Chapter Seventeen
Kinna
One morning a week after the return from the Griffon Pass, Lincoln nudged Kinna from the fire, taking his place next to the fish that simmered on the stone. “I'll finish this,” he said cheerfully. “Go do something fun.”
Kinna stared at him. “Fun?”
“Yes. Don't you remember fun? Jollity? Hilariousness? Me?”
A brief grin stretched Kinna's lips. She was ashamed to realize that the sensation felt foreign. “What's the occasion?”
“It's your birthday, m'lady.”
Her mouth dropped open. “How did you know?” She herself had forgotten all about it. Today, she turned eighteen. A sharp stab of homesickness shot through her.
“A Pixie's ways are never clear,
So just don't ask me anything, dear.
I have my ways; please leave it there;
Enjoy your birthday, m'lady fair.”
Ayden raised his head from where he sat next to the river some distance away. He pushed himself to his feet and ambled toward the fire, his gloves stuffed awkwardly in the pockets of his breeches. “Happy birthday, Kinna.”
She pinched the blue cotton of her gown between her fingers, searching for imaginary wrinkles. “Thank you,” she mumbled.
When she looked up, Ayden was already far away, wading through the tall grasses toward the cliffs and Chennuh's canyon. She didn't see him for the rest of the day.
Two more weeks of strained silence passed. Not that their relationship hadn't been fraught with tension since they'd first met at the Dragon arena, but this was ... different.
Ayden hadn't offered any explanation for the strange death of the Griffon cattle owner, and Kinna hadn't asked. She feared what lay beneath his gloves, and then hated herself for her fear. But most of all, her heart tore in two at the hurt that traced his silver gaze when he looked at her. She’d had no idea. He'd buried his pain too deeply for her to see.
Kinna's eyesight blurred in tears of pity.
“M'lady?” Lincoln's soft voice pulled her attention away from Ayden as he lowered himself ledge by ledge toward Chennuh.
“Yes?”
“What happened at the Griffon Pass that leaves you so distressed? You've been back now three weeks, and you still startle every time the lad even twitches.” He glanced significantly at Ayden's blond head below them.
Kinna blinked, straightening, her hand moving to her tangled hair. Her lack of comb was showing. She'd tried to keep the brilliant clusters of curl braided, but the thick strands kept working free, and she was too impatient to keep reweaving it.
“Nothing, Lincoln. We—took two cows and brought them back.”
Lincoln shook his head, pinching his orange hair between his fingers, spiking it in tufts across his head.
“Ye can jest and ye can lie,
But I'll find out soon, by and by.”
Lincoln lay on his back, his hands clasped behind his head, his gaze on the gray sky above them. A crude leather mantle blanketed his thin form. It wasn't the first time Kinna had been thankful that Ayden had extra wraps with him. The wind could be bitter outside the canyon. She huddled under her own mantle, grateful for the added warmth.
Ayden had finally implemented moving into the canyon with Chennuh. “It's going to get colder before it gets warmer,” he'd said. “Snow will blanket the Rues, and the warmest spot will be right next to a Dragon.”
Lincoln had refused to leave the top ledges, not wishing to get anywhere close to Chennuh, but Ayden and Kinna had gone daily to the floor of the canyon, gradually making inroads into the Dragon's defenses.
Chennuh would watch them now without blasting fire in their direction. He would dip his snout and eat chunks of meat as Ayden or Kinna dropped them onto the canyon floor, but only if they backed up several paces. His wing would still flutter frenetically now and again when he tried to fly, and he would huff with impatience when it refused to work correctly.
Kinna could now see what Ayden had done when he had first reattached the wing. Every morning, Lincoln would sing his song, and Chennuh would flop down into a deep slumber. Then Ayden would climb onto the Dragon's side and squat over the root of the wing, touching his bare hands to the mirrored scales, which would darken in a ripple from his touch.
“It doesn't hurt him?” she'd asked the first time she'd seen the process.
His jaw had tightened as he glanced at her. “No, it doesn't hurt him. Dragons are the only living creatures I can touch.” Bitterness scarred his words.
The awkwardness only grew. She wished she could do something about it.
Lincoln's sing-song voice interrupted Kinna's meandering thoughts. “You can talk to me, you know, m'lady.” Pixie magic drifted through his words. “'It's said that there is powerful healing in sharing your confidence with a Pixie.”
The spell was broken. Kinna snorted. “It's not said. I've never heard of such a saying.”
Lincoln sat up and grinned at her. “Those very words just came out of my mouth. Therefore, it was said.”
“Fine. But I still maintain that there is nothing wrong.”
Lincoln watched her, his eyes lazy and playful, but beneath the playfulness lurked a deeper concern. “As you wish, m'lady. But I'll get it out of you yet.”
“Look at this.” Ayden's voice broke into their conversation, and Kinna whirled, flinching backward as she realized how close he stood to her.
Hurt slashed through his eyes, and instant mortification bit deep into Kinna.
“I—I'm sorry.” She stumbled over her words, and her mind searched for something that would make the situation better.
“Forget it.” He tossed a hunk of meat onto a nearby stone. “For supper. Chennuh kindly roasted this for me.”
Kinna's eyes widened. “You got him to do it?”
Ayden sat and pulled off a portion of the meat, tossing it to her. She noticed he was careful not to get close to her, despite the gloves that covered his hands.
She caught the meat and tore off a chunk with her teeth. “My mother would be horrified,” she said as she swallowed. “Eating without utensils.”
“There is only a Pixie and a Dragondimn to care,” Lincoln commented as he dug into his own chunk of meat.
“How did you get Chennuh to roast the meat?” Kinna asked Ayden.
Ayden shrugged. “I got too close to his talons. He's sensitive about them, and he shot a fireball at me, which I dodged. It happened to be right in front of the meat, and it seared it nicely.”
Kinna glanced down at the Dragon where he tore into the last of the two cows below. It would sustain him another week or two, but then Ayden would have to return to the Griffon Pass for another forage. She dreaded the thought.
The sky darkened as they ate, and finally Kinna leaned against the ledge, pulling her hair over her shoulder and trying to sort through the mass of tangled curls with her fingers.
“Oh.” Ayden wiped his fingers on his breeches and reached inside one of his pockets. “Happy birthday. Sorry it's a couple of weeks late.” He pulled out a small piece of wood and tossed it to her. She caught it.
It was a comb, crudely whittled, the teeth slightly crooked, but it was evidence of several hours of painstaking work.
Kinna raised her eyes to Ayden's. He shrugged. “I noticed you were having trouble getting the tangles out. Thought you might like it.”
In his eyes, she read raw pain. He dropped his gaze and stuffed his hands in his pockets, turning away from her. Tension lined his shoulders. Here he was, probably for the first time in his life, reaching out, touching another person, even if it wasn't physical. If she rejected him now, he would never fully recover.
She pushed herself to her feet and walked toward him. He turned at the sound of her movement and watched her warily. She stopped in front of him. “Here,” she said. “You comb it.”
He stared at her. “Kinna, I—”
“Please?”
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It was a gesture of trust, and recognition of that fact flared in his eyes. Slowly, he reached out his gloved hand and took the comb. She sat down on the ledge facing away from him, spreading her hair across her back, closing her eyes as she felt the comb in the thickness of her tresses.
Now and then, his glove rested on her shoulder as the comb's teeth worked through the strands; sometimes his hand flinched back if the leather accidentally brushed the bare skin of her neck. She was careful not to move, not to open her eyes or to betray any sign of nervousness.
Eventually, the comb flowed freely through her hair, and when she opened her eyes and took it from his glove, heat rushed through her cheeks. She raised one hand to cover her face. “I must have been sitting too near the fire.”
He said nothing, but his silver eyes watched her, guarded and careful.
She lowered her gaze. “Thank you,” she said, so softly she could hardly hear it. She turned away and pulled herself up to the next ledge and then over the peak to the rocky outside of the canyon, out of sight.
Huddling against the rough canyon wall, she pulled her knees to her chest and allowed the frigid night wind to dry the tears that washed her cheeks.
* * *
Kinna couldn't sleep that night. She lay on the rocky ledge and thought ruefully of her mattress at home filled with fresh-smelling dried hay. There was nothing comfortable about this ledge, even with the mantle wrapped around her and the embers of the fire glowing warm across her face.
Lincoln turned over in his sleep, throwing his arm across her ankle, mumbling something about specks of gravel in his tea.
She pushed herself up on her elbow to glance down at him. His face was nearly buried in the sole of her foot. She gently pulled her leg out from under his arm, and glanced over at Ayden. He always slept far away, though that meant he suffered from the cold. She understood why now, though. He couldn't risk brushing against one of them in the depths of his sleep. His lips were parted; his face was completely relaxed. One gloved hand curled into a fist and tucked beneath his chin. He looked so innocent and boyish that a lump rose in Kinna's throat. She resisted the urge to brush her fingers through his thick blond curls.
A grunt below them told her that Chennuh was also restless. Heavy footfalls beat the canyon floor. He was impatient again.
Kinna stood, tucking her mantle about her, and leaned down to pick up the cool end of a stick whose other end glowed in the fire. She neared the ledge and dropped down onto the next rim, then again, and again.
As she progressed toward the canyon floor, she could make out the rippling blackness of Chennuh's dark form. When he caught sight of her glowing stick, he stopped. The reflection of the stick and the residue of the glow on Kinna's face reflected in Chennuh's eyes and in the million tiny scales that covered his body.
Kinna stopped on the ledge above Chennuh, sitting and scooting to the edge, over which she swung her feet. She rested the stick beside her. The glowing coals were slowly fading to black, but enough remained that she could still see their reflection in Chennuh's eyes.
She didn't have the gift of Pixie song and verse: she couldn't weave magic into her words, but it didn't matter.
She hummed a low, soothing melody. It floated on the night air, slipping softly across the rock ledges and onto the canyon floor. It was a tune Kinna knew from her childhood, a simple lullaby, but in the release of the song, she began to feel the healing of her hurts. For so long she had felt like an outcast to the Pixies; she had been unable to pull together an identity, something that said, I'm Kinna, Pixiedimn. She had felt like a failure, knowing she had let her parents down, causing Tristan to lose his place of importance in their society. It had been all her fault.
Chennuh had grown very still. The glow where his mouth closed loosely over his razor sharp fangs flickered, wafting heat toward Kinna, thawing her cold feet.
Kinna finished singing and sighed, but her heart was lighter. The Dragon felt like home. She didn't know why, she couldn't explain it even to herself, but sitting in front of this dangerous fire-breather, she felt completely at rest.
“I wonder sometimes, Chennuh, if we're not more alike than we think.” Kinna whispered through the darkness. Chennuh's huge face came closer as she spoke. She kept her voice low, soothing. “You were forced into a Dragon keep where you didn't belong, denied your potential—a great beast with the freedom of the skies. You were forced to submit to the drudgery of chains and commands all day and all night, and I'll bet you nearly forgot what the sky looked like. Or the stars at night tucked into their velvet black folds. You can see them now, Chennuh.” Kinna glanced up, taking in the cold winter night. To the north the moon was coated in clouds, but in all other directions, the sky was pinpointed with fiery stars. She counted the constellations. Fearris was the most familiar one with its tricorn hat, but she recognized some of the others that winked gently down at her as well.
“There's Dragon-Mother, the great winged serpent,” Kinna continued, feeling the heat of Chennuh's breath as he drew closer. She knew she should be nervous, should even be scrambling up the ledges and out of reach, but something kept her from it. She couldn't name it, she couldn't even describe it. She simply knew that she needed to stay. “And Valkyrie's Burden. Over there, King's Creed lies.”
With a heavy heat, mirrored scales touched her lap. Kinna started, but immediately stilled as she slowly lowered her head to look at Chennuh.
The great Dragon's eyes were directly in front of her. If she leaned forward, spreading her whole body across his snout, she would be able to touch them. The tip of his mouth rested on her knees, and his scorching heat soaked through the mantle that separated her flesh from his scales.
Kinna was shocked, but she didn't dare breathe. She didn't want to break the spell that somehow had drawn Chennuh to her and woven them together in some sort of binding collusion. She watched the Dragon, and he watched her, neither moving.
Then Chennuh gave a soft huff, and smoke curled up around Kinna's face. She bit back a cough, determined to maintain eye contact. Her gaze watered. A moment later, she lifted her hand and placed it, very gently, on the Dragon's sensitive snout.
A deep, rolling growl came from the Dragon's belly, and the wings flapped once. More smoke curled up from his nostrils, cloaking Kinna's arm. The snout was hot to the touch, but not burning, and Kinna was dizzy with euphoria. Her fractured heart that had struggled with belonging slowly began to pull its jagged edges together.
“How under the Great Star did you get him to do that?”
Ayden's voice startled both of them. Kinna jerked her hand back, and Chennuh lurched away, his still-healing wing trailing behind him.
“You scared him!”
“I scared him?” The clouds had uncovered the moon's glow and Ayden's eyes flashed silver lightning at her. “I woke up to discover you were gone, heard your singing, and came down to find you nose to nose with a beast that could have been just a smidgen hungrier and opened his huge maw for you to fall in.”
Kinna shook her head. “He wouldn't do that.”
“How do you know he wouldn't?” He jerked his arm toward Chennuh where the Dragon had curled up against the opposite side of the canyon.
Kinna shrugged. “I just do. I have a sense.”
“You have no sense, Kinna! You didn't know. You might have died. You just took your life in your own hands and... ” He stopped, running his glove through his hair.
Kinna scrambled to her feet and straightened her gown with an irritated jerk. She stalked toward him, her hands balled into fists. He was ruining the moment. She had finally connected on some deeper level with Chennuh and had begun to find herself again. “And what, Ayden? All right, I might have died. I knew I wouldn't, but that doesn't matter. Chennuh may have belched a fireball and hit me in all the wrong places, and I might have burned to death. What's the real problem here?” She reached out, gripping his glove, even when he tried to pull back. “Are you
jealous of my time with Chennuh? Is that it? If that's the case, you can have the Dragon. I'm not from the Clan; I can't achieve psuche with him anyway. Go ahead and achieve your psuche, and may you be very happy together.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her thoughts scattered before what she really wanted to say. “I'm glad to know that the Dragon is all you care about.”
“All I care about?” His mouth snapped shut, his lips pressed together. Kinna felt the fury of his gaze, slowly changing its intensity from anger to despair to pain to fear to a depth of emotion that wouldn't play out in words.
That nameless emotion filled the space between them, settling there, silent.
Kinna had not released his glove. Slowly, she brought his hand up, uncurled his fingers one by one, her hand brushing over the leather that covered them. He tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip. When his hand was splayed open, she traced her fingers from the palm to the outer edges of each one, blushing in the darkness, wondering what he was thinking. Taking a deep breath, praying for courage, she bent her head and touched her lips to the palm of the glove. She raised her eyes to meet his.
He stood unmoving, his gaze unreadable in the moonlight, his breath coming in short, sharp spurts. Slowly, he pulled his hand from hers and gently closed her fingers over her palm, returning her arm to her side. He let go and took a step back, pulling in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “It would never work, Kinna.”
His cold, silver eyes surveyed her, and the tentative foundation for Kinna's dream castle crumbled into dust at her feet.
Of course, it couldn't work. But Kinna had gone too far. She had allowed herself to acknowledge the feelings that had spun her in their web, and now there was no way to free herself from the silken, deadly entanglements.
She'd lost something before she'd even found it.
And the pain of it rent her heart in two.
Kindle the Flame (Heart of a Dragon Book 1) Page 19
