Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [162]
“Tanis?”
The half-elf felt a shudder run through his body, a pain as swift and sharp as the elven spear. He could not speak, he could only stare as the Highlord swiftly removed the blue and gold dragonmask.
“Tanis! It is you!” the Highlord cried, grasping him by the arms. Tanis saw bright brown eyes, a crooked, charming smile.
“Kitiara …”
9
Tanis captured.
So, Tanis! An officer, and in my own command. I should review my troops more often!” Kitiara laughed, sliding her arm through his. “You’re shaking. You took a nasty fall. Come on. My rooms aren’t far from here. We’ll have a drink, patch up that wound, then … talk.”
Dazed—but not from the head wound—Tanis let Kitiara lead him out of the alley onto the sidewalk. Too much had happened too fast. One minute he had been buying supplies and now he was walking arm in arm with a Dragon Highlord who had just saved his life and who was also the woman he had loved for so many years. He could not help but stare at her, and Kitiara—knowing his eyes were on her—returned his gaze from beneath her long, sooty-black eyelashes.
The gleaming, night-blue dragon-scale armor of the Highlords suited her well, Tanis caught himself thinking. It was tight-fitting, emphasizing the curves of her long legs.
Draconians swarmed around them, hoping for even a brief nod from the Highlord. But Kitiara ignored them, chatting breezily with Tanis as if it were only an afternoon since they had parted, instead of five years. He could not absorb her words, his brain was still fumbling to make sense of this, while his body was reacting—once again—to her nearness.
The mask had left her hair somewhat damp, the curls clung to her face and forehead. Casually she ran her gloved hand through her hair, shaking it out. It was an old habit of hers and that small gesture brought back memories—
Tanis shook his head, struggling desperately to pull his shattered world together and attend to her words. The lives of his friends depended on what he did now.
“It’s hot beneath that dragon helm!” she was saying. “I don’t need the frightful thing to keep my men in line. Do I?” she asked, winking.
“N-no,” Tanis stammered, feeling himself flush.
“Same old Tanis,” she murmured, pressing her body against his. “You still blush like a schoolboy. But you were never like the others, never …” she added softly. Pulling him close, she put her arms around him. Closing her eyes, her moist lips brushed his.…
“Kit—” Tanis said in a strangled voice, wrenching backward. “Not here! Not in the street,” he added lamely.
For a moment Kitiara regarded him angrily, then—shrugging, she dropped her hand down to clasp his arm again. Together they continued along the street, the draconians leering and joking.
“Same Tanis,” she said again, this time with a little, breathless sigh. “I don’t know why I let you get away with it. Any other man who refused me like that would have died on my sword. Ah, here we are.”
She entered the best inn in Flotsam, the Saltbreeze. Built high on a cliff, it overlooked the Blood Sea of Istar, whose waves broke on the rocks below. The innkeeper hurried forward.
“Is my room made up?” Kit asked coolly.
“Yes, Highlord,” the innkeeper said, bowing again and again. As they ascended the stairs, the innkeeper hustled ahead of them to make certain that all was in order.
Kit glanced around. Finding everything satisfactory, she casually tossed the dragonhelm on a table and began pulling off her gloves. Sitting down in a chair, she raised her leg with sensual and deliberate abandon.
“My boots,” she said to Tanis, smiling.
Swallowing, giving her a weak smile in return, Tanis gripped her leg in his hands. This had been an old game of theirs, him taking off her boots. It had always led to—Tanis tried to keep himself from thinking about that!
“Bring us a bottle of your finest wine,” Kitiara told the hovering innkeeper, “and two glasses.” She raised her other leg, her brown eyes on Tanis. “Then leave