"Back by Dawn"
Nikolai stood at the bow of the ship, basking in the coolness of the sea spray and the saccharine tang of brine on the air. The sun was sinking into the horizon and had set the sea on fire in rippling golden waves. He watched the fires very gradually dim and diminish and night sweep across the sky. He had nowhere to be. No one to be. Out here on his ship, he was Sturmhond again. Famous privateer. No longer the second son, no longer the former king. Just Nikolai. Free.
The stars filled the night sky, a smattering of diamonds so far out of reach of mortal man. They made him feel small and insignificant, which, after everything he had been through, was an odd sort of comfort.
A large shape blocked out the stars as it sailed in front of them. Nikolai straightened. It was too big to be a bird, too silent to be an airship. It swept around again, gliding ever closer. Nikolai hesitated to sound the alarm, some niggling feeling holding him back. The gust of wind overhead buffeted the sails, and he finally saw a glint of scales in the emerging moonlight. But it was just a flash, and then it was gone, and the figure that dropped onto the deck with preternatural poise was no attacker.
Nikolai broke into a wide, surprised grin. "My queen."
Zoya straightened and smoothed down her royal kefta. "Nikolai. Or should I call you Sturmhond out here?"
"Always Nikolai for you," he replied, then quirked a curious look at her. "What are you doing?"
She shrugged one shoulder blithely. "I missed you."
"I've only been gone a few weeks."
She narrowed her eyes. "So you have not missed me? Glad to see you're happy out here, then."
He flashed her his dashing smile and closed the distance between them. "You are the one missing piece that would make all this perfect."
"Hm."
He leaned down to kiss her, though she quickly broke it to glance around. They were out of sight of the lower deck, though.
"If you didn't want to be noticed, you should not have come on wings," Nikolai teased.
"I could not have come by any other means." Her expression shifted, turning softer. "You do have a private chamber here as captain, do you not?"
He smirked and took her hand to lead her down to the lower deck. They got a few surprised looks from the crew on duty, but no one made comment or asked any questions. Nikolai prized discretion in his people.
He led Zoya into his cabin, lit with oil lamps. She roved her gaze around.
"Not the accommodations of a king," she remarked.
"I lived like this long before I was a king," he reminded her. "And I do pretty well for myself."
"You always do."
He moved toward her again, reaching up to stroke a hand down her arm. "Why so melancholic, my queen?"
"I wish you wouldn't call me that."
Nikolai's mouth turned down. "Why not? You are queen."
She let out a soft snort. "I only know how to rule as a general. I am not…mild-mannered."
"If the people wanted a mild-mannered queen, they would not have chosen a dragon."
She turned her eyes up to meet his. "You shouldn't have left. You know how to rule."
He sighed. "We agreed it was best for the time being. My…status," he said, putting it mildly, "was a complication you do not need while establishing your reign."
"I could use your help."
He smiled fondly. "You have been by my side long enough to know all my wiles. And you are no puppet queen, my Zoya. You will reign in your own way, and it will be right because it's yours."
She looked away, still doubting herself. Nikolai placed a finger under her chin to lift it, and then gently pressed his lips to hers. She responded with fervor, hooking one hand behind his head and kissing back. Her other hand grasped at the buttons of his shirt, so he fingered the clasps of her kefta. In a tangled dance, they managed to divest each other of their outer clothing and fall onto his bed. Zoya stopped abruptly, though, and Nikolai tried not to wince at the rejection.
But instead of pulling away completely, she reached for one of his hands, and the glove he hadn't removed. Nikolai let her gingerly pull the article off, revealing fingers marred with black veins. Marks of the demon that still lived inside him.
Zoya tenderly reached for his other hand and removed that glove as well. She pressed her palm to his and interlocked their fingers. Hers delicate and perfect, his calloused and scarred.
"I want you to touch me, Nikolai," she said.
He stared at their entwined hands, his heart fluttering unexpectedly. Reaching up with his other hand, he carded his fingers through her hair. Their lips met again, and the fires of passion reignited.
"Whether you wear a crown or have a throne, you will always be my queen," Nikolai breathed in her ear.
"One day," she murmured back, "I will make you my king who wears a crown and has a throne."
The promise filled him with yearning. He loved his life at sea, but he also loved his country and wanted to see her thrive. He knew Zoya would lead Ravka into a new era, and he wanted to be by her side in any capacity he could.
She left in the dead of night, kissing him goodbye as she quickly dressed, and he walked her out to the bow.
"I miss you already," he said, a pang in his heart.
She gave him one of her rare warm smiles. "I will find you tomorrow night."
He shook his head. "You have a country to rule, remember?"
Her eyes turned silver as the dragon's power kindled. "I just have to be back by dawn."
And with that, she stepped backward off the bow of the ship. A split second later, giant wings snapped taut, and the dragon soared up into the starry night. Nikolai watched her go, a queen of the earth and sky. And of his heart.