The Red Dragon Girl (Firethorn Chronicles Book 3)

by Lea Doué

  “We’ll just have to wait until later to see.” He paused, studying her face. “I could always stay here with True and the dragons… if that’s what you want.”

  She’d left him behind once. If she did it again, she might never see him again, and that thought knocked the breath out of her like a fall from a horse.

  Chapter Eleven

  Could Mel go on and leave Orin behind? Well, of course she could. Not long ago she had been itching to be on her own, but she’d discovered quickly that solitude was overrated. Without realizing when, she’d already made her decision. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  Orin’s lips twitched, almost a smile, but his gaze bore into hers. “You were quick enough to leave Osha without me. And Ituria, too, for that matter. Why the change now?”

  The words to answer him refused to form into a coherent thought, so she deflected the question. “Why did you follow me if you thought I was leaving you behind?”

  He shrugged. “You never told me not to. I’ll follow you anywhere unless you tell me you don’t want me.” He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall next to her. “I love to see the world through your eyes when we’re together. The air comes alive when you’re around.”

  She chuckled. “How poetic.”

  He grinned. “The truth is, you see me, Melantha. You take me seriously. You listen. I feel like I could do anything if I’ve got you by my side. I don’t ever want to be without you.”

  Wow. She still had no words, but every breath brought a tickle to her chest like she might giggle. She hadn’t giggled since she was a little girl.

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “You know I don’t like mushy talk.” She cleared her throat. “The change is because… you let me be myself. Not Princess Melantha, Fourth Daughter of Ituria, freckled twin of Mara-who-makes-the-best-chocolates-in-the-world, descendant of the soldier-king. I can be my real self with you…”

  His eyes twinkled in the torchlight, and she lost her train of thought.

  She put her hands to her cheeks to check that they weren’t actually on fire. “Out of all the people in my life, you’re the first person I thought of when they chained me to that pole. And when I saw you running into the clearing…” She swallowed. “I thought we were both…”

  He pulled her into a hug, and she tucked her face into his shoulder, enjoying his warmth and strength. They stood that way for several minutes in silence. Finally, he pulled back and tilted her chin up. Leaning down, he kissed her softly and then whispered against her lips, “Tell me we don’t ever have to be parted again. Marry me?”

  She gasped and wiggled out of his embrace. “Marriage? How can I say… I mean, leaping into a commitment… considering our circumstances… with the curse….” Did she want to say yes? She didn’t want to say no. She gulped. “Ask me again when this is all over?”

  His voice lowered and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Count on it.”

  “I’ll see you in the morn— uh, later tonight.” She held his gaze until the door snicked shut between them, and then she leaned her forehead against the rough wood. She knew Orin well enough to feel confident that her response to his proposal wouldn’t ruin their friendship, but he deserved better than her awkward non-answer. Next time he asked, and she certainly hoped there would be a next time, she would have to be prepared.

  *

  Orin knocked on the door far too early. Or late, depending on how one looked at it. Mel had tossed and turned for a long while before drifting off to sleep and dreaming of golden-haired children and an army of messenger dragons.

  Despite the promise of a basket large enough to carry them all, Orin brought the smaller one for True and the dragons. Mel tucked in the slings with a few personal items he’d stored in the bottom, and then they layered blankets and the dressing gown on top. The dragons came when called by name, inspected the basket thoroughly, and then climbed inside with True and arranged themselves in her feathers. With fewer supplies in the bottom, they ended up being deeper and more secure in the basket than before, and Orin had designed a proper canvas flap to cover the top. They left it open for the walk to the courtyard.

  Keir waited in dragon form with Baz and the two guards who’d been there when they first landed. As soon as he saw Vanda, Baz dismissed the guards, who stationed themselves outside the double doors, well out of hearing range.

  Mel lifted True out to graze. The goose wandered around biting grass while the little dragons peeked out of the basket. Jade squawked at Keir, and he lowered his head to meet her eye to eye.

  She stared. Blinked. Glanced from True to the giant black dragon a few times. After sniffing the air, she chirped and fluttered down to join her foster mother. The other two dragons exhibited similar behavior, with Fleet doing more sniffing and Hunter more blinking.

  “I guess we won’t need the oil,” Mel said.

  “I expected a little more drama,” Orin said. “Could their having flown with Keir while still in egg form have made him easier to accept now?”

  Mel shrugged. “Possibly. It’s one less thing to worry about, at least.”

  Baz spoke as he watched True. “One of the servants will wait until noon to send the palace messenger dragon back to Father with a note that we’re on our way. It should give us a slight lead before anyone realizes we’re heading in the wrong direction.”

  Mel and the others followed him to Keir’s far side. An enormous golden-brown basket lay on the cobblestones, tightly woven like the kind used for storing grain, and larger than any she’d ever seen. They would be able to sit up easily, but their legs would likely be cramped. A smaller basket hugged the side, lashed to it with sturdy ropes.

  She was going to be carted around like a goose in a back pack.

  “It’s the best we could do on such short notice.” Baz took Orin’s weapons and tucked them into the smaller storage basket before securing the lid with more ropes. “It’s sturdy—Keir has already practiced getting into the air with it—and far more secure than any four-person saddle we could devise. We weren’t able to rig anything else without using so many cords and ropes that it would hinder his wings.”

  Vanda stood on her tiptoes and inspected the inside. “This will protect us from the wind, too.”

  Considering she’d taken the brunt of it during their previous flights, she had a good point.

  “There’s just enough room to put the goose’s basket in the center, and we’ll arrange ourselves around it,” Baz said.

  Mel tried to stay positive. “The dragons can stretch their wings if they want.” She wiped her sweaty palms on her cloak.

  Orin inspected the ropes and leather straps arranged in strategic spots through the basket’s weave. “How do we get it on Keir’s back?”

  “It’s heavy,” Baz said, “But we can pull it up using the straps.”

  Keir crouched low on his belly and extended his wings up and out. Hunter watched and mimicked his actions, tweaking his stance here and there until satisfied with his pose. Not to be outdone, Jade and Fleet joined in.

  Mel grinned at the copycats. Such smart babies.

  Baz threw the ropes over Keir’s back, and then he and Orin crossed to the other side and hauled up the basket. Keir nudged it higher with his elbow. After tying off the ropes, two in front of the wings like a breastplate and two behind under his belly, they stood back to inspect their work.

  Mel gathered True and settled her into her basket, and the little dragons followed without being called. She scratched them under the chin and secured the top flap. What adorable geniuses. But, of course, their foster mother was exceptional herself. Rather unusually perceptive and mellow for a goose, come to think of it.

  Orin used Keir’s leg to boost himself up and climbed into the larger basket, and then he dropped a rope ladder over the side. Vanda scurried up.

  Mel shouldered the pack basket. She put her hands on her hips and stared up at the clear star-filled sky. No s
ign of clouds or rain, thankfully. She eyed Keir’s basket as she would a skittish horse.

  Baz gave her a leg up. She imagined the ladder led to a tree fort and Keir’s black scales were an exotic type of bark, which worked fine until the basket’s woven walls surrounded her. Did potatoes get claustrophobic?

  Orin took True’s basket from her and placed it in the middle. Baz joined them and unrolled a canvas tarp over the top, securing the sides with more rope. The warm light from the courtyard torches disappeared, as did the stars.

  “We’ve put in some handholds for takeoff and landing,” Baz said.

  Mel searched and immediately found the leather straps by her hips. She pulled her shirtsleeves down to protect her still-tender wrists before looping her hands through and holding on tightly.

  Orin found her hand in the dark and squeezed hard.

  Keir stood. Mel squealed and then swallowed it down before she startled the dragons.

  “It’s all right,” Baz said, his voice low and soft. “He’s walking around the courtyard to test the ropes before taking off.”

  Breathe in. Breathe out. Was the basket supposed to make them feel safer? If so, it wasn’t working.

  Keir flapped his wings slowly. Shook. Stomped his feet. Each movement created a mini earthquake inside the basket, and Mel gritted her teeth and leaned forward to minimize the impact against her head. He ran a few steps, but the courtyard limited his strides. Finally, he stopped.

  Mel’s heartbeat thumped loudly in her ears.

  “We’re ready to go,” Baz said. “Hold on.”

  Keir dropped off the edge of the cliff, and Mel’s stomach stayed behind. He glided down and down and down, and then flapped and flapped until he’d gained soaring height. The weave of the basket pressed into her skin through her leggings.

  True squawked, almost a whisper and difficult to hear over the roaring of the wind against the basket. One of the dragons burped, and Orin chuckled.

  “I see nothing funny about this,” Mel said through clenched teeth.

  Baz snorted like he was trying to hold back a laugh. When Orin let loose, he lost control and their boisterous noise filled the small, dark space. Despite her nausea, Mel’s lips twitched, and she rolled her eyes. Boys.

  Once the last chuckles died down, Baz pulled out a glowing scale. It lit his dark face like a handful of moonlight. At least she wouldn’t have to fly with her eyes closed. She opened the pack basket and the dragons crawled out. True’s head popped up and she glanced around until her gaze fell on Fleet.

  Hwonk!

  Fleet ducked his head away from the edge of the fluttering canvas, and Jade gave him a shove as if she hadn’t been about to poke her head out, too. He fell into Baz’s lap, climbed over knees until he found Vanda, and draped himself around the back of her neck.

  Perfect. They could pass the time training the dragons, which would distract Mel from the horror of flying.

  “Jade. Here.” She patted her knee. Jade hop-flapped over, and Baz ducked to the side to avoid her wings.

  “Don’t you need to offer her a piece of food?” Orin asked.

  “She’ll take it if I offer, but learning a new command or completing a task successfully is a reward in itself.”

  “Do they actually learn to understand what we say?” Vanda asked.

  “Yes. Very much of it. Once they learn words, you can move on to sentences. By the time they’re a year old, they’re ready for short missions, and they progress quickly after that.”

  Ignoring the stomach-churning turbulence, she coached Orin and Vanda as they reinforced simple commands and taught a few new ones. Still being so young, the dragons tired after about half an hour. Not nearly long enough to keep her distracted for the whole trip.

  Jade fluttered up and perched on the edge of the pack basket. She chirped and looked from Mel to True several times.

  Did she want to know her foster mother’s name? “That’s True. Find True.”

  Jade circled the basket’s edge, balancing carefully, and then dropped inside. She patted True on the head with a front foot, her gaze fixed on Mel.

  “Very good!” Mel stroked her cheek. “Such a smart girl. Now, go on to sleep.”

  With a smug look on her face, the dragon curled up and closed her eyes.

  Vanda and Orin repeated the new name with their dragons, who both figured it out after a few attempts.

  “Amazing,” Baz said. He’d been a spectator and a destination during the session. “I’ve sent dragons with messages countless times, but I never knew what went into training them.”

  Mel nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her stomach lurched, and she had nothing to take her mind off it now.

  Orin put an arm around her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  “This basket is worse than the saddle. At least then I was distracted by the wind and just hanging on.”

  “It really bothers you that badly?” Vanda said. “I find traveling this way far better than balancing on Keir’s back. I thought the wind and his wings would knock me right off.”

  Orin retrieved a palm-sized book from the bottom of the basket. “I’ll read, and you rest the best you can.” Baz handed him the scale light.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder and focused on his voice as he read a story about the origin of the Travelers that included a spelled tablecloth, a girl with a tattoo, and people searching for a place to belong. As a child, the story had sounded so magical. Would someone read about them someday and think the same thing?

  Without meaning to, she fell asleep.

  *

  Baz woke them all a few hours later. “Keir says there’s a storm ahead.”

  Orin stretched out his legs over Mel’s knees and yawned. He sat up. “Can we detour around it?”

  They waited while Baz spoke silently with Keir. “It’s possible, but it would take us far from our current path and there’s no guarantee we could get around it before it slams into us.”

  “We could fly over it,” Vanda said. “I don’t want to delay getting to Gram.”

  “Perhaps,” Baz said. “The clouds don’t look high.”

  “I think we should land and wait it out.” Mel wanted to get to the tower as quickly as any of them, but she had no desire to fly in a storm.

  “You’re wasting time arguing,” Vanda said.

  Mel frowned. “Well, I—”

  “She’s talking to Keir,” Orin whispered.

  Vanda’s gaze focused towards the front of the basket. She hadn’t seemed to hear Mel. Her brows drew together and her lips tightened in an angry pout.

  “He’s already been flying for four hours,” Baz said, thankfully speaking aloud rather than mind-talking. “Trying to fly over a storm when he’s already tired isn’t the best idea.”

  Vanda glanced at him and then turned her face away, clearly still talking to Keir. Finally, she said, “It’s up to him.”

  A few moments passed. No one said what decision had been made, but Keir flapped in great bursts that pressed them down and backward in the basket.

  Mel looped her wrists in the leather straps. “I guess that answers our question.”

  True honked her disapproval from the pack basket, but she didn’t bother to peek out.

  “I agree,” Mel told her. “I hope we don’t regret this.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mel’s ears popped as Keir ascended rapidly, trying to fly over the storm clouds. She squeezed her eyes shut but immediately opened them again. She’d see nothing outside, either way.

  Hunter and Fleet peered wide-eyed from their basket. True crooned and they ducked back inside. Orin secured the top flap.

  The wind gusted, clawing at the canvas cover and spitting rain inside. It knocked Keir around, turning their smooth soaring into a bone-jarring ride. Thunder boomed and lightning lit up the basket like a thousand glowing cave dragons. Mel wanted to cover her mouth and her ears at the same time, but she wouldn’t let go of the straps.

  �
�Tell Keir to land now!” Orin shouted.

  “I have been, but he won’t listen!” Baz said.

  Mel turned to Vanda. “You tell him.”

  She shook her head. “He can make it!”

  “Can and should are two different things!”

  Lightning sparked on top of a crash of thunder, followed by a bellowing roar from Keir that vibrated the basket. They plummeted, and Mel swallowed hard against a scream. Were they falling or was Keir still in control?

  “That bolt almost got his wing,” Baz said.

  Mel let go of the straps and turned around on her knees. She needed fresh air, just for a second. Lifting a flap of canvas between the tie-down ropes, she peeked out and gulped cold, wet air like a diver surfacing from the ocean. Rain pelted her eyes, and another flash of lightning outlined Keir’s form.

  “Hold on!” Vanda yelled.

  Keir tucked his wings and dove, throwing Mel and everyone else to the back of the basket. She ended up in Orin’s lap, and they clung to each other in the darkness. The glowing scale had been knocked underneath something.

  Hours from dawn and in the middle of nowhere once again, Keir finally slowed and extended his wings in a smooth glide. He hovered and then landed with a crack of breaking branches and a jarring thump.

  “We should stay in the basket for now,” Baz said. “Putting up the tents in this storm would be pointless.”

  Keir’s feet splashed in water as he walked. The rain eased on the top of the canvas, falling in plops and drips rather than a steady drumbeat.

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” Mel fumbled with the knots tying down the canvas, but the rope had become soaked and she couldn’t loosen them.

  Baz crawled over and helped untie a few while Keir crouched. Not bothering with the ladder, she squeezed out the gap and slid down into the mud.

  “Hurry back,” Baz called.

  Fresh mud pulled at her boots as she stumbled a few yards away and threw up. She had no intention of getting back into the basket, no matter how hard the rain beat her down. Instead, she pulled up her hood and followed Keir until he stopped and wiggled himself into a bed of ferns underneath a cluster of giant trees. He laid his head down and closed his eyes, and the basket moved gently up and down with his breathing.