The memory clung to her like a persistent shadow, a phantom limb aching with a pleasure she was loath to admit. The echoes of their mingled cries, the visceral rhythm of their bodies colliding, the feel of his skin against hers – all lingered with a stubborn tenacity. And most disturbingly, the sensation of the leather belt biting into her wrists, a symbol of her delicious surrender, haunted her waking thoughts.
What troubled her most was the stark absence of Fothergill from her mind during their coupling. He had been a distant figure, as far removed from her consciousness as he was geographically. Not once had she conjured his image, his touch.
And this had transpired only the night before.
Even as her maidservant entered the bedchamber and flung open the heavy velvet curtains, allowing the bright morning sun to flood the room, the memory persisted, a dull throb beneath the surface of her awareness, much like a lingering headache after too much wine.
She tugged her black velvet cloak around her shoulders, a shield against the lingering sensations, and made her way out of the room.
As she took a solitary breakfast in the vast, echoing dining hall, its imposing walls adorned with stern portraits, she overheard the hushed whispers of the maids. General Grant had apparently taken flight from the city and would not return until the stroke of midnight.
A wave of relief washed over her. At least the general was a man of affairs. Perhaps she could avoid him, postpone the inevitable confrontation with the unsettling emotions he had stirred within her, until she could bury them deep.
Lust, Esther had suggested. A base, physical craving that had no bearing on the deep-seated loathing she felt for the man. She clung to that explanation, a fragile raft in a sea of confusing sensations.
Though barely a day and a half had passed since her arrival, the reality of life amongst the Dragon Riders felt an insurmountable chasm away from the familiar dust and shadows of Ghost Town. Their world was a mirror image, inverted and unsettling. Where she had known weathered wood and sun-baked earth, here stood imposing structures of black stone, the very pathways paved in the same sombre material. As she walked, the inhabitants cast curious, often disdainful glances her way. Rhonda's words echoed in her mind – the Dragon Riders possessed an acute sense of smell, and the scent of a human was, apparently, nauseating to them. Judging by their reactions, the pronouncement held a grim truth.
The thoroughfares were meticulously clean, an unnerving opppsite to the charming disarray of Ghost Town. Many of the inhabitants were not on the ground at all, but soared through the air on the backs of their magnificent beasts. As if summoned by her thoughts, a deafening roar split the air as a dragon, immense and awe-inspiring, swept past overhead. Another followed, and then another, a constant aerial procession that underscored whose realm this truly was.
It was the women who largely populated the ground, few taking to the skies as riders themselves. The majority were merely the consorts of Dragon Riders, their identities seemingly subsumed by their partners. It was a peculiar societal structure, where women born to the lineage were often relegated to the role of mate, their potential as riders seemingly disregarded. Many men, she had learned, forbade their wives from even mounting a dragon. The name, "Dragon Riders'," felt a cruel irony under such circumstances.
Grace's modest cottage finally came into view, a solitary one-storey dwelling nestled in a quiet corner. She had inquired of one of the maidservants regarding its location, and had been provided with a crudely drawn map that had eventually led her here.
She needed a confidante, someone to whom she could speak of the unsettling intimacy she had shared with Grant the previous night, a night that had left her more bewildered than she cared to admit.
Right then, after a third sharp rap upon the timber, the door was yanked back, revealing a most put-out looking woman, garbed in the plain attire of a serving maid. Her hair was in disarray, and a sheen of perspiration glistened on her brow.
"Who is it you're wanting?" she demanded, her tone suggesting Nexarina had barged in at a most inconvenient time.
"Pray, I was told a Mistress Grace resided hereabouts."
The maid fixed Nexarina with a hard stare, a furrow deepening her already damp forehead. "And how might you know of Mistress Grace?"
"We made acquaintance but the night past. If you would be so kind as to inform her that a Nexarina calls."
"Mistress Grace is not at home." The maid began, moving to close the door with some haste, but Nexarina, with a quick hand, prevented its shutting. The maid's gaze swept over Nexarina, taking her measure from head to toe. Just then, another dragon winged overhead, its roar echoing in the air.
"Might you know where she could be found? She mentioned service at the Hall of Binding, but—"
"Mistress Grace is out of town, you see. Gone to Ghost Town, she has."
A look of bewilderment settled upon Nexarina's features. "Her kin reside there, I understand?"
"Indeed."
"Then why would she not have brought them hither to join her?"
The maid offered a weary sigh, as if Nexarina's questions were a tiresome burden. "The General, you see, has seen fit to remove all humans from the haven. By his command, all are to return to Ghost Town. She will be back on the morrow, come the first light. So, if you'd be so good as to call then and cease this disturbance." With that, the door was firmly shut in Nexarina's face.
Confusion clouded Nexarina's thoughts. How could this be? Were not the humans now permitted to remain? Had not her marriage to Grant severed those old restrictions, granting humans leave to stay within the haven's bounds?
"This union is not for mere convenience, child. It is a pact, a means to forge peace between our people and the Dragon Riders. Consider the greater good, the many who stand to benefit, and cease this selfish folly."
Her father's words echoed with stark clarity. Or perhaps, the establishment of peace did not, in truth, extend to humans finding permanent haven within these walls?