by Dixon, Ruby
I love him so much.
I am here. No one will harm you.
Just that gentle reassurance is enough for me. I stand a little straighter, and I decide to have some fun with this. We can play along, too.
At the very end of the hall, Andrea pauses in front of a pair of double doors. “Gwen’s waiting for you inside. Enjoy yourselves and welcome to Fort Shreveport.”
I give her my most gracious smile. “Thank you so much, Andrea. You’ve been so wonderful and welcoming.” When her smile slips a little, I decide to push it a little further. “You know, Sam and I aren’t big eaters. I’m sure there’s enough food for one more. Why don’t you come to dinner, too? It’ll make us feel at home.”
Her eyes go wide with surprise. “Oh, I couldn’t—”
Yeah, I’ll just bet she can’t. “Please do.” I put a hand on her arm and give her my most convincing look.
She bites her lip. “I can’t. My…my little brother’s waiting on me. I’d love to another time, though.”
“Another time,” I agree with fake sweetness. I watch as she gives me a relieved look and then opens the door for us.
They are terrible at being devious, my dragon points out.
They really are.
We step inside, and the moment we do, Andrea shuts the door behind us and there’s a click, as if it’s being locked. I’d be nervous about that, except my Rast is here with me.
He won’t let anything happen.
The room we’re in is as elegant as one can be in the After. Long swaths of silky fabric cover the bland walls and there’s a large wooden table set in the center of the room, complete with candlesticks. Several places have been set at the table, and there’s a faint scent of stew—staple of the apocalypse—cooking somewhere. I glance around, looking for the fire, and sure enough, someone’s been clever enough to set up a wood stove in the corner, a hacked-out hole in the ceiling letting the pipe carry away the smoke. Atop the stove, a pot simmers. In the center of the room, a woman with dark hair and wide cheekbones pours a few glasses of fresh water and gestures at the candlelit table. “Have a seat, won’t you? I’m Gwen.”
Are we supposed to be pleased at the effort she makes? Rast asks, openly skeptical.
I guess so. I move forward and sit down in one of the chairs, biting back my sigh of relief at the ache in my leg. Even that small jaunt down the hall is making it throb fiercely. Sit next to me? I ask Rast.
No.
Before I can question, he comes behind my chair and puts both hands on my shoulders, a silent claim and protection both. I freaking love it.
The woman called Gwen looks surprised at Rast’s stance but then moves his water glass next to mine. “Relax. No one means you any harm.” Even the way she says it is tight, as if she doesn’t quite believe it herself.
“You’re the mayor here?” I ask.
“I am.” The look on her face isn’t a proud one, but a resigned one. It’s the look of someone who’s taken on an unpleasant task simply because there’s no one else to do it. For a moment, her face looks strained and I actually feel sorry for her.
And then I remember she’s probably going to poison us.
“My name is Amy,” I tell her, and gesture at the dragon-man hovering over me. “This is Sam. We were traveling toward Fort Orleans when I got Joanna’s message about the fort being under siege. If you don’t mind me asking, where is Joanna? I’d like to meet her and talk.”
Gwen purses her lips and pours herself a glass of water, then sits down directly across from me. “She couldn’t make it tonight. Busy.”
“She’s surely here in the fort though?” I ask. “What with the dragon siege and all?”
“Of course. But she’s sleeping. I’d hate to bother her.”
I nod slowly as if I understand. Oh, I understand all right. I understand that Gwen’s lying through her teeth. I’m tired of playing these silly games. I know we’re locked in. I know there’s something up with the stew. I know that something strange is going on. There’s no sense in pretending like I’m clueless.
Shall I shift to battle-form and defend you? Rast’s hand tightens on my shoulder.
No, I tell him, and it’s strange, but I feel…strong. Empowered. I might be weak physically, but we have this Gwen chick just where we need her. We’re on to her games. She has no idea who she’s messing with.
So it’s time to mess back.
I give her my sweetest smile. “If Joanna’s sleeping, someone should wake her up. Her message sounded truly urgent, and that dragon might come back sooner than we hope.”
For a moment, Gwen’s careful expression slips and her expressive eyes look so very sorrowful in her face. She’s pretty, I realize…or she would be if she didn’t seem so world-weary and tired of everything. Like life has beat all the spark out of her. But then she firms her mouth and shakes her head, picking up her glass of water and taking a sip. “She’ll join us later.”
“I see.” I tilt my head. “Before or after the poisoned stew?”
Gwen chokes on her water, coughing and spewing. “W-what?”
“Isn’t that what you’re up to?” I ask. “Or is it something else? Some other sort of trap? It can’t be the water.” I gesture at the glass in her hand. “Or are you going to go old school and just hold us up at gunpoint? I’m curious.”
She blinks her big eyes at me. “Why would you think you’re going to come to harm?”
“Oh, come on,” I say with a little laugh. “I come from a fort. I know how these things work. You guys are way too welcoming. A private dinner just because strangers showed up? Please. If you want to put me at ease, you’ll treat me a lot worse. That’s how forts treat visitors. You and I both know that no one just wanders in from the streets for a lark. But you guys didn’t ask a single question, just welcomed us in and invited us to dinner with the mayor. Like that doesn’t scream ‘trap’? And why is no one worried about the damn dragon?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Does Joanna even exist? I’m curious.”
Gwen just stares at me for a long, long time. I have an uneasy moment where I think maybe I’ve judged her wrong, but then her face crumples and her mouth quivers and she puts her head down in her arms, shoulders shaking with tears.
Well…that’s not exactly the action of a bloodthirsty murderer. More like a woman trapped with no choices. My heart squeezes with sympathy and I reach across the table to pat her hand. “You want to tell us what’s really going on here? I meant it when I said we could help.”
She takes a deep breath and lifts her head, dashing tears from her eyes. Her hands are shaking and for a moment, she looks far more delicate and fragile than I’ve ever felt.
“We wouldn't poison you,” she says dully. “We need you alive.”
“Alive? What for?”
Her expression grows sadder and sadder. “Because that's the agreement we have with the Brothers of Ash.”
I've never heard of these “Brothers of Ash,” but I can guess who they are. “Nomads?” At her ashamed nod, I feel all sympathy for her leaching out of my body. “You made a deal with nomads to sell people to them?”
“I don't have a choice.” She puts her hands to her temples. “You saw the people we have here. Fort Shreveport has no militia. We have very few men. We weren't even a fort until about a year or so ago, just a group of women and children who left Fort Tulsa when the new mayor took over and decided that anyone with a vagina was part of his personal harem.” She shudders. “You don't understand the choices we've had to make.”
This isn't the first time I've heard bad things about Fort Tulsa. Emma speaks of it with hatred.
Does it matter? Rast asks. I can sense that you are torn between feeling sorry for her and being angry. Do not forget that she tried to poison you to give you to nomads. His hands are tight on my shoulders. You are too clever for her plans, but that does not mean she should be forgiven.
I know. I reach up and touch one of his hands, stroking his knuckles. I can sense th
e rage simmering behind his thoughts. He really, really doesn't like that Gwen wished ill upon us, and it makes me feel even safer. I have the biggest, baddest protector around. I'm not afraid of her or anything she tries. It's going to be all right, I promise him. I want to know what's going on. Let me talk to her before we burn this place to the ground.
I do not know if you are teasing, he mutters at me. I would happily raze this place. I can call Vaan back at any time and between the two of us—
No, babe. I promise we'll get to the bottom of this before we decide what our plan of action is. We can be benevolent badasses as long as it suits us.
He grunts aloud, and Gwen's gaze flicks to him.
I reach forward and pat her hand with my free one to focus her. “You think I don't understand bad choices? I grew up in a fort. I know how terrible they are.”
She looks utterly miserable. “We've nothing but women and children here. Some elderly. A few men that pass through. Some stay because they get attached to a girl, but for the most part, we're vulnerable. I never realized just how vulnerable until a few months ago. The Brothers of Ash rode through and we welcomed them, just like we welcome everyone who needs a place to stay and a bite to eat.” She swallows hard. “That was a…bad call. They robbed us and hurt some of the women. They stayed for a few days and then left, but not before telling us that they'd be back in a few weeks and we were now ‘under their protection.’ They insisted we have to pay them a tithe.”
It sounds like typical nomad stuff. They're bullies and awful people. And Gwen is right—this place does seem to be mostly women and children. I can only imagine how she felt knowing that she'd unwittingly let in the enemy. “So you decided to offer them strangers.”
“No,” she says hoarsely. “We decided to up our security and try to fight them off. We're not without pride. We hid all of our food, armed our people, reinforced our fences…and it didn't do any good. When they came back, they demanded their tithe. We couldn't pay, of course. We had no intention of paying them. We just wanted to be left alone.” Her eyes water and she swipes at them again, glancing away. “So they set a trap and stole my sister when she went out hunting. Told us if we ever wanted to see her again, we needed to double the tithe. Humans are best, since they’re in the market to peddle flesh. That was weeks ago. They told us that if we didn't get the tithe to them, they were going to sell her on the black market to the highest bidder.” The look in her eyes is pleading. “I know it's no excuse, but she's my sister. Family is everything.”
Her words are like a little stab in my heart. Family is everything. Isn't it? But I've abandoned my sister to be with Rast. I know she's worried sick, frantic over her missing, fragile little sister, and I haven't sent her a word. I feel so guilty. Rast's hands clench tight on my shoulders, and I know he has to be picking up my thoughts.
“I didn't want to go along with what the Brothers of Ash are suggesting, but my sister…” She swallows hard. “I can't abandon her to them. So we sent out messenger birds with notes. You're right that there is no Joanna. It's the code word we decided to use. We figured that anyone that shows up asking for Joanna could be drugged, robbed, and then sent on their way. It's not honorable, but it's our only option.” She rubs her brow again. “I'm not proud. I know it's wrong. I just don't know what else to do.”
“Ask for help?” I suggest.
“From who?” She laughs bitterly. “Fort Orleans? Fort Tulsa? You said you came from a fort. You know just as well as I do that asking them for help is no help at all. Whatever they want, the price will be too high.”
I can just imagine what they'd want from an encampment full of women. I hate that her words make so much sense. I want to be angry, but I understand how she's thinking. Wouldn't Claudia do the same thing if I was in trouble? She practically took down all of Fort Dallas just trying to rescue me when the militia held me captive. I'm not even angry. When I see Gwen, I don't see a conniving woman trying to attack strangers.
I see a desperate woman who wants her sister back and has run out of options. She's powerless.
Lucky for her, I'm not. I have Rast on my side. Babe?
If you wish to help them, we will. I understand what it is to want to help family.
I send him a wave of love and affection. My wonderful, wonderful dragon. He thinks he’s so terrible but he understands me like no one else. “We can help,” I tell Gwen softly.
The look on her face is clearly disbelieving. She straightens, a bitter little smile on her face. “You know what's really sad? When I sent out the messenger pigeons with the notes about the dragon siege, there wasn't one. It's like fate's throwing things in my face because for the last week, we've had a dragon that wouldn't leave.” She shakes her head. “Some terrible luck. You're better off just leaving this place behind. I won't stop you. Hell, I'll probably send my people with you.” Her eyes water again, and she looks miserable. “I can't protect them if they stay here.”
“I mean it,” I tell Gwen again. “We can help. We can help with the nomads and the dragon both. But you've got to promise never to harm another person. What you were trying to do tonight isn't right.”
She shakes her head at me. “I appreciate the offer, I really do. But unless you're rich, I don't know that the nomads are going to be interested in whatever you have to offer as a trade for my sister Daniela. She's really pretty.” Her voice catches and she clears her throat. “And she's a virgin. They're going to keep her and sell her no matter what, I think. You would need a hell of a lot of trade goods.”
“Oh, we're not going to trade them,” I reassure her.
Gwen tilts her head. “You're not? Then how…”
“Rast?” I ask, patting my mate on the hand. I glance up at him. “Care to do the honors?”
He bares his teeth, displaying sharp fangs.
Gwen gasps and jerks backward in her chair, nearly falling over. “What the fuck—”
“We can help you with the dragon because we have one,” I tell her smugly. “And we've got far more muscle than any number of nomads would. Sit back and listen up, because I have a very interesting story to tell you.”
25
RAST
The human female known as Gwen does not believe my Amy at first. To her, dragons are enormous and scaly, and I do not match her image of such things. She has never heard of a dragon taking a human form. I think of the male I saw in her fort and wonder if she is truly so clueless or if it is an act. But when I lean over the table and breathe fire, she looks frightened enough to believe.
After that, she calls in the human female that has been our guide—Andrea. The two sit with Amy and discuss how they will protect the others in Fort Shreveport. It is clear that the human nomads will need to be dealt with, Gwen's sister will need to be rescued, and the dragon will need his mate.
For such a small population, they certainly have a lot of problems.
It is interesting, though, because my Amy is in her element. Her eyes shine as she tells her story to Gwen and Andrea. She speaks with such authority that the other females listen to her without protest, and when she gives them ideas of how to lure the nomads in, they agree quickly. I am proud of my mate. Who would think that my gentle Amy had such a strong streak of leadership? But I know her best of all, and it makes sense to me. She has a fierce heart despite her fragile exterior, and she cares deeply for all that she meets. She truly wants the best for Gwen and her people and does not even mind that they tried to trick us. She understands it, and every time Gwen makes water fall from her eyes and mentions her sister, I can feel Amy's sorrow in missing hers.
I realize I have made a mistake in keeping my mate from her family. Amy would choose to be with me, I think, but there is no reason why it must be one or the other. Surely she can see her sister and still be my mate. As for these humans…while I am not pleased with them, they are cleaner individually than they are as a group. In small doses, they can be tolerated. And as they tell my Amy their sad stories, I see a community
between them. Caring. Family.
It reminds me of my own people. The drakoni are fierce but close-knit. And it makes me ache with homesickness.
The females talk while I hover over my mate. I do not participate in the conversation unless my mate asks me a question directly, and I never address the other females. I do not like the human spoken tongue. Amy can convey my thoughts to them easily enough, and I have no desire to speak to the others. I will let my mate take the lead and merely support her.
Amy is not all sweetness and understanding, however. She makes demands of the group. If we are to stay and help them, we must have trust. We must have supplies, and they must listen to what Amy says. We must have quarters big enough to house a dragon, and so the females take us to an enormous room called a “gymnasium” that they have been storing items in. Gwen asks if the room will do.
I decide to show them. I shift immediately, my itchy human clothing shredding in a heap at my feet as my wings flare outward and I flick my tail. I stretch, because ahhh, it feels good to be back in my battle-form after a day of playing human.
As I do, Gwen stumbles backward. The other topples over in shock and must be revived. And my Amy? My Amy just stands there proudly, strong and unafraid.
I have a mate that any drakoni warrior would be fiercely proud to claim.
The females scatter, with Gwen promising to send messages via her birds to the nomads. Amy wants to send one to her sister, but changes her mind at the last moment. I don't know if she'll even see it, Amy tells me, and there's sadness in her thoughts once more. She misses Claudia and wishes she could talk to her.
I feel my guilt like a stone around my neck. It lingers even after the humans bring Amy real food and blankets, and a bed is set up for her near my feet. My mate thanks them graciously, and I am amused at how they race about to please her.
One would think that this is her fort, not Gwen's.
They fuss over Amy and make sure she is comfortable, and then all three women turn to me. “Do you have any questions before they head out for the night, Rast?”
