A title has been chosen for the final book in The Blue Dragon's Geas. The final book will be called Fallen Tiers. I am looking forward to tying up loose ends from Sordith's Wedding to Luthian's suspicions. Here is a small excerpt from Jon's thread.
Jon looked up on hearing the soft footsteps. He had known she was coming. Nightmare had bristled first at sounds that Jon could not hear. It had given him time to prepare himself for what he must do next. He would take no pleasure in it and yet he knew it was the only way he could accomplish his own ends.
Jon simply nodded. “He is growing quickly and is very smart.” The black dragon was now the size of a full flight lexital and able to understand Jon. It puffed itself up with pride, and ruffled its wings, showing off for the High Priestess.
Morana nodded. “How are his hunting skills coming along?” Morana moved to Nightmare and held out her hand. The dragon slowly lowered his head until the top of his muzzle was against her hand.
Jon frowned when she touched Nightmare. The dragon was too young to understand the woman’s motives. He had to allow this light bonding between them or risk losing his position. “I no longer have to feed him. He gets only treats for training.” He moved next to the High Priestess.
“He is really beautiful,” she ran her hand up between the dragon’s eyes, bringing a rumble from the black’s chest.
“You are well matched.” Jon’s voice held a tremor of admiration. It was not a lie fortunately. The High Priestess’s raven-black hair shone every bit as much as Nightmare’s polished scales. Her lined eyes seemed large like the dragon’s, as well.
Morana smiled and looked over at Jon. “I have to wonder if your admiration is more for the dragon than the woman.”
“Cannot a man admire both?” Jon answered. “May I be frank, Lady Morana?” He dared to reach up to stroke the side of the dragon’s head, putting him very close to the woman.
“You may.” She turned slightly to face him.
Jon took a breath to prepare himself. “You are not admired as much as you could and should be. Why do you dance to the strings of the leaders of the Great Isle when you could lead it all? You are smart, beautiful, and so talented in magic.” Jon dropped his hand from the dragon and dared to take the priestess’ hand in his own. “You are the chosen of our Goddess. You should be revered and loved.” He watched her eyes closely, seeing the pupils dilate as he hoped.
Morana did not pull her hand away. She looked at the mage curiously. “What would you do differently, Praetor?”
Jon smiled and put a tender hand to her face, moving some hair back from her eyes. When she did not admonish him, he leaned forward and kissed her with all the tenderness he could muster. When she returned the kiss, he smiled within. Some people were so predictable.