The Last Dragonlord by Joanne Bertin Read Free Book Online Page A

himself.
    Mentally cursing Peridaen for trapping him like this,
Linden turned his attention to the girl and took the proffered hand, bracing himself for whatever might follow. As she made him a courtesy, he absently noted that she had beautiful auburn hair. The heady scent of wood lilies came to him.
    The girl raised her head. Long lashes hid her downcast eyes.
    Linden started in surprise. Gods, the girl was breathtaking. He’d seldom seen such beauty. “My lady Sherrine, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He hoped for once the words were more than polite emptiness; it would be a pity if she proved a fool.
    Her gaze met his. To his surprise, she neither giggled nor gasped. Instead her slanted hazel eyes held cool amusement. Their look intrigued him. Without realizing it he bent closer.
    “You honor me, Dragonlord. I thank you.” Her voice was low, pleasing to the ears.
    Was that a laugh he heard behind her words? She took her hand back a moment before he wanted to release it.
    “I would welcome you to Cassori, Your Grace—” she tilted her head “—but I’m certain you’ve heard it too many times already this evening.” She smiled then, a mischievous smile that both conspired and commiserated.
    He grinned. This girl had spirit. “Perhaps; then again, perhaps not, my lady. If you—”
    But someone else, with daughter, niece, or sister in tow, was fast approaching. Linden cursed under his breath.
    Sherrine laughed, a sound as delightful as a rippling brook, and made him another courtesy. “ Perhaps, Your Grace,” she said, her tone gently mocking him, “we shall meet again.”
    Sherrine spun away before he could stop her, looking back over her shoulder to arch an eyebrow at him. She disappeared down the other stairs as the Duchess of Blackwood shoved her terrified daughter into his arms.
    When he had disentangled himself from the girl and freed himself from her mother’s tenacious grasp, Linden went to look over the rail. For once he was oblivious to the commotion below. His eyes searched the crowd for a mane of auburn hair.
    Sherrine was nowhere to be found.
    He drank, taking his time to empty the goblet. There had been a challenge in Sherrine’s look as she’d left him, as plain as if she’d spoken it aloud: You will see me again when I wish it.
    Her boldness amused him. So did her challenge; he rather thought he’d enjoy playing her game—and letting her win. Perhaps—just perhaps—it would help to ease the loneliness. He put his goblet down and set off down the stairs.
     
    Maurynna cradled the brass astrolabe in her arms. She’d taken her reading long before but couldn’t bring herself to return to her cabin. For the past two nights it had felt like a cage. On the deck, with the familiar emptiness of starry sky and black ocean, her conflicting desires didn’t crowd so close.
    By sunset tomorrow they should be far enough to catch the Great Current that would carry them first north, then east along the shores of the northern kingdoms. Next port of call was Casna and whatever decision she would come to there. The thought scared the daylights out of her.
    Ever since Otter had told her of his intent to journey north to Dragonskeep, she’d been tormented by a hunger to go with him. To everyone’s surprise—especially her own—she’d proposed leading a trading expedition overland to the north.
    You’ve worked so hard to get your own ship, she scolded herself, and at the first chance to see a Dragonlord you’re ready to abandon it. And for what? Otter’s friend might not even be there—Otter admitted as much himself. And even if that friend is Linden Rathan, what’s to say that you’d even like him? Maybe, just maybe, it’s sometimes better to let a dream stay just that.
    But … Dragonlords! Especially the Dragonlord from all the tales she liked the best—even if he hadn’t yet Changed in the stories with Rani eo’Tsan and Bram Wolfson.
    Maybe this was the time to chase a dream.
    She heard