Chapter 12

Alistair spent the night plotting while Lenora slept in his arms. For once, he did not move her from the four-poster bed she adored, even though it was not as good as the mountain of gold he'd amassed.

His female had admitted the avalanche of textiles he'd put atop made it comfortable, but she still seemed to enjoy the cachet a bed represented. He resolved that the next night he would simply move the bed atop the pile, solving both issues.

He was in quite a problem-solving mood. Though his thoughts were far from sleeping arrangements.

The stepmother.

At last, she had offered him the missing piece of the puzzle. And now he could mete out justice against those who had dared harm his mate.

When he had first learned she had been abused, he had fought the urge to go turn the entire worthless village of Mossley to ashes. In his view, they were all complicit in her mistreatment. But there were two issues with such a thing. One, the person directly responsible might not suffer enough—unacceptable. And two, there might be people Lenora had cared about there. Friends perhaps, though she'd made no mention of them. Parents were another possibility. She might take issue with him killing them in his quest for justice.

Any imagined parents were absolutely worthless in his view for allowing their daughter to be so mistreated, but his sensitive Lenora would feel differently. So he had resisted his initial urge to simply go set the entire village ablaze.

But now he had a name.

Night twisted back to day, and his Lenora roused, looking lovely as ever. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and grinned at him.

"See? Isn't a bed restful?" She flashed a brilliant smile at him. It was almost enough to make Alistair postpone his plans so he could spend the day in bed with her, worshiping her body.

Instead, he agreed, ignoring the fact he himself hadn't bothered to sleep—it was a pastime he enjoyed but did not require. He did insist she stay in bed while he fixed a hearty breakfast for her. In their months together, he'd come to learn several of her preferences. He'd also helped her discover ones she hadn"t had the opportunity to explore before. This morning, her breakfast included a half-pound of dragon fire-grilled sausage and bacon, fresh bread, strawberry preserves, dry-aged cheese, accompanied by several sweet confections he'd procured that solicited the most wonderful sounds from Lenora when she had first sampled them.

Naturally, it was all served on golden trays. And naturally, she shared half of it with Morthil who had been resting on the ground beside the bed and since usurped his spot where Lenora now stroked his ears. The swallump purred at her ministrations, and Alistair hand-fed her since her hands were now busy.

And just because he enjoyed it.

"I was thinking I might start categorizing all your books today," she told him between bites. "I've read so many now it's hard to keep track."

He bent down to lick a stray bit of jam from the corner of her lips. "That sounds very nice, precious one. I'll be gone on an errand today, but I'll be back by nightfall. Morthil will guard you."

"An errand? Where?"

"Your old village, Mossley. The time to tithe has come."

She jerked back, aghast. "It hasn't been a year yet!"

He gave a careless shrug, standing from his perch at the bedside. "I'm a dragon. I'm entitled to my whims."

"But… but they won't be able to pay."

"Oh, I don't think that will be an issue."

"Well, I do," she argued. "Let me come with you."

Alistair considered for a moment. He hadn't wished to upset her with the horrors he was about to inflict, but maybe it was just as well. Once Lenora saw how well he could defend her from any who would harm him, she would surely be willing to accept the twin flame bond. For he still had not told her about it entirely, unsure she would accept.

They were in the air a scant half hour later. Instead of in his claws, she rode atop him. They had gone out on adventures in the months since, and he was pleased with how she had come to love the air, come to trust that he would keep her safe.

"Why are you really going?" she called from atop his back. "Why Mossley?"

"Because that is where the scum who dared disfigure you lives."

"You can't mean to kill my stepmother! How is that a tithe?"

"Did she not offer you up to me, the first of that ignorant mass to decide you were a fair sacrifice? Trying to save her own life in exchange for yours?" It may have been the best thing to ever happen to Alistair, but his mate had been frightened all the same. So, he felt no gratitude there.

"That was different," Lenora argued. "The entire village thought it was in their best interests. They thought it would end the tithing."

"Then I shall offer them a deal. If the village agrees to give me your stepmother, I will never require them to tithe again. And this time, they will not have to bank on the words of a seer who does not speak for me."

Lenora was silent for a long moment, obviously trying to find some hole to poke in Alistair's argument. But it was a fair deal. It was also one he offered because he had no doubt they would agree. For if they were willing to relinquish Lenora, they must be willing to do anything.

They landed in Mossley while the sun was high in the sky. There was, as to be expected, a great deal of screaming, fleeing, more screaming, and an unpleasant, but not altogether unexpected, amount of urination.

But none were willing to take up a weapon. Obviously, it would be futile, as they knew.

Yet it hadn't stopped his bride. Yet another way they were unworthy of her.

She was hidden on his back. He could have used her for a mouthpiece, but instead, he deigned to speak to the mortals.

"Bring me the one called Helga Tashe. If you give her to me, I will never again seek a tithe from Mossley."

Silence.

Then the screaming resumed. Alistair didn't concern himself with following the conversations that immediately followed, the debates, the searches, and so on. Less than an hour later, a stringy, red-faced woman was brought in front of him. Her hands were bound, and a cloth gag was around her mouth.

"Is this her?"

Thinking the words were for them, the village leadership fell over themselves assuring him that they would never dare attempt to deceive the great and powerful dragon. But he only listened for Lenora's confirmation, which came quietly from behind his neck.

Finally. He'd devised any number of ways to torture the woman into regret, but now that she was in front of him, he nearly lost control of his anger. He inhaled, preparing to incinerate the witch.

"Wait!"