The Dragon Mistress 3

by R. A. Steffan

  “You seek permanent asylum for them here in Draebard?” Senovo asked.

  “We do,” Rayth answered. “I don’t know what form of recompense would be most valuable in this part of the world, but if nothing else, we can offer a powerful military advantage over your enemies.”

  Andoc leaned back in his chair, regarding us. “Draebard doesn’t have any real enemies these days. Not since the treaties struck during and after the Alyrion incursion. But the tribal council may still be swayed by the promise of future deterrence. It’s too late to try and assemble the elders tonight, but I can arrange for you to speak with them tomorrow at the meeting hall. Say, midday?”

  “That would be ideal,” Rayth said. “Thank you, Chief.”

  Senovo rested his forearms on the table. “Will the two of you be staying at the temple tonight? Forgive me, but you really do appear as though you could use some rest.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, feeling an unaccountable sense of dread at the idea of trying to sleep in this place of childhood memories tonight. Carivel must have seen it, because she twirled the stem of her goblet in her fingers and tilted her head at me.

  “If uninterrupted rest is the goal, you’re welcome to use my old hut, you two. It will be a lot quieter than this place, what with all the acolytes and novices bustling around at the crack of dawn. She gestured carelessly with her free hand. “You know the way, Frella. Help yourself. It’s unlocked, and there should be some wood stacked around the back for a fire.”

  I relaxed. “Thank you. That would be perfect.”

  “Again, we’re in your debt,” Rayth said graciously. And not for the first time tonight, I found myself thinking, who are you and what have you done with my foul-tempered drunkard?

  “I can take you there if you’re done eating,” I said too hastily, needing to get away from the people who knew me too well and saw too much.

  Rayth shrugged. “As you like.” He addressed the others again. “My gratitude for the meal, and for your willingness to hear our story. I look forward to speaking with your council of elders tomorrow.”

  My guardians wished us a good night, though I could still feel the concern radiating from their gazes. Rayth hefted our saddlebags of clothing and supplies over his shoulder. I hustled him out of the temple and across the green, to the ramshackle hut Carivel had owned long before becoming the horse mistress and entering into an unconventional handfasting with two powerful leaders in the village. Once I’d showed him around and made sure he was settled—not that there was all that much to see in the one-room structure—I excused myself with the explanation that I needed some air and wanted to wander around my old village a bit more before I tried to sleep.

  He let me go with a wordless nod, and I comforted myself with the thought that he probably needed some space as much as I did.

  Perversely, my feet carried me right back to the temple I’d been so eager to escape earlier. It was getting late enough that most people inside would be seeking their beds, which suited me fine. I snuck in the back, through the bathing room and into the warren of corridors that extended behind the large altar room and other common spaces where the priests and acolytes lived and worked.

  I wasn’t aware that I had a destination in mind until I fetched up in front of the door to the room Favian and I had shared as children. It was open. I hadn’t thought to bring a candle, but enough moonlight filtered in through the high window for me to see the interior. Neither Favian nor I had lived here for years, and the place had long been returned to its original function as a storage room.

  For some reason, the sight of the stacked boxes and bundles of supplies where there had once been two narrow beds on each side of the room twisted something inside me tonight. It was a ridiculous reaction. Keeping the room as some sort of shrine to my childhood would have been unforgivably wasteful in a building with many residents and such limited space.

  Why was I even here?

  I should be resting; trying to recover my strength and plan for the future… such as it was. I spun away from the storeroom and started walking again, eventually ducking into one of the private rooms that the priests used for counseling. A candle and a flint striker stood on a table in the corner, barely visible in the faint silver moonlight. I lit it, and sank onto the long, padded settle next to it.

  The numbness of the past few days was a heavy weight across my shoulders. I knew I should be doing something more productive than sitting here staring at a candle flame, but the idea of moving—of having to think, and plan for the future—was too daunting. I should’ve stayed at the hut… but instead, I’d left Rayth alone in an unfamiliar place with only his demons for company. As the angle of the moon shifted in the deepening night, though, I stayed exactly where I was.

  Feeling nothing.

  Chapter 23: A Better Understanding

  Frella

  THE DOOR OPENED and closed some time later, dragging me from my reverie. When I looked up, I couldn’t muster much surprise upon seeing Senovo leaning against the doorframe, regarding me.

  I stared at him. “How did you know I was here?”

  Senovo stared right back. “The wolf recognizes its pack, Frella. It sensed your return as soon as you entered the temple.”

  “Did the others send you here to fuss over me, then?” I asked in resignation.

  He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed they did. Though I would have come anyway, I hasten to add.”

  I rose from the wooden settle with its leather-wrapped cushions to pace around the room, restless—not looking at him directly.

  “Of course you would’ve,” I murmured eventually, and huffed out a sigh. “Well, you can tell them not to worry. I know it looks bad, but I’m not seriously hurt. Just cuts and bruises.”

  Senovo let out a huff of his own, pushing away from the wall and stepping in front of me to bring my restless wandering to a halt. “While unfortunate, that’s not really the part that has us worried,” he said. “I’m more concerned about the companion you lost while fleeing here.”

  I flicked the words away with a gesture, not looking at his face. “It’s fine, Senovo. People leave; people die. That’s just part of life. You know that as well as I do.”

  A long-fingered hand cupped my cheek, guiding my gaze up to his. I met his eyes reluctantly.

  “Perhaps so. But at some point, you stopped mourning your losses, and started swallowing them like bitter dregs instead. I should have seen that sooner, and I didn’t. For that, I am truly sorry, daughter.”

  The backs of my eyes burned, and I angled my face away, breaking contact. “Don’t be ridiculous, Senovo.”

  He watched me for a moment longer before moving away—crossing the room to pour wine into two cups with his usual spare grace. Giving me breathing space.

  “Tell me more of your lost friend,” he said conversationally. “He must have been an extraordinary man to have become embroiled in such an adventure as you and Rayth described.”

  I took the wine he offered and returned to my seat, using the moment to swallow the thickness gathering in my throat.

  “There’s not much to tell, really,” I lied, hating myself for trying to make it sound as though Aristede didn’t deserve to be alive and well and here, far more than I did. “He was a mercenary soldier, and one of the two people Rayth contacted after he found and hatched the dragon eggs. He had a silver tongue and a tragic past, but beneath both of those things, he was a good man. Kind to those who needed it. Intelligent, as well.”

  Green-gold eyes saw too deep, as they had frequently done where I was concerned.

  “You loved him,” Senovo said simply.

  I drew breath to deflect with some glib remark about how it was no secret that I’d always had a weakness for pretty men, but somehow the words got tangled up in my chest and came out as a choked sob instead. Suddenly, I couldn’t seem to get air into my lungs. Deft hands rescued the cup of wine from my grip an instant before I would have spilled it all ove
r my lap, and then Senovo was sitting down next to me, drawing me against his side with an arm wrapped around my shoulders.

  I curled into him and clutched at his white robes, the years falling away until I was once again a grieving little girl, bewildered by the unfairness of the world and the pain of unexpected loss. Senovo held me as I gasped, agonized sobs jerking at my chest—tears and snot slicking my face.

  Aristede was gone. He was gone.

  There wasn’t even a body for a funeral. I would never see his beautiful gray eyes or his smooth, dark hair with the unusual white streak running through it again. I would never be able to kiss him or hold him or make love to him… not ever, ever again.

  A low moan escaped my lips; the ache in my chest so sharp that I worried my heart might be physically cracking in two.

  “I’m so sorry, my beloved,” Senovo murmured, and tears wracked me even harder.

  I didn’t want this. I didn’t want these feelings… this helplessness. I’d spent most of my life trying to avoid this kind of grief. It hurt—making everything so much worse than the heavy numbness that had muffled my emotions up until now.

  “It’s my fault,” I gasped, still barely able to get enough air. “My fault he’s dead. Oh gods, Senovo… what do I do now? How do I live with that?”

  Senovo was silent for a moment as the mess from my face soaked further into the shoulder of his fine white robes.

  “One day at a time,” he said. “One moment at a time; one heartbeat at a time, if necessary. Now… come. Tell me all of it, daughter, and share the burden before it crushes you.”

  Haltingly, I got the story out a bit at a time, my voice nasal and clogged from crying. The secret behind the soul-bond, and the paradox that wouldn’t let me to commit to dying for the dragons because doing so would end the species just as surely as it ended me. My impulsive decision to jump on a wild dragon’s back, only to see the dragon I was supposed to be riding shot with a harpoon. The horrible dread as Shantha struggled for hours to keep flying. Aristede’s death, followed immediately by hers. And finally, the crushing blow of watching the white dragon fly away, back to Utrea and the people who would no doubt hunt him until he was destroyed. The agony of knowing that all of it had ultimately been for nothing.

  “I love them so much, Senovo,” I said desperately. “All of them. Even Rayth—the bitter old bastard. But everything’s falling apart, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  He eased me back just enough so that he could meet my gaze. I could only imagine what I looked like with old bruises mottling my face and my eyes red from weeping.

  “Perhaps begin by telling them what you’ve just told me?” he suggested gently. “I’ve found that the truth is generally a good place to start with those you love.”

  “But what if it’s too late?”

  Senovo wiped at my cheeks with the pad of his thumb, just as he’d done ever since I was a child. “It’s not too late, Frella.”

  “How can you know that, though?”

  His smile was sad, but full of compassion. “Because I saw how your companion looked at you tonight whenever he thought you weren’t paying attention.”

  * * *

  The hood of the cloak threw my face into shadow as I made my way from the temple to Carivel’s old hut, quite some considerable time later. I wasn’t in a hurry to be waylaid by old acquaintances who might be out and about at the late hour, especially when I looked like I’d been chewed up and spit out by an angry bear. Nervousness ate at my stomach, souring the small amount of food I’d managed to eat.

  I still hated this… feeling. Everything that had been dull and tolerable before was now sharp and inescapable. Aristede is gone… he’s gone… he’s gone… the words echoed through my body in time with my aching heartbeat.

  But Senovo was right. Rayth was still here. Eldris and Nyx were still here. And they deserved to have me here, too—fully present with them rather than hidden beneath a muffling blanket of emotional absence. Even if the prospect terrified me.

  I knocked on the door of the old tumbledown structure, which acted mostly as guest quarters in the years since Carivel had moved into the temple with Andoc and Senovo. “It’s me,” I called, before letting myself in.

  Rayth was seated by the hearthfire. His shirt was off; his elbows resting on his knees, head bowed, and fingers tangled in the wild waves of his dark hair. He looked as though he’d been midway through undressing for sleep when everything had caught up with him at once. My eyes darted to find a wineskin from our supplies lying nearby, but to my surprise it appeared to be almost completely full.

  He looked up as I entered, and I caught a glimpse of the old pain he normally hid beneath his acerbic facade. Predictably, he schooled his features into stoic lines an instant later. I let my hood fall without thinking, and his brows drew together in concern.

  “Has something happened?” he asked.

  Oh. Right.

  Red, puffy eyes and a blotchy face. The universal signs of ugly-crying.

  “Nothing you don’t already know about,” I assured him.

  Without letting myself think too closely about it, I crossed the cramped space and dropped to a crouch in front of him, placing one hand on his knee. The fire warmed my back as he looked down at me—surprise and wariness warring in his expression.

  “Rayth,” I said, fresh tears dampening my eyes, “I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

  “I… never thought you did,” he said slowly, confusion winning the battle for his features.

  I forged ahead, trying to make him understand. “So much of this is my fault. If only I’d bonded with the white dragon… if only I’d followed the plan like I was supposed to… Aristede would still be—”

  “Stop.” His fingertips touched my lips, stilling them. An instant later, he looked down at them in surprise, as though wondering how they’d gotten there. His touch fell away. “None of this is your fault, hellion.”

  “How can you say that?” I asked, bewildered.

  “Simple,” he replied. “It was my mission to command. As such, any fault ultimately lies with me. That’s what leadership means, Frella.”

  I opened my mouth, only to close it again when I couldn’t come up with anything to say in response. The silence stretched.

  “What are we going to do now?” I whispered eventually.

  Rayth looked away. For the space of a heartbeat, he appeared as lost as I’d ever seen him. Then he met my eyes again.

  “Formally negotiate safe harbor for the dragons, and ourselves. Go back and bring the others here, once Leannyck has healed enough that flying for hours won’t further risk his recovery. Lend our services to your clan in whatever capacity we’re able. Live out our lives.”

  The wrongness of it all nearly choked me. “And meanwhile, Oblisii sits on your father’s throne like the smug little toad he is.”

  Rayth whirled to his feet so fast that I had to catch myself with one hand to keep from falling backward onto my ass. He paced the length of the tiny hut like a tiger in a cage.

  “Will you tell me what happened to you?” I asked him softly. “Why were you cast out?”

  It was incomprehensible to me that the dead king would have banished his eldest son—a strong leader, principled and protective of those he considered to be in his care—leaving fucking Oblisii to take over his kingdom instead. Whatever the reasoning behind it, the old man’s decision had ultimately cost him his life at the hands of his treacherous younger son.

  At first, I wasn’t sure Rayth would answer. He continued to prowl around the room, the firelight playing over tough sinew and flat muscle. His skin was the same shade of dusky gold as Nyx’s, but there the similarity ended. Rayth had been whittled down by bitterness and hard living until nothing remained but the essentials. There wasn’t an ounce of softness left anywhere on the man.

  “My father had three wives,” he said, after several minutes had passed. “My mother was his second wife, but his fir
st wife only ever bore daughters. I was the eldest son. He later married a third wife, who bore Oblisii a handful of years later.”

  “So the throne should have passed to you,” I prompted, trying to read the tension knotting his shoulders.

  “It would have,” he said tightly. “I’d been groomed for the kingship since childhood. I was already promised to the daughter of one of the tribal leaders in the south, part of the complicated system of alliances that keep peace in the country.”

  “So what happened to make you fall out of favor?”

  He shook his head sharply. “I wasn’t the one who fell out of favor.” He paused, and it sounded like he had to force the next words out. “My mother was.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “She was discovered in a compromising position with the head of the household guard.” Rayth ground his teeth, the tendons in his jaw working. “Oblisii immediately started whispering in Father’s ear—calling my parentage into question, planting that seed of doubt in the king’s mind.”

  I blinked. “But… that’s ridiculous. The physical resemblance between you is too obvious for there to be any question.”

  Rayth shrugged off the words. “That mattered less to my father than the idea that his subjects might consider him weak for allowing himself to be cuckolded. He ordered my mother executed, and me banished.”

  My righteous anger swelled, even as my blood ran cold. “Executed? For infidelity? But that’s… that’s barbaric!”

  Rayth’s jaw continued to work. “He was the king. And the law already existed—even if it was seldom enforced in the normal course of things.” He took a deep breath that did nothing to ease the tension thrumming through his body. “My fiancé was devastated, of course.”

  “Yeah… I can imagine,” I said faintly. To think that you were going to become a queen, only to find out that your intended was about to be disgraced and tossed out with nothing…