Dragonborn (The Jade Lee Romantic Fantasies, Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

drew backward, deeper into the shadows, making sure she was hidden by the curtain. It did not change a thing. Though he could not see her, she could feel his gaze on her, steady, heavy, seeing too much. Yet she knew it was impossible.
    Nothing is impossible in a land of magic.
    Natiya winced at the oft-heard admonition, but did not respond.
    Why do you look just at him ? See everything.
    Obediently, Natiya scanned the room, taking in the drunken revelers scattered about, Talned and Monik in hurried conversation in the back, the covetous glances of men and women alike as they gazed at the new governor.
    Everything.
    Natiya sighed, knowing what the voice wanted and slowly shifting her gaze to see. The governor had a companion. A woman. Brown hair, dumpy, well-manicured, and dressed too beautifully for a common tavern.
    The men watch her.
    Yes, Natiya thought sourly. They watched her too-ample curves accented by her tight-bodiced gown. Lord, she jiggled every time she breathed. And now she was leaning toward the governor, touching his arm with casual intimacy and speaking to him in an undertone.
    Don't turn your head away, Natiya ordered the woman silently, and happily, the woman didn't. Narrowing her gaze, Natiya watched the woman's lips, reading the words as easily as if she'd heard them whispered into her own ear:
    "I'll never understand your... plebeian tastes," the woman said.
    Natiya stiffened, feeling the insult even though she had to search her memory for the meaning of the word. Plebeian. Peasantlike. Lower-class.
    Far from being insulted on his people's behalf, the governor merely smiled. His words were equally silent, but also easily read from his lips. "You know why I am here."
    "I never know," returned his companion. "Nor do I care to learn."
    Neither do I, Natiya thought as she turned away, focusing on readjusting her clothing. So the governor had another purpose for being here? No doubt to find a prettier whore to grace his bed. Well, it wouldn't be her.
    You are angry. Why?
    "Because I don't want to dance. Not now. Not ever. And certainly not for the likes of him."
    She muttered the words aloud, using the sound to reinforce her ill humor.
    You are lying. You always want to dance.
    "I'm tired." This time her words were a peevish complaint.
    What are you hiding from me?
    Natiya sighed. She hated it when the voice got this demanding. There was never any judgment in its tone, merely a steady and insatiable curiosity. It wanted to know. It wanted to understand. And Natiya struggled to answer honestly.
    "That woman," she whispered silently. "She is rich."
    You will be rich one day.
    "She is dark-haired and curvy. Voluptuous."
    The physical is not important.
    Natiya grimaced, knowing the voice would not be still until it had a label, a name to put to the unaccustomed emotions flowing through her.
    "I am envious of her."
    But she has nothing you envy. Wealth and physical form are unimportant, power is important. Power will get you everything you desire.
    Natiya shook her head. "You do not understand," she said. Then she finished her thought silently, knowing the voice would hear what she dared not say out loud: I envy her the man.
    Why?
    Because the man has power, and she has him.
    Could not he have her? Must it be she who has possession?
    Natiya shrugged. To be honest, she could not believe that the man was the woman's puppet. Most likely, it was he who toyed with her. Still, she thought in response, sometimes access to power is enough. If she were this woman, she would not squander the opportunity. She would study and learn and use the man until she had gained all she could from him. Until she understood him.
    Mercifully, the voice remained silent, no doubt studying her thoughts as Natiya wished to study the man. But both were denied the opportunity because, at that moment, the musicians began to play.
    Time to dance. She didn't need to speak the words; the timing was obvious. Yet it was a ritual with her, something she