Let the lovemaking begin.James hated these meetings.The main problem, for him, was that he had to listen to people who should stay silent. Had to quietly listen to self-important pricks go on and on about some problem already solved, minor nobles or merchants who wanted to make sure all knew they were still there and powerful. Speeches masquerading as questions, questions masquerading as thinly veiled threats. It was stupid. It was pointless.It was, in effect, this culture's closest thing to democracy.He rotated his shoulder, getting a kink out. This gathering was the largest yet. Every unit commander. Every merchant family head, every noble, every guild master. All gathered, with their seconds, around the fire. All gazing at him. Wondering how he could be used. Manipulated. Or worshiped. There were a few of those among them, mostly people he really did not want to associate with. They could be allies, though. Politics, bedfellows, etc. James would not piss anyone off.Unless they were. Instead, she let him embrace for a moment, then went to the tree to retrieve the gold package with Connor’s name on it. Without a word, she handed it to him and motioned for him to open it. “It’s for you,” she whispered. “Iz, you didn’t have to, honey,” he embarrassingly pleaded. “I . . . well . . . I didn’t get you anything.” “Just open it, please, Connor,” she whispered, sobbing. He removed the red ribbon and paper gently, unwilling to disturb the careful care of the wrapping. When he lifted the lid off the box he saw the dragon. “Oh, wow! Iz, honey, it’s beautiful. Thank you,” Connor remarked, smiling. He held it flat in his hand to admire it. Isabelle placed her hand under Connor’s to steady and position the small white tiger onto the body of the dragon. The dragon and tiger nestled perfectly together. Connor finally understood the significance of the pairing, his eyes welled with moisture. He reached with his free hand to wipe away hers as she swabbed his. As they giggled at the.
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