Rise of the Phoenix

Chapter 3: The Ride

“If it becomes unbearable to ride with her, one of you will have to fly and she can ride in the box,” the Prince added with a snarl. 

The two dragons nodded, looking to each other for confirmation, as if they couldn’t believe his words. 

A stablehand began leading a horse towards the Prince, and, as I should have guessed, the beast was every bit as striking and powerfully built as his master. His steed was as black as midnight, with a mane as glossy as his owner’s. The horse eyed me, apprising me, his demeanor reminding me of a calm before a violently powerful storm. Did he really expect me to ride with him on that gorgeous, albeit monstrous, horse?

The Prince mounted his horse deftly, with all the gracefulness and regality you’d expect from a royal. He looked down at me, and huffed impatiently, as if I was supposed to be doing something. I looked up at him and frowned, earning an amused chuckle from Desmond. 

“Come on, Tai,” Desmond laughed. “You know she’s too small to get on that horse on her own. On top of that, her hands are bound and she may as well be naked for all the coverage her dress provides.”

Desmond stepped forward, his blue eyes twinkling as he gently placed some kind of soft black cloak over my shoulders. I breathed an audible sigh of relief when my modesty was restored, much to his amusement.  

“Thank you,” I whispered. 

“Thank the Prince. It’s his cloak,” Desmond winked again.  

The Prince grunted and mumbled something incoherent, and then reached in his pocket and threw down the keys to the manacle. Desmond caught it, and set to work freeing my hands. 

Pretty sure I moaned once the manacles were off; it felt that good. Desmond lifted an eyebrow at me briefly, but I didn’t care. I had been bound for nearly a week and the feeling of being free overpowered all else. The Prince whipped his head around to glare at me so quickly I was surprised he didn’t fall off his terrifying horse. 

“Better, love?” Desmond chuckled as he watched me massage my aching wrists. 

“Much,” I said in little more that a hoarse whisper. 

“Ah! You do speak!” Desmond replied, his eyes shooting to the Prince in amusement. “Don’t suppose we have to worry about you trying anything with your fire, do we?”

Before I could answer him, Desmond’s hands were around my hips and he was lifting me onto the massive horse. I swung my leg around the horse and ended up colliding with the Prince’s taut back. He tensed further when I grabbed onto his back to steady myself. I couldn’t help but think but how unnecessary the traveling arrangements were, given how my presence seemed to offend him so much. Desmond’s gaze flicked from the Prince to me, but then he nodded his head and stalked back to the wagon.

“Would my fire actually do anything to you?” I asked out loud, immediately regretting my words. 

“No,” the Prince snorted as the horse jolted into motion. The horse began its trot and easily overtook the slow moving horse and cart holding the other slaves. I had to wrap my arms around his waist to keep from sliding off- damned scented oil. I could not fail to notice how uncomfortable he seemed. 

“Is there another way I should be doing this?” I asked through my teeth, still clutching tightly to his muscular body. 

“What?” he asked out without turning his head. 

“You don’t seem to like my arms around you, but I don’t know how else to hold on,” I murmured softly, thinking he could probably hear every word I said despite my low volume. My grandmother had always said dragons had impeccable senses. I peered up at the back of his head to see him turn slightly and flare his nostrils, but he offered no other acknowledgement. 

“Just don’t slide off,” he grunted at me, sounding annoyed. 

“Alright,” I muttered hesitantly, gripping him tighter. 

“You could try not to smell so much,” he added, disgust lacing his voice.

“How would I ‘not smell’?” I asked, wrinkling my nose at his strange words and burying the urge to sniff my armpits. “I was locked in a cell for a week, but I promise you the slavers bathed me throughly before throwing me to the wolves, er— dragons as it were.”  

“Just how dragon are you?” he growled, finally turning his head to look me in the eyes. I almost shuddered as I stared up into their icy blue depths. 

“My grandfather was a fire dragon,” I answered, looking away quickly. I was terrified of revealing too much information, but I was too afraid dragons had some sort of secret ability to see through falsehoods.

“And?” the Prince prodded. 

“What do you mean? He was a fire dragon, obviously, but he died before I was born. I don’t know much about… dragon things.”

“You’re more than a quarter dragon, little one,” he said in a low voice. “Out with it. I can smell you.” 

I froze, realizing too late I had buried my face in his back. The potential combinations of words were charging through my brain, but nothing came to mind but some version of the truth. It was as if he had some sort of power over me. 

“I never knew my father, so I’ve no idea.” I whispered into his back, knowing he would hear me despite my low volume. 

“Lucky you,” he murmured back, a strange note of humor in his voice. I looked up at him, confused at his words, but he was focused on the path ahead of us. 

I began to realize the ice dragon Prince was behaving very strangely, at least by human standards. Perhaps this was normal for dragons… or princes. I had never had the pleasure of knowing either. Curiosity started to get the better of me, making me feel braver, but then again a sense of self-preservation would be lost on a phoenix. 

“What are you going to do with me?” I asked brazenly, tilting my head up in case he bothered to look me in the eyes again. I wanted to hear his plans straight from the Prince’s mouth, and I wanted to look into those frosty eyes as he said it. The tinge of sadness behind them intrigued me

“You are a bed slave, are you not?” he asked me, the corner of his beautiful mouth turning up in what I would almost call a smile.