwind which had sprung to life next to the crysglass window.
    “Not proper?” he laughed, but there was an uneasy edge beneath his manner. “We are a couple, aye? You are beautiful, and I desire you. Why does this affront you? Unless I am sorely mistaken–and I’m not without experience–you desire me equally.”
    “You’re experienced?”
    “You’re not?” His echo stabbed her heart sorely. Mocking, it opened a rift between them she had never imagined existed. Tears pricked her eyes, unshed. “You swept my heart away over the Cloudlands, Aranya. Don’t tell me you didn’t know exactly what you were doing when you first smiled at me, that day in the Tower of Sylakia. It was seduction.”
    She choked out, “You’ve b-been with other g-girls?”
    The tall Jeradian laughed curtly, walking to the forward crysglass window as though he wished to walk into the stars outside. He whirled on his heel, his dark eyes flashing. “Why does your judgement sting my ears, Immadia?”
    “It isn’t judge–” Foolish, Aranya! The knowing curve of his lips destroyed her confidence. It made her recall, incongruously, the warning implicit in the Black Dragon’s belling in her dreams. She thrust Fra’anior out of her head, fighting to find the calm, reasonable words she needed.
    She said, “In Immadia, we wait until we’re married.”
    “What does marriage matter?” he cut in. “You take your Northern customs so seriously. It’s not the Jeradian way. We have consorts. A relationship for a season. If the relationship does not work, either the woman or the man is free to move on. If there is desire, then there is no impediment.”
    “What about commitment? Love? Faithfulness?”
    “Of course.” He spread his hands, gazing earnestly at her. “I love you, Aranya. I’d be faithful.”
    For how long? The emptiness in her heart made her inward scream echo in a space which had never seemed colder or darker. How long before Yolathion decided to move on, because Immadians took marriage promises ‘seriously’ and Jeradians did not? He did not even define