A Storm of Shadows (Fates and Fables #3)

41. Dryston

Chapter 41

Dryston

“ I don’t need an entire wardrobe,” Onora grumbled as she pulled on her shoes.

Dryston waited patiently for her, raising a brow, looking over her clothes. They were basic linen, shapeless, and rough materials. They were youth-sized clothes made for patients at the hospital. They hit her in odd spots. Her body was more filled out than many youths, but her height was relatively similar, so it had been the closest they had.

She stood, waving a hand down her front. “It’s not like I’ll be wearing this forever, just while I’m here.”

And how long would that be? He didn’t bother asking. He hoped avoiding the question meant her stay would be prolonged, but he also feared she would bolt at the first chance. She was free to go now, but where?

“You need more clothes. Besides, there’s no telling how long you’ll be here.”

“Are you planning on kidnapping me?” she asked, following him out the door and down the cavernous halls.

“No, I’ll leave the kidnapping to you. You’re much better at it.”

They meandered to the business district, stopping every few minutes for someone to greet Dryston, and consequently her, then for others to ask him questions or bring their problems to him. He answered them patiently, often redirecting them to someone else or saying that they should set up a meeting for another time.

“You’re busier than I thought a lord would be,” she said after the tenth person waved goodbye, promising to stop by his office later.

Dryston sighed. “Yeah. Sometimes I wish I could run away.”

“They trust you.”

Dryston glanced at her. “Careful there. That sounded dangerously close to something like respect.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it, and Dryston would be lying if he didn’t stand taller in the shine of her approval. If he didn’t want to chase that feeling further, devoting himself to garnering more compliments like that.

They came to the tailor, a bustling and ornate shop with velvet couches, gold gilded mirrors, and oak wood imported from the realm of light. The owner, Talin, greeted them warmly with a kiss on each cheek. Dryston was shocked to see Onora endure it with nothing more than a blank look of shock. Behind him was Melina, who Dryston had heard was immediately snatched up by Talin after he saw her walking in the market wearing one of her own dresses. By the way they interacted with one another, Dryston could see they were getting along well.

“I hear that you need a new wardrobe,” Talin said to Onora, who shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

“Not a whole new wardrobe, just some basics. Plain. Nothing too expensive or flashy,” she said.

“She needs a new wardrobe, plain basics as well as whatever else you dream up and catches her eye,” Dryston said.

Onora grabbed him by the arm, turning him around and whispering, “I can’t afford that. I actually can’t afford the basics, but I’m willing to pay you back once I find a way to earn it.”

“You’re not paying for any of this.”

“Pray tell, who is then?”

“Me. And it’s nothing. Anything you like, really, Onora.”

“No. Just the basics, and I’ll pay you back.”

They stared at each other, her glaring and him unyielding. She crossed her arms, and he crossed his. Her nostrils flared but he turned back to Talin.

“She only wants the basics, plain and cheap and not flashy,” he said and heard a sigh of relief from her. “I, however, would like to purchase a wardrobe of this quality and with these items.” He pulled out a folded-up piece of paper from his breast pocket and held it out. He’d written a list of clothes he thought she’d need for various events coming up and ones that she’d perhaps like to have for comfort. “And if you can make them for her measurements, that would be wonderful.”

She reached out to snatch the paper away, but he tugged it up, out of her reach, shaking his other finger with a tsk.

“I don’t need all of that,” she seethed.

“It’s not for you, it’s for me.”

She looked him up and down. “And you’re going to wear them ... how?”

He smiled. “I’ll find a use for them, I’m sure.”

She clenched her jaw but just shook her head, not arguing further, and he grinned.

“Come here.” Melina beckoned, and Onora stepped forward so they could begin taking her measurements.

Dryston flopped on the sofa, running his hand over the green velvet as they removed Onora’s clothes, save for her undergarments. He told himself to look away, that he shouldn’t leer. But his eyes trailed faster than his mind worked, and when he looked up and saw her smirking, he rolled his eyes, grabbing a paper from the side table and opening it.

It was a new issue of The High Flyers . A rough, and frankly unflattering, sketch of him graced the front, and he groaned. Did he even want to know what they were saying now? They’d spent many years unkindly dragging Enid’s name through the mud. They had loved the rake of The Darkened City, but now she was mated with Lesern’s darling, so they could only say glowing things about her.

Was he their new target?

He snorted at the title of the article: “Lord of Shadows Kidnaps a Hunter—and She Seems to Like It.”

Straightening the paper, he held it up in front of him, getting Onora’s attention. She squinted, reading the title, then giving him a weary look.

“I didn’t realize you liked the gossip pages,” she said.

“I don’t usually, but who knew they were such credible sources? I might have to give them another chance.”

She scoffed. “Credible? Not a single line of that is true.”

“Not even one line?”

“No.” She raised an imperious chin.

“Not even a little?”

“Not an ounce.”

Melina carefully marked the measurements, keeping her head down as she worked hard, barely trying to hide her grin.

He grabbed a nearby pen and marked out the title, replacing it with his own: “The Dashing Lord of Shadows Rescues a Hunter—and She’s Absolutely Besotted with Him.”

“Is this better?” he asked.

She only rolled her eyes, looking away and ignoring him.

“She didn’t refute it,” Talin said in a singsong voice and Dryston grinned, then laughed as he saw Onora’s jaw flex in irritation.

“I have no need to dignify that with an answer,” she seethed.

“You just did,” Dryston replied.

She whipped her head to him, glaring. “Don’t you have lordly things to do?”

“Oh yes. Mountains and mountains of lordly things to do. But I’m clearing my schedule for the woman so besotted with me. Leaving you hanging is hardly the gentlemanly thing to do.”

Fury whipped across her features and she turned on him, but Melina’s gentle hand brought her back to the center, changing the subject.

“Will you be at dinner this week?” Melina asked, taking a pin out of the seam and tightening it.

Onora shot a confused glance at Dryston, but Melina answered, “The colony dinner. It happens once a week.”

“Oh, I don’t think a?—”

“Yes,” Dryston interjected from where he sat, trying, and failing, not to admire the shape of her ass.

She raised a brow, and he shrugged.

“You don’t have to,” he said, aiming for nonchalance. “I just assumed you would. Since you’re our guest. It’s fine either way.”

She pursed her lips. “I think not, then. I’d hate to intrude.”

Dryston bit back the retort because it did no good. He wanted her there, but if she didn’t want to ...

“I want you there,” Melina said, her soft voice firm. “We need more girls, and I haven’t talked to a human in months.”

The women looked at each other, Melina smiling her saccharine smile and Onora’s features softening in a way Dryston had never seen. Melina had that effect on people. He’d seen silent, curmudgeonly elders be unwound in her presence, offering up stories and laughter that had been most likely locked in the vault of their mind for ages.

“Okay then,” Onora said.

Melina turned to Dryston. “If you do have lordly things to do, you can leave us be. We’ll be a bit, and if Onora is up for it, I’d like to take her to the stables later.”

Dryston’s chest tightened, thankful, as always, for Melina. The way she loved so immediately, ready to calm others. He was glad Melina would show Onora around.

He looked at Onora, who gave him a curious glance, as if asking permission.

“If you’re comfortable with it, Melina can give you the best tour of the stables.”

Onora nodded. “I love horses.”

Melina chuckled. “Oh, they’re not horses.”

Onora frowned in confusion, but Dryston stood, taking that as his cue. “Where’s Kaemon?”

Melina waved her hand to the door. “With Emilia in the market.”

It was easy to find Kaemon in the crowds. So many people were drawn to him naturally, but with Emilia strapped to his chest, he was impossible to stay away from. She was already such a social baby, used to babbling and smiling at the citizens of the city. Kaemon’s face lit up when he saw Dryston.

Ten years of thinking he was dead. Ten years of mourning him.

But here he was. In the flesh.

“Doing some shopping?” Kaemon asked.

“I was mostly just coming to look for you,” Dryston said. “Melina thought you’d be here.”

“Did you visit her at work?” Kaemon said the words with pride, his eyes lighting with that special look of love he had for her. “Talin snatched her up immediately. Her designs are taking off so well, and I can’t go anywhere without seeing someone wearing something by her.”

“She’s brilliant. Talin would have been a fool to not bring her under his wing.”

“How is Onora?” Kaemon asked as Dryston locked into stride with him and they wandered the market.

“Good ... I think. She seems calmer, but to be fair, we were running for our lives for a while there.”

Kaemon’s brow furrowed and emotion swam in his eyes. “We were so scared.”

“I know,” Dryston answered softly.

“I had to hold Enid back. She wanted to light up all of Venatu in shadowfyre.”

Dryston gave a wry chuckle. “I know.”

Silence fell for a moment, Kaemon chewing on his inner cheek. “Is it true?” he finally asked.

“Is what true?”

“That Onora kidnapped you and wanted to kill you, but you had to use her to escape?”

Dryston grimaced. “Yes. She had her reasons. There’s a lot going on, and she’s been through a lot.”

“Can you trust her?”

“Yes,” Dryston answered without thinking. Should he be more careful? Perhaps. But he knew, somewhere deep inside of himself, that he could. That things had changed between them, and she wouldn’t harm him or the other demons.

“Very well then, I do, too.”

Dryston let out a sigh of relief. Enid seemed amenable to Onora, but Enid was difficult to read. If she were told to give her last words before her execution, she’d tell the stupidest joke she could think of just to lighten the mood.

They came to a stall with daggers—finely crafted in the demonic fashion, with ornate handles. He found one with an inlaid sapphire, the hilt made of lava rocks, shimmering as he moved it in the light.

“I’ll take two of these,” he said.

“I didn’t know you were that into daggers,” Kaemon said.

“I’m not. Onora is, though, and I think she’d like these.”

Kaemon eyed him curiously. “Yeah?”

“She’s not a threat. And I know she’s a bit on edge here, being the smallest and weakest.”

“Oh, I didn't think she was a threat. I just think it’s ... sweet that you’re buying her a gift.”

Dryston waved his hand dismissively. “Well, I actually went to the forgery last night and requested they make her a set of axes as well. I know she’d feel a lot better with those on her side.”

“Custom-made axes?” There was another question in Kaemon’s words, but Dryston brushed it off.

“She needs them,” he replied gruffly.

Kaemon smiled a knowing smile, a tentative look on his face. “Of course. Are you buying her anything else?”

“Just things she needs,” he lied.

“Oh?”

“She needs more clothes. We didn’t exactly have time to pack before we left.”

Kaemon grinned. “Oh. Sounds like you’re creating a nice little nest for her in the room adjoining yours.”

Dryston cut him a look of warning, and Kaemon just laughed. Nesting was common mating behavior. Buying an abundance of things, making sure their living space was comfortable, doing anything and everything to show the mate they were cared for.

“Maybe I should get to know her better,” Kaemon said.

Dryston shrugged. “Whatever you want. It doesn’t matter.”

Kaemon nodded, giving him that damnable knowing smirk, and Dryston ran a hand over his face. He’d forgotten how nosey everyone was here. He only hoped Onora would have no clue about it all—that everyone would leave her out of their speculations and hovering.