Origin (Scales 'n' Spells 1)

Cameron stopped walking, a small frown on his lips. “Royal historian. And Ravi is?”

“Ravi is a member of the royal guard.”

“And you’re king,” Cameron said, his voice dropping closer to a whisper.

“Yes.”

Cameron glanced around them. There were more people streaming around them, but they stood undisturbed like a large rock in the middle of a forest brook. “But no one is staring or whispering or even taking pictures when they see you. No one knows. Why? Why doesn’t anyone know dragons still exist?”

An old pain throbbed to life in Alric’s chest as his eyes strayed away from the man in front of him to the people passing them by, blissfully ignorant that the very thing they celebrated stood among them. But they weren’t really celebrating dragons. Just the end of them.

It had been a relatively easy decision at the end of the war. One of the few things he and Rodrigo, king of the Ice Clan, agreed on.

“We decided it was better for our kind to be forgotten,” Alric started. “We tried to keep the fighting away from human settlements and cities, but it wasn’t easy. Magic can wreak horrible devastation, and dragons…well, we’re not particularly small by any means. Countless humans lost their lives in a war that had nothing to do with them. When it was over, we thought it safer for humans if we stayed away from them as much as we could and let them think we were gone. This festival is a celebration of the end of our war. A celebration of our disappearance.”

Cameron reached out and laid his hand on Alric’s right arm. He tilted his head to the side, lowering it just enough that he could look directly into Alric’s eyes. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Cameron didn’t wait for his answer. He grabbed Alric’s hand and pulled him into the center of the square. “Look around you. Do you really think if humans were glad dragons were gone, we’d be celebrating you like this? I know the war stole from your family and friends, but I think you’ve let that suffering cloud your vision. These people aren’t celebrating your death. They are celebrating that you lived and soared above our heads with your beautiful wings sparkling in the sun.”

Alric snorted. “Our wings do not sparkle.”

Cameron leaned in close, his nose bumping against Alric’s. “Fine. Glint. Gleam. Shimmer. Twinkle.”

“I will allow gleam.”

Cameron groaned, but it was with a smile. “Whatever. My point is that humans wouldn’t dress up as dragons and dance around like idiots if we were glad you were dead.”

“It’s been my experience that humans don’t need much of a reason to dress up and dance like idiots.”

“I should have known the king of the dragons would be a royal pain in the ass.”

Cameron tried to walk away, but Alric caught his hand, pulling him back in with enough force that Cameron’s chest bumped against his own.

“And what does that make you, my mage? Magically stubborn?” Alric teased.

For a moment, he was only aware of how close Cameron was. His lips tilted in that teasing smirk were only inches from his own. A hint of cologne drifted around them mixed with sweat and something Alric was sure was purely Cameron. Combined with the scent of magic, like a storm unleashed, it was simply intoxicating. And then Cameron’s hand in his. Cameron hadn’t tried to pull away. Instead, he’d actually threaded his fingers with Alric’s, tightening their hold on each other.

“There is nothing magical about my stubbornness. I come by it naturally. My family has a long history of stubbornness.”

Alric chuckled. “I’m sure it has a long history of magic as well.”

Cameron stepped back and pointed a warning finger at him. “We’re not talking about that right now.” Cameron started to release his hand and walk away, but Alric tightened his fingers in Cameron’s, drawing the man’s dark eyes up to him.

“Thank you,” Alric said with a small bow of his head. “I always thought they’d be glad we were gone.”

“No. We’re just really glad you lived in the first place.” Cameron flashed him a tender smile and then shook his head as if trying to shed the seriousness of the moment. “But if you want to thank me, then you can thank me with some coffee. I didn’t have nearly enough caffeine to start my morning.”

“Your wish is my command,” Alric joked, directing them toward the nearest coffee and pastry vendor.

Cameron’s hand slid from his this time, and Alric found himself staring down at his own. He swore his skin felt cold without Cameron’s touch, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt cold like that. He liked holding Cameron’s hand. It had fit just perfectly against his own. He liked the slightly sweaty brush of his palm and the rough hints of callouses on the pads of his fingers. It was a good hand. A hand that belonged in his. His dragon rumbled an agreement, content with the contact like a cat would be in a sunny perch.