His inner human rolled its eyes in exasperation. So don’t talk.
John clenched his jaw. It would be so natural, so right, to reach out to her, to stroke away the tension in her shoulders and kiss smooth the lines of worry furrowing her brow…but his vow of chastity kept his arms at his sides. His honor bound him like a net of gossamer threads—easy to break, but irreparable once broken.
He wished that he had thought to offer Neridia some of the surviving treasures from his hoard before they’d left his house. The pearls had been scorched by the fire, but he’d been able to rescue his gold and silver at least. He had nothing that would truly befit her status as Empress-in-Waiting, of course, but perhaps she might have taken some small comfort in being at least somewhat adorned.
He eyed a jeweler's window as they passed, wondering whether any of the diamonds on display might lift Neridia’s spirits. But although he had only the haziest grasp on the peculiar human concept of money—Griff had always managed his finances for him—he suspected that only the cheapest pieces were within his means. He could hardly insult his mate by offering her such paltry gems.
Then his gaze snagged on the neighboring shop.
But perhaps there is something I could offer her…
“John?” Neridia queried, as he took her elbow. “What are you doing?”
“I,” he said, steering her firmly inside the small shop, “am buying you an ice cream.”
“What?” Neridia stared at him as they took their place at the end of the line of waiting customers. “Why?”
“Because you have not eaten anything today, and this will provide you with much-needed energy. Because you spoke so passionately about flavor combinations last night that I think you would enjoy this experience. Because the sun is shining, and I am told it is traditional to celebrate a beautiful day with the ritual consumption of a…” John had to pause to read the menu chalked above the counter, in order to remind him of the human word. “Ah yes, a ‘cone.’ And finally, because I experience an intense desire to eat sweet things when my inner human is agitated.”
Neridia’s lips had been slowly curving upward throughout this speech, but at his final words she blinked. “Your inner human? What do you mean?”
John noticed that the group of human boys ahead of them had half-turned, casting the two of them rather odd looks. He glared, and the youths quickly discovered a pressing need to examine the menu instead.
Nonetheless, he lowered his voice. “Many shifters experience a, an internal duality, shall we say. Shifters who are born as humans tend to have a separate animal-self contained within their soul. My sword-brother Dai, for example, would speak of his inner dragon. I am the reverse. I am a dragon, therefore my other-self is human.”
“Like having a split personality?” Neridia sounded dubious.
“No, nothing so malign. It is just that the instincts of our other form always occupy a corner of our minds. They speak to us, in our own thoughts. That is how I am able to understand human perspective.”
Sometimes, his inner human commented dryly.
Neridia fell silent for a moment, as the line shuffled forward. “So…would I have an inner dragon? Like Dai?”
This possibility had not occurred to him. “Perhaps. You are human-born, after all.”
“Sometimes I feel—I hear—like a little voice, urging me to do things I normally wouldn’t dare.” Neridia bit her lip. “Does that sound crazy?”
“It sounds like you are a shifter,” he said, smiling down at her. “What are these things that your inner voice encourages you to do?”
She peeked sidelong at him, her cheeks darkening a little. “Never you mind. What sort of things does your, um, inner human tell you to do? Apart from eat chocolate?”
John was saved from having to answer that one by the group in front of them dispersing, leaving them at the head of the line. The girl behind the counter did a double-take as she looked up at the two of them, but her professionally cheerful smile never wavered.
“What can I get for you today, folks?” she asked, brandishing her scoop invitingly at the spread of various flavors.
Neridia only needed to examine the tubs for a heartbeat before pointing at one. “Honey and ginger for me, please. What are you having, John?”
His inner human brightened hopefully, but John shook his head. “Your pleasure is enough for me. Although my inner—ah, that is, although I occasionally experience a craving for such foodstuffs, I do not indulge in them.”
Neridia’s forehead wrinkled. “Wait. Are you trying to tell me that you’ve never eaten ice cream? Do your vows forbid you or something?”
“No. It is simply a good test of discipline to deny myself such-“
Neridia turned back to the server. “He’ll have triple chocolate. With fudge sauce. And marshmallows.”
Which was how John found himself holding a brittle cone filled with mud-colored frozen cow excretions, topped with a tar-like ooze and sprinkled with what appeared to be tiny fragments of peculiarly solid white foam.
“You were right.” Neridia’s eyes closed in bliss as she licked her own, much less alarmingly brown confection. “This was a good idea.”