Not long after, she heard a soft knock. She placed her hand on her stomach and focused on slowing her breathing before unlatching the door to peer out. Emich stood just outside, wearing a frown.
He whispered, “Are you well?”
“I am fine.”
She opened the door wide, prepared to brush past him, but he braced his hands on her shoulders. “Nein. Try to find rest. The cleaning can be done in the morning once he is gone, and I would rather you remained here tonight. I will take his measurements alone so he is not tempted to act improperly again.”
His touch was very different from Rubrecht’s. It wasn’t intended with malice. As she stood before him, she felt his hands shake as he held her. It was the closest thing she’d had to a hug since her father left. Yearning for a taste of comfort, she stepped closer and put her arms around his waist.
Emich’s body tensed for a moment, and she was unsure whether she’d made a mistake. Then his hands slid to her back to hold her tight. His fingers and palms generated a damp heat. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes with a sigh. Time slowed. Morgen could have remained there for eternity, safely pressed against him, but she came back to her senses.
She lifted her head away so she could place a gentle kiss on his jaw. “Thank you for wanting to protect me. I do appreciate your efforts.”
He sucked in a quick breath and held it, watching her step away from him. A strange expression crossed his handsome face, one she had not seen him wear before. His cheeks flushed. Then his shaking, clammy hands dropped away from her.
“See you in the morning,” he said to the floor.
Morgen nodded and latched the door shut.
15
Had she really just kissed him? He stared at the closed door in disbelief. He could still feel her arms wrapped around his waist and smell her hair in his nostrils. Never before had anyone besides his mother embraced him or held him close.
A noise from his guest’s room drew him from his thoughts. He had things to tend to and couldn’t get distracted by Morgen. Emich presumed she would have no interest in getting into another entanglement with Rubrecht and hoped she would remain in his sleeping quarters until morning, despite her curiosity.
Emich peered into Rubrecht’s room and found him sitting on the long wooden chest placed in front of the enclosed double bunk bed. The man lifted his brow. “Ready? Where will we do this?”
“Outside,” Emich mumbled and turned around to exit the kitchen door.
The man followed him and said loudly into the night, “Would this have been easier to do in daylight?”
Emich whipped around with his finger to his lips. “Quiet, please. I do not wish to have a dragon spotted on my land.”
At this, Rubrecht guffawed and snickered behind him. “She does not know? Are you so ashamed of what you are? You know, there is a way to resolve that sort of problem. Dragon fire.”
“Roasting anyone who happens to discover my secret is not my preferred way. I would rather prevent discovery at the start.”
Emich’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. The moonlight helped illuminate the meadow, which would aid him in taking the measurements. He went into his workshop to find his thirteen-knot rope and happened upon a wooden bowl. When he came back out, he asked the awaiting Rubrecht to meet him behind the building.
With the rope hanging around his neck, Emich hurried down to the lake to collect some damp earth in the bowl. He returned to the edge of the meadow where the trees clustered to the wooded slope behind the home and workshop.
There, stretching in the grass, was Rubrecht. Now in dragon form and stretching his neck high, he lifted his leathery wingtips lifted into the air before tucking them back by his side. His onyx scales reflected back the dull silvery glow cast down by the moon. Spikes trailed from the top of his head down to his shoulders. Rubrecht’s beady eyes stared at him as he approached.
Emich came to stop before the beast. His head came to the same height as the dragon’s snout. Rubrecht’s nostrils flared, and he opened his jaw, revealing many pointed teeth.
Emich ignored the creature’s show of might and began to walk around him. “I will take a mold of the tip of your tail first.”
The dragon curled its tail around its legs, bringing the arrow-like tip to rest at Emich’s feet. He bent down to lift it up. The small scales were slippery and flexed with movement. Emich pressed its pointed, bony end into the bowl of rocky soil.
“That should do.” He set Rubrecht’s tail back on the ground and set aside the mold he’d taken. Emich pulled the rope from his shoulders and held it up. “Now for our measurements. The base of your neck, the fullest point across your chest and behind your forelegs.”
He proceeded to mutter the necessary measurements under his breath, “Five span…eight span…ten span.”
All the while he wondered how to armor a dragon. His grandfather had supposedly forged protection for their kind before he had come to settle on this mountain, but Emich never his father make any such thing. Emich was familiar with the movement involved in flying and running. How could he cover the breast without hindering such motions?
If he could not engineer what Rubrecht needed by the end of the four weeks, he hated to think what would happen to the people of the valley, his familial home and his hidden mine. Most of all, he regretted taking Morgen in, for he didn’t want to imagine what could happen to her if he failed to forge dragon armor. He had promised to keep her safe, but more than that, he found that he cared for her. Deeply.
Morgen heard the men’s voices disperse and knew she was alone in the house. They had left, though she didn’t understand why. The kitchen was better lit than the workshop, but maybe Emich had what he needed out there.
A narrow window let in only a small amount of moonlight, but it was enough for her to avoid stumbling blindly through the room. She finally lifted the leather apron from around her neck and set it on the trunk, pleased to be rid of it at last. She loosened the fastenings of her dress and pulled it off, leaving her standing in her kirtle. The thin layer of fabric smelled of smoke as it often did.
She climbed into bed and was happy to discover the mattress was stuffed with down, something she’d never experienced before. It was far fluffier and softer than any bedstraw she’d ever lain upon. A smile crept on her lips as she stretched out and stared into the linen canopy above.
Too much had happened that day for her busy mind to quiet. She tried to find sleep, but could not. Especially since the men hadn’t returned yet. What was it Emich had told her about the dragons? If she remained in the meadow, she would be safe. But what about at nighttime?
Curious as ever, she slipped out of bed to peek out the window. Moonlight bathed the land in a silvery glow. She spotted the trees that ringed the meadow and the edge of the workshop, though she couldn’t detect any movement. Morgen strained to listen, hoping to hear their voices, but when silence met her ears, she decided to get a better look. The men didn’t have to be aware of her presence—she would keep herself a safe distance away. She had no interest in a repeat occurrence of feeling Rubrecht’s hands on her. She just wanted to know Emich was safe, so she pulled the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders to stay warm.
Morgen released the latch and peered into the dimly lit hall. Finding no one, she stepped out cautiously and snuck to the kitchen door. She pressed her ear to the wood, checking for voices just outside, and heard nothing. Just as she had done before, she opened it slowly to have a look and crept out of the house onto the lawn.
She stared across the field to the workshop, searching for movement. Again, she found nothing, so she crept farther still. Then a voice near the tree line drew her attention.
“That should do.”
Her eyes widened as she observed something twice the size of a horse standing in the moonlight. Though its scaly skin shined as if painted with silver, she could see that in truth, it was much darker—a deep midnight. Wings were tucked to its
body, yet their length still stretched back to the ground where its tail was coiled, and spikes protected the crest of its head down its spine.
Morgen’s throat went dry, and she froze. She couldn’t have screamed if she wanted to. She blinked to make sure her eyes were not deceiving her. When she refocused on the same place in the meadow, she found the dragon had not evaporated or disappeared. Her thoughts went to Emich. Hadn’t she heard a voice?
There—beside the beast was a man. She recognized his silhouette. He swept his pale locks from his face, revealing his familiar face. It was Emich. But he made no move to run from the creature or to defend himself. And the dragon didn’t seem interested in having him for a meal either.
She held her breath in confusion, attempting to quiet the loud swishing in her ears. She watched Emich gather up the length of a knotted rope in his hands, then bend down to pick up what looked like a bowl.
“I have all the measurements I need.” His voice was soft at this distance, though she could still make out the words. Even if they didn’t make sense.
Had he just measured the dragon? And where was Rubrecht? Her head whipped around to make sure she was still alone, feeling a chill race down her spine. She couldn’t see anything but the pretty shine from the lake’s reflective surface in the dark.
If she hadn’t been confused enough already, when she turned back she saw something she couldn’t believe. The four-legged dragon began to shrink down. Its wings and tail disappeared. The scales that covered its body melted away, leaving only the pale flesh of a man hunched on the ground. He straightened up. The sneer on his face made her heart still in fear. Rubrecht.
Morgen had to get out of there. She backed up toward the house. She was only a few steps away when an owl’s hoot cut through the night sky. She saw Emich’s head turn and she felt his gaze fall on her before she could scramble inside and shut the door securely behind her. She leaned against the wooden panels, panting with fright.
She tried to catch her breath, but it was futile. Worried they might return to the house any moment, she hurried into Emich’s private quarters and latched the door shut. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for anything she could use to prop against the door, but she only spotted heavy items. Morgen wondered if Emich had any hidden weapons, but it was too dark to find anything in an unfamiliar room, so she sat on the stone floor, leaning her back against the door, and waited.
It wasn’t long before she heard their voices reenter the home. She held her breath, straining to listen.
“I will get started as soon as you are off in the morning,” Emich’s muted voice said.
“Very well, but I expect only the best.” Footsteps moved away, and she heard another door open. “I am not fond of being disappointed.”
She swallowed. Her breathing was loud in her ears, and she worried she wasn’t the only one who could hear it. A latch clicked shut, silencing any further voices. Shuffling and scratching came from the kitchen, which also quieted after a few moments.
A whisper reached her where she sat pressed to the door. “Morgen? We will talk in the morning once he has gone. If you need anything, I will remain near.”
She had no intention of leaving the room until Rubrecht had truly left. Then she would determine whether she could trust Emich or not.
The small amount of moonlight that filtered in through the small window illuminated the linen curtain hanging at the foot of the four-poster bed. For much of the night, she stared at the embroidered dragon that seemed to be staring back at her.
In the early morning twilight, Emich stood in the field beside his home, watching Rubrecht fly over the mountaintops. Emich’s relief was overshadowed by his anxiety over what lay ahead. Not only would he have to create armor for Rubrecht in four weeks’ time, but he also had to face Morgen.
The moment he’d looked up and seen her standing in the dim meadow like an opaque ghost, his heart stopped. This was why he avoided entanglement and lived alone. He should have listened to his instincts to protect his secrets from being discovered and left Morgen and Tybalt to fend for themselves. Then it would only be his life and the lives of the villagers he’d be consumed with. Somehow risking her life in the deal made it ten times worse.
As he’d sat propped against his bedroom door through the night, not sure if he’d imagined the soft sounds of breathing on the other side, he’d considered his options. He went around and around the subject, finally deciding the only way out of this was to tell her the truth. She’d seen too much to be convinced by lies. But what if she rejected him? What if she ran away to tell the villagers about the real dragon on the mountain and the valuable ore he was protecting? It would be the end of him.
He hoped Tybalt was right about his daughter’s loyalty. But where did Morgen’s loyalties lie? Emich prayed his generosity and kindness were enough for her to continue to trust him. Because he had decided to trust her.
Emich returned to the house, strode into the kitchen and raised his knuckle a span away from his bedroom door. After taking a deep, shaky breath, he knocked twice and called out, “Rubrecht has gone. It is safe to come out.”
He didn’t know whether she was sleeping or awake. He was not sure she would dare to leave his quarters. Knowing her spirited personality, he thought she would likely want to speak her mind as she often did. He hoped she would, for it was time for the truth to come out.
Soft rustling came from the other side of the door before he heard the latch lift. It opened a finger’s width, revealing a blue eye staring at him from the dim. “You swear he has gone?”
“I watched him leave,” he confirmed.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
Emich returned her stare and answered honestly. “I suppose you cannot know for sure—”
He hadn’t quite finished what he was going to say before she began to close the door, so he quickly stuck his foot out to catch it before it latched. Emich rested his hand on the wooden frame and leaned in. “Please, we should talk. I know you have questions. I will answer all that I can. But I do not wish to do so through a closed door.”
She opened it enough to glare at him, and he was quick to free his foot from where he’d lodged it so she could make up her mind without him forcing her.
Morgen’s eyes narrowed. “Fine.”
She swung open the door. A woolen blanket was draped around her shoulders. Beneath it, he could see she hadn’t yet clothed herself and wore only her underdress. Dark circles trapped her drooping eyes. Clearly he wasn’t the only one who’d had a sleepless night.
She brushed past him to sit on the bench at the dining table and sighed. “I am thirsty.”
He found her empty cup from the previous night and filled it with ale. Emich handed it to her and stepped back, waiting for her to speak.
She took a sip and wiped her mouth. “I cannot quite put into words what I am feeling or what I thought when I first saw…the dragon.” She stuttered on the word, but pushed past it quickly to continue, “Although I had been warned about Drachenberg. Why would I be surprised to see one? I crept out last night to find you. I had heard you leave and worried when you did not return. You told me to keep to the meadow and house, that I would be safe, though I did not expect you to invite that thing into your home.”
That thing. Emich tried to swallow. He started to have second thoughts about divulging the truth about himself. He went to the hearth to start a fire, needing to busy himself so he wasn’t left standing so awkwardly.
“Some of the things Rubrecht said last night about crushing animals in his jaws and snatching sheep from pastures make sense to me now—though he spoke to you as if you two were the same,” she murmured.
The time had come.
Emich closed his eyes, holding onto the fire poker. “That is because we are.
16
The bench’s feet scraped across the stone floor. Emich spun around, finding Morgen standing wide-eyed beside the table, gripping a dirty spoon as if it were a weapon.
“What?”
Emich set down the poker so he could hold up his hands in a show of peace. “I am very different from Rubrecht—I do not seek to injure others or to take that which is not mine. Besides my foul moods and poor conversation skills, have I ever given you reason to feel unsafe?”
She slowly shook her head, although he could see the fear in her eyes.
He rushed to assure her. “I would not hurt you. I will not.”
“Are you a demon, then?” she asked, her voice rising to a whisper.
“If I am, I am unaware of it. I am just like any other man, except for one difference—I can change my form.” Emich continued to keep up his hands, hoping she was not about to race from the home. “My father could change shape, as well as his father before him. How far back it goes, I do not know. The form of the dragon has been passed down through time. Though we are not the only ones to master it.”
“Rubrecht,” she whispered.
He nodded. “And others. But not all are so ready to live a quiet life.”
Her wide eyes went to the door. After a pause, she asked, “Why did you not want me to leave your meadow? Are there other dragon men in these mountains?”
Emich shook his head. “I am the only one who remains. You see, I come from a long line of smiths. And a smith without ore is like a flower without sunlight. Grandfather tunneled and found iron deposits, something we have kept hidden from knowledge since the day he built this home. We keep to ourselves—not wanting trouble with anyone.”
Her lips twisted into a sneer. “So, what did Rubrecht really want?”
He hated how she was looking at him. This was why his father had told him to keep his magic a secret. The scorn and hatred.
Emich wandered toward the table, pulled out the bench opposite Morgen and sat down slowly. Though she appeared frightened, she was awaiting an answer. He cleared his throat and leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. “I remember Rubrecht visiting my father a decade ago, and he was the same sort of man then—dangerous and hungry for action. Yesterday he came looking for my father but found me instead. He wants a weapon for his tail and dragon armor. Seems he has been having conflicts with the folk near his home, and he wants protection.”
Sirens and Scales Page 151
