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The Princess's Dragon
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floor, Princess, and we will successfully evade them.”
    Sondra glanced down at the weathered yet still incredibly handsome face of Derek, son of Calvin, and Warlord of Ariva. His close-cropped blond hair, deep-set eyes, and lowered brows seemed austere and forbidding to some, and frown lines etched across his forehead, giving the impression that he had not often found a reason to smile. Despite this, his finely sculpted lips were curved into a teasing smile for Sondra, revealing perfect white teeth. Her gaze roved hungrily over his face, admiring the purely masculine beauty he possessed, his strong chin, slender but prominent nose, and rugged, weathered skin made him appear as strikingly different from the other men at the ball as a wolf among the many toy dogs carried about by the noblewomen. No other man in the room managed to make the jewel-toned brocade doublet and tights look so incredibly masculine as he offered a strong, calloused hand to help her from the dais. Sondra smiled with relief, grasped her rescuer’s warm hand, and practically leapt off the dais to evade the gaggle of vapid girls.
    “You saved me from a fate worse than death,” she gushed in relief. The man beside her glanced down at her, her head barely reaching his shoulder.

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    ✥ Susan Trombley ✥
    Her delicate circlet continued the slide it started earlier and he gently reset it, careful not to draw attention to the action as he responded.
    “What possible fate could be worse than death?” he teased, the corners of his intense blue eyes crinkling with feigned confusion.
    “Boredom of course, then death … by boredom. So really, you saved me from a fate worse than death, than death itself. I owe you a great boon, brave knight.” Sondra smiled up at him.
    Derek, a trained warrior and former mercenary with more hard-won wealth than nearly all of the nobles at this party, felt the power of that smile like a fist in his gut. When her father, the king, elevated him to the position of Warlord, a title unused by the peaceful kingdom in centuries, he felt a happiness that came rarely to him after a lifetime of blood and war, but that experience couldn’t compare to the way his heart lifted at the sight of Sondra’s smile. “I ask only that you bestow another smile upon me, Your Highness, that I may bask in your glory this evening.”
    “Humph, well, since your valor comes so cheaply, perhaps I should suggest my father lower your pay.” Sondra playfully bumped his shoulder before taking up her position across from him for the dance.
    “Well, when you put it that way,” Derek smiled wickedly at her, “perhaps I will request another boon.”
    “Oh, and what would that be?” Sondra fluttered her lashes up at him as he took her hand and they moved down the line of glittering dancers.
    “Why … let me think.” Derek paused and Sondra felt a strange pulse in her stomach that had nothing to do with social nerves and everything to do with the way he gazed down at her at that moment. “I know. I demand another dance from the most beautiful woman at the party.”
    “Well, you shall have to seek out my sister and rescue her; I believe that even now she suffers the same fate that I so narrowly avoided.” Derek laughed, his head thrown back and his white teeth startling in his tan face. “You little imp, you know I referred to you.”
    “Well, since you’ve obviously been enfeebled and left blind by all of your fighting and warring, I guess I shall have to humor you.” She smiled up at him.
    “Blinded only by your smile, Princess.”
    “Why, my Lord Derek, I had no idea you were such a poet,” Sondra laughed at his expression of horrified disgust.

    ✥ Th e Princess’s Dragon ✥
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    “Please, Your Highness, never suggest such a thing; my reputation is at stake,” he pleaded, and feigned concerned dread.
    “I suppose I shall keep your secret, my Lord.”
    “Well, that’s a relief; my men would never let me forget it otherwise!”
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