I take Adom’s proffered arm and give Lord Berrel a tight nod. “Thank you for teaching me how to dance. It was a welcome distraction. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“You as well.” He smiles knowingly. “I hope we meet again, Lady Elanor. Our chat was... enlightening.” He nods at Adom and turns his back.
Adom leads me away from Lord Berrel, to a corner of the room closest to the door. He shoves a baguette into my hands. “We should have left without indulging you..”
I tuck the baguette into the dress pockets. “I learned valuable information.”
Alarm creases Adom’s forehead. His eyes linger on Lord Berrel for a brief moment, then he returns his gaze to me. He strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Somehow, I suspect the information you’re uncovering isn’t the information I need to know.”
I play with the ends of my newly cut hair. “You might be right about that.”
The pupils of his eyes shrink. He guides me from the dance hall and signals for a driver. As soon as we’re alone in the carriage, Adom swivels in the seat and puts an arm across my chair so the palm of his hand rests against the coach wall by the window, cornering me.
“Tell me what you and Lord Berrel discussed.”
Casually and calmly as ever, I pull out the baguette and rip into the tough crust while he waits. “He told me about his dragon scale business, and about Jetarna Day next week,” I inform him between bites. If he thinks he can intimidate me with the aggressive human act, he’ll be sorely disappointed. I’m already annoyed with him for failing to smuggle some of the meat ground into a dip and those crunchy, twirly snacks in a napkin. A piece of bread? Really?
“Did he ask any questions?”
I finish the bread and wipe crumbs away. “He asked where I come from and how I knew you. I told him I come from an island south of Cornoc and you were my guardian as you said.”
“What did he try to give you?”
So he spied on me? Of course he did. Adom trusts me about as much as a rickety bridge. I raise my eyes to his in silent rage. “He offered me a cheap necklace made from a stinking dragon scale, but I declined. I also told him to quit complimenting me. Again.”
Adom lowers his arm and nods. “Did you talk about anything else?”
My dancing? Superstitious Tranars? Adom’s reputation with women? I have a mouthful of things I can share with him, but somehow I suspect he’s after more specific information. “We didn’t talk about our mutual hatred of you, if that’s what you’re after.”
“You suppose Lord Berrel hates me?”
I smile brightly. “I thought that was obvious?”
Adom’s nostrils flare. “What gave it away?”
I press my index finger to the lower right corner of my lips, feigning concerted thought. “Hm. I think it was around the moment you two almost ripped me in half.”
He grunts. “Now you sound like Muuth. Sarcastic and imaginative.”
“Why does Berrel hate you?”
“I thought I was interrogating you, not the other way around.”
I straighten. “If you want my help in finding changelings, I need honesty from you. You told me before that you had enemies. That we had enemies. If Berrel is an enemy, you have to tell me why. It isn’t fair for you to withhold the truth when my life is at stake.”
He ducks his head. “There was a woman.”
“A human woman?”
“Yes.” Adom can’t seem to look me in the eye. “She died, and Berrel never forgave me.”
“You took away someone he loved?” Why does this story sound so familiar?
“His sister. I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“How did she die?”
He puts a hand on the foggy glass of the carriage window. Glass squeaks as he drags his hand down, wiping away the condensation. “A fever took her. Before she died, she asked to see me. I was on Onyx and the message didn’t reach me in time. When I returned, she was gone.”
“Did you love her?”
“It was a long time ago,” he answers abruptly, without thought.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“It isn’t relevant.”
“Did you love her?” I ask again.
He meets my eyes at last. “You of all humans should know I’m incapable of love,” he growls. “Rat, I can guess what your end game is, but if you try escaping again I’ll have to kill you.” His visage grows solemn and severe. “I’ll burn half the country to keep my sights on you.”
“So why don’t you just kill me now and be done with it?”
“Don’t tempt me,” he warns.
I dig my feet into the floor of the carriage and rock forward, fists clenched. “I’m tired of hollow threats, Adom. If you don’t trust me to keep your secrets, why am I here?”
“It isn’t just about me. The future of the herd depends your discretion and obedience.”
The future of the herd? What about my future? As long as I’m with Adom, I have no future. As he said, my life is as good as worthless unless I continue to serve him without question. Earlier he said he’d consider letting me go—now I’m certain he won’t.
~ * ~
We return to the inn, and Raina announces to Adom that they fixed up our carriage and have already loaded our supplies. He kisses her, then takes hold of my hand and pulls me to the door without a word. My gut sinks—if I enter the black carriage, it will seal my fate. I’ll become his partner in crime, his accomplice.
He guides me into the coach. All hopes of an alliance with Berrel fade.
“My position in Trana is as Count Malandre,” he instructs, once we are situated.
“I know.” I look out the window. “How’d you manage that?”
“The real Count Malandre was a recluse. He...died. Unexpectedly. I took his place.”
Died unexpectedly? Does he think I’m an idiot? I scoot as far from his side of the carriage as I can without making a scene. The last thing I want is for him to lose his temper now, while we drive through the isolated Tranar plains.
Adom grabs the seat beside my knee. “Please, El. Look at me.”
I comply. Not for long.
“We’re going to Foghum City,” he informs me softly.
My father went to Foghum a handful of times in my youth. The city of King Siles. What are you plotting? Why the king’s city? Questions I don’t dare ask.
“I need you to be my ears,” he says. “I can’t be everywhere at once.”
You mean you have scorchings.
He seems to sense my cynicism. “Why are you sulking?”
I straighten. “You just told me you’d kill me if I sought freedom. Earlier you promised to free me if I proved myself. You think your lies and threats should make me happy?”
Adom sits back in his seat. I frown, confused, as he runs a hand through raven hair. “I’m sorry, Rat,” he says. “Sometimes I can be too rough. We were discussing a sensitive subject and I live in two worlds; a world of physicality and a world of illusion. On occasion, my reactions are disproportionate to my environment.” He lowers his eyelids. “I’m still trying to adjust.”
I can’t speak for a moment. Adom is apologizing? A day ago, I’d never have believed it. Why now? What does he stand to gain by making amends?
“My name is Elanor,” I murmur. “You want me to call you Count Malandre in public? Quit calling me Rat.”
His lids snap up but he doesn’t protest. “Done.”
“Quit threatening to kill me.”
The curve of his mouth softens. “I might have to kill you, someday.”
“And I might have to kill you first,” I bark. “Let’s not discuss it anymore.”
“I’ll...try.”
I study him, anger mounting. He can’t be sincere. He wants us to get along, to keep me
passive and lure me into a false sense of safety. Just like before. I press my forehead to the glass.
After a few tense moments, I open my mouth again. But Adom’s head is bent against the window and his eyes are closed. He looks so peaceful. Younger, too. Not at all how he looks awake. How old is Adom, anyway? Too young to be a herd leader and live a second life as a fake nobleman in Trana. Too young to be both hunted and hunter. I think back to our first encounter. He seemed so grown-up, but he can’t have been that old. Maybe seventeen? Dragons don’t age like humans, do they? Another question I’ll never have a chance to ask Muuth.
The carriage jostles me as it rolls down the rickety path. The driver only stops once to let the horses cool off. Soon, cottages line nearly every street. We must be nearing Foghum.
Adom rubs his eyes. “I shouldn’t have slept,” he murmurs, but he looks much better. Then he smiles. It is a curious, unguarded look of pleasure. “You didn’t split my guts?”
“I thought about it.”
“You didn’t escape, either. I’m impressed at your self-restraint.”
“We’re almost at Foghum,” I inform him.
He glances out the window. “So we are.”
“What are your plans?”
“I’ll get us rooms at the best inn in the city.” He leans across me and flicks up the shade between us and the driver’s box. “Driver, take us to the Volcourt Inn.”
In a short while, the carriage stops. I gaze out the window. Everywhere there is madness. People shuffle past wearing bright turbans and tartans, ruffles of lace, hats of all shapes and sizes, and great clunking shoes that keep long silk dresses from trailing in mud. Colors swirl dizzyingly, a thousand peacocks whooshing around the carriage with wide mouths and angry chatter.
I hone in on one of the individuals, because trying to take them all in makes me nauseous. A young woman pushes a cart holding a clay jug of what looks like fresh milk against her hips. Her visage is fresh and smooth with clear brown eyes sparkling under a red scarf. She stops to talk to at least three people as she makes her way onward. Three people. Strangers, not family. She is confident, smiling and happy. I can’t tell if she’s close to my age or not—it’s been too long to discern those differences, but she closer to my age than Muuth for sure. Except for Raina, I haven’t seen anyone young, like me, since I was kidnapped at nine years old.
Adom glances at me. “You might want to hold my hand when we disembark.”
It would be easy to lose him in a crowd like this. I savor the thought for a moment, but as he opens the door and steps out, all ideas of escape shatter. The disorienting noise reaches my ears. Talk over talk. Feet clomping. Over there, someone shouting. Over here, someone crying.
He reaches out a hand. I take it in an instant, numbed by the chaos. He squeezes and gently helps me out of the carriage. Noise spins and follows us, inescapable.
Adom shelters me under the wing of his warm arm and points to a building looming over us like a mountain. “This is the Volcourt Inn.” he breathes into my ear, a welcome, familiar whisper in the wake of alien sound. “It isn’t far. Just a few steps further.”
I tilt my head to observe the great architecture. Awe overtakes me as I stare at its magnificent height. Clinging to Adom, I move up the steps until we approach the broad door.
Two finely dressed young men pull the massive door handle, and the hinges groan as it opens. We enter the foyer, where sparkling candelabras shine like stars overhead. I’ve seen pictures of such finery in the books Muuth showed me, as well as in Adom’s chambers. An elaborate desk rests along the wall beside a grand curving staircase. The staircase winds across the entire room revealing another, equally dazzling level. Scribbling on some parchment with a long feather quill, the host of the establishment glances up from his work and beckons for us to approach.
“Are you all right?” Adom asks me.
“I’m fine.” In this mountain of architecture, my voice sounds shriveled. Diminished. Not powerful and echoing like on Onyx.
Adom releases my hand and strolls to the proprietor’s desk. After a few moments of hushed dialogue, the man rises from his work and gestures for us to follow him. Gilded paintings hang on the walls above colorful furniture. We follow along through a vaulted corridor.
The proprietor jingles a long train of metal keys, chooses one, and unlocks the glass doorknob. This door doesn’t creak open like one at the main entrance. It glides discreetly to a standstill against the wall. We are ushered into a sitting area with tables and chairs. A set of sliding doors drawn aside reveal the bedchamber. Lamps are already lit. The walls boast decorative paper and books in a glass case.
Again, there is only one bed in the suite. Where does Adom intend for me to sleep?
“My sister and I will require meal services only once a day,” he says.
“We have the usual complimentary tray to help you recover from your journey. I can have a dinner prepared and brought up immediately. Let me know if you need anything, Count Malandre, and I will personally see to it.” The proprietor closes the door behind him.
Adom settles on a chaise with an eagle pattern stitched into it. He grins. “You look as nervous as a rat confronting a cat.” He crosses his legs, perfectly at ease.
I sit cross-legged on the floor. “I’m not used to having things in my room. Anyway, you said you would get us rooms earlier. Why are we sharing again?”
“I reconsidered. It’s better for you to stay close to me. The city might seem like a safe place to hide, but I can track you anywhere, Elanor.” He touches his nose. “Your scent.”
I glare, certain he means it as an insult. Shifting positions, I lean against the leg of a broad armchair. “I’m not your sister any more than I am your wench.”
“You objected to the other word. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Besides, it won’t look natural if we don’t have some reason to share a room,” he explains.
“I wonder what human society would think about the dragon den.” All those unmarried males and females, piled on top of each other. The chair leg begins to dig into my back. I squirm to find a less awkward brace.
“They probably wouldn’t approve,” he agrees, and frowns. “You could have borrowed things from my chambers at any time on Onyx. You never had to make do with so little.”
With the blandest look I can muster, in spite of emotions boiling beneath the surface, I say, “Did you think I’d accept charity from my family’s murderer?”
Adom’s cheeks bloom into a nasty shade of magenta. For a moment, I worry he’ll change. Then he takes a deep breath. His coloring returns to normal. “Never mind.”
My stomach growls, reminding me we have more important matters to focus on. “I’m hungry,” I complain. “A roll isn’t exactly a full meal, you realize.”
Adom arches an eyebrow. “We’ll have to remedy your current state.” Then he shoots me a leveling look. “If you’re willing to accept charity from your family’s murderer?”
“I prefer to think of this as stealing.”
He doesn’t look pleased. Without rising, he points to a tray in the corner with an accusing finger, the curve of his lips thin. “The tray is there.”
The silver dish displays slices of bread, cheeses, and dried meats. I rise and pour a glass of dark red liquid. It tickles my nose and burns in my throat.
“Wine,” Adom says as he watches me.
“I hate it,” I growl, coughing. “It doesn’t taste like water.”
“Most things don’t.”
I bite into the bread. “It’s bland.”
“You’re impossible to please.” Adom advances, wearing a lopsided smile. He picks up a small knife and coats it with a yellow substance on the side of the tray. Then he smears it on the bread. Next, he dips the knife in an amber syrup. “You should recognize this.”
“Honey?” I ask. “But how
did he get all this honey away without the bees stinging him?” Wincing, I think of my few experiences with the coveted sweet stuff. I tried stealing from the bees in the Forest of Four… and failed miserably.
“They have experts trained in that profession.” He smears honey over the bread. “Try this. It’s bread with butter and honey and a pinch of cinnamon.”
I take a bite. Then another. It tastes like being reunited with a long-lost friend. I can’t get enough of the stuff. Soon, I finish off the entire tray.
Someone knocks on the door. Adom calls for the person to enter.
“Sorry to bother you, my lord,” says the proprietor. “Someone left you a letter at the front registry.” The man produces a parchment sealed with wax.
“Thank you.” He takes the parchment, shuts the door. I see Adom frown as he paces forward and examines the wax blob. The seal is an orange flame. I remember a notice my Papa once received at the farm, sealed with the mark of a local lord. Whose sign is that?
Adom catches me staring. He shifts away and tears open the letter in haste. I watch emotions flicker across his countenance as he reads its contents.
“What is it?”
He shakes his head. “Another time.”
“So much for honesty.”
He doesn’t bother to respond.
FOUR
When I awaken, the sun’s dying rays visit the room in a last, failing effort. Adom is sprawled across the chaise, softly snoring. I extend my cramped legs and creep closer. He must be exhausted. Aside from the brief nap in the carriage, Adom hadn’t slept since we reached Trana. He stayed away from the room all last night. And where had he gone? To entertain Raina?
The letter hangs from his hand, its seal now broken, parchment crinkled.
I lean close, not daring to breathe, and grasp the mysterious document. Inch by inch, I ease it out of his grip. He doesn’t stir. After several moments of watching his ribs expand and contract, I move into a corner, and open the letter.
Slayer, it reads. Claron is gone. Decimated by dragon scorchings. I made contact with Leviathan and Cinderrider, and a third, a purple-speckled hunter. – Fire Breather
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