The Dragon's Bond

Elara knelt on the cold hard ground with a bucket of soapy water next to her, scrubbing vigorously at a stubborn wine coloured stain someone had left on the marble.

But that stain was nothing compared to the sounds that emanated from behind those onyx doors that led to the king's private chambers. Loud feminine cries merged with low masculine groans.

She focused intently on her task, willing her mind to go blank, a skill she had perfected over the past year in the obsidian palace, the art of being invisible. A very handy skill when you served under creatures whose mere gaze could reduce you to ashes.

She was new and unnoticed and she was thankful for that. In a court filled with scaled draconians and voluptuous dryads a simple and dull human woman such as herself would always be overlooked.

She was a small woman with silver blonde hair tied into a severe knot at the back of her head. Her features were delicate, soft plump lips, large violet blue doe eyes and pale skin. The drab greyish linen she donned did nothing to flatter her slender frame. She was the exact opposite of the kind of women the dragon king bedded.

The noises from the king's chamber finally subsided as the woman let out a sharp final cry, followed by his satisfied rambling growl. Elara exhaled, releasing the breath she didn't even realize she was holding. Soon she would be done with her task so that she could scurry back to the safety of the lower servants' quarters.

The massive door swung wide open as a woman emerged, swaying slightly on her feet. Elara quickly recognized her. Lyria, one the court's famous dancers who usually entertained the king. She was a draconian with copper colored scales that dusted along her temples and forearms, shimmering brightly. Her voluptuous curves filled out her scanty silk garments which were now in disarray.

Her sheer veil was ripped and her golden breast band was askew revealing the swell of a heavy breast. Her face was quite flushed, her lips visibly swollen, and her eyes glowed with both triumph and exhaustion. She smelled heavily of sex and the king's distinctive scent.

Lyria's amber colored eyes that had slits in them landed on Elara kneeling on the floor.

Her lips curved into a smirk, one that held both pity and contempt. "He's in ....quite the generous mood," she boldly said, adjusting her breast band with a deliberate slowness. "If you work fast enough, little mouse, he might not know you're even there to begin with." She sauntered away with an exaggerated flip of her coppery hair, her hips swaying seductively and the heavy scent of coupling trailing after her.

Elara's insides churned as she recalled the duties assigned to her this morning by the stern-faced Mistress Calloway. "Clean the antechamber and the king's bathing pool after his ...activities." There was no excuse she could give to evade these tasks, none that Calloway would