Phoenix’s Fire (The Ruins Of Men #2)

Chapter 40

Forty

Meri

I was starting to like Ayla's friends. More now that they could talk to me, if I was honest. But when she and the Wyvern headed to the stage, Brielle moved closer to translate everything they said. I nodded, but the truth was I had more questions when the meeting was over than when it began.

And after the meeting, everything was chaotic. Ayla was at the front, talking to a group of people. The Wyvern came back to explain what was going on, and then Ayla came over to hug me and tell me to be careful - but she was the one who was leaving, not me!

Jeera and Brielle spent the evening packing bags with things they called "medical supplies," but they didn't look at all like what we'd used in the infirmary. One was a bag Jeera could wear on her back. The other was stuff Brielle was worried she might need at the hospital. Evidently, that was a very big and very advanced infirmary.

The next day, it all picked up right where it had left off, but we paused to enjoy lunch together, and then Jeera told me to get ready. I headed into my room and collected the book Ayla had loaned me, as well as a change of clothes. Those went in the bag I'd been given to carry them. Since I had nothing else, I headed back into the main room to find Jeera's mouth pressed tightly against Brielle's.

The women grasped each other the way Gideon had touched me once. Their fingers were soft but desperate. They kissed deeply, pressing every inch of their bodies together. I looked away, not wanting to be rude, just as they separated.

"Tell Irrik I love him?" Brielle asked.

Jeera nodded. "Promise, and if he does something stupid, I'll patch him up so he's just as pretty afterwards."

Which made Brielle laugh, yet it sounded worried. "And you, Jeer. Please don't let them get you? "

"I won't," she swore. "I'm coming back tonight, and we're going to pause long enough to have a beer, and then I'll help you with the wounded, okay?"

"Promise?" Brielle begged.

Jeera made an X over her chest. "Cross my heart." Then she grabbed Brielle's hand. "And I love you. No matter what happens, know that."

"I do," Brielle breathed. "And I love you too."

Jeera met her eyes, nodded again, then looked over at me and smiled. "You ready, Meri?"

"I think so," I squeaked, unsure if I was supposed to have heard any of that.

"Try to have fun with Lessa?" Brielle told me.

"I have a book," I said. "It's in English, so I will be okay."

Jeera guided me out of the house, leaving Brielle behind. We walked in the same direction as when we went to the library for our language lessons. West, they'd called it, although I wasn't quite sure how everyone seemed to agree on all the directions yet. But when we made it to the end of the street, Jeera cleared her throat and started talking as if we hadn't walked this far in complete silence.

"I hope I didn't offend you," she said. "Kissing Brielle, I mean."

"No!" I hurried to assure her. "I just... We weren't allowed to. I didn't want to interrupt, since it is your home."

"Dragons don't hide it," she told me. "But you're going to stay with Lessa tonight. She lives over here near some of the guys I'm heading out with. I thought I could walk you to her place, make sure you're settled in, and then head to the front with them."

"Is this dangerous?" I asked.

"Yeah," she mumbled.

"Please don't die?" I begged. "You're a good friend, and I don't really have many. But if you don't come back, I'll make sure Brielle's okay."

Jeera looked over, her silvery-grey eyes holding mine just a little too long before she pushed a smile onto her lips. "Thank you. You're a good friend too, and that actually makes me feel a lot better."

She shifted closer and wrapped her arm around my shoulders, but we walked the rest of the way in silence. I understood, though. This was a terrifying thing they were doing - and they were doing it for everyone else. To me, that sounded so brave, more so than the hunters, who earned privilege and prestige with their work. Dragons just helped each other, exactly the way Ayla had said.

Soon enough, we came to a little white house with another one behind it. Or maybe that other one wasn't a house, because it was smaller? I wasn't sure, but before we even made it into the yard, Lessa rushed out of the door. A tan man with black stripes across his back and green stripes down his ribs followed. Then came a bright-green man. He was the greenest thing I'd ever seen. Combined with the red lines by his eyes, his coloration was a bit shocking.

"Drozel. Omden!" Jeera said, greeting them.

"And Meri!" Lessa said in heavily accented English as she waved me over. "Do you need to sit? "

"No," I said, offering a kind smile to the men.

But the tan man hurried over to gallantly offer me his arm. "You are the frand of Ayla?"

"Friend!" Jeera corrected.

"I am," I assured the man.

He nodded. "She is ma frien' too. She safe me."

"She saved you?" I asked, then decided to try in Vestrian. "She saved you?"

Which made the green man whoop. " Sa daulks! "

It took me only a moment to realize that was the Vestrian version of "she talks," so I nodded at him. "A little," I tried in his language.

"Not bad," Lessa told me, pulling open the door in a clear invitation. "Come in." Then she switched to Vestrian. "Drozel, go kill some Moles. Ommy?"

The green man moved closer and held his arms open. "I'll tell Ayla she's here safely," he told Lessa.

"And take care of Droz, okay?" Lessa asked as she hugged the green man.

"Promise," he told her, but then the tan man stepped up.

"Don't scare her. The things we take for granted are confusing to them."

Lessa just caught the man's neck and pulled him down to her face. Then she kissed him! I had to bite my lips together to keep from gasping, but on the man's other side, Jeera was watching me. She also stuck her tongue out, proving she'd noticed my surprise.

"And Omden's his boyfriend," Jeera said, pointing at the green guy. "Complete heathens, all of us."

Which was enough to make me giggle just as Lessa let the man go. "That's a kiss for luck," she told Drozel. "Share it with Ommy, okay?"

"Oh, I can do that," he said. "We'll be home before dawn."

"You'd better!" Lessa yelled after them. "I'm tired of funerals!"

She stood there for a moment, watching until they made it out of her yard, then sighed. Finally, she turned around and headed inside, closing the door behind her. Without a word, she crossed the room and headed into another. I waited, not sure what I was supposed to be doing. Something banged. A moment later, I heard a chink. Then there was fluid.

After that, Lessa returned with a pair of glasses. "It's called lemonade," she told me. "And you get to pick. Do we distract ourselves with fabric, or do you want to sit and relax?"

"Fabric and relax?" I suggested.

Which made her smile. "Okay, follow me. My sewing room is back here."

Trailing after her, we walked down a narrow hall. On one side was a room packed with cloth of all kinds. On the other side was a room with a bed in it, but then she opened the door to the back and went outside again.

"Watch your step," she warned.

Just like the front of the house, the back had a pair of steps from the door to the grass. Lessa kept going to that little house I'd seen, but when she reached the door, she didn't knock. Instead, she pulled it open and headed inside, leaving it standing wide as an invitation for me to follow.

"This," she said as I made my way in, "is my sewing room."

I paused as I took in everything around me. Over there was a contraption made of metal. In the corner were a pair of chairs. Pads of paper held together with a spiral at the top had been left everywhere, and under those was cloth. So much cloth.

I saw blues and pinks. She had reds, yellows, and oranges. Greens and browns were tossed on another table. There was pitch black and pristine white - sometimes mixed together on the same fabric. Coarse, soft, and shiny, the weave came in all types. Solids, patterns, and even embroidery decorated the colors, and I didn't have the words for any of this.

"For clothes?" I finally asked.

"For clothes," she agreed. "Tell me, Meri. Do you know how to sew?"

"I do," I assured her. "I had to mend for my husband, and I'd started embroidering a blanket for the baby, but we didn't have anything like this."

"How about sewing machines?" she asked.

"A machine?"

So she patted the metal thing beside her. "That's what this is. There's another over there." Then she pulled out the chair beside her and gestured for me to take it. "If you'd like, I can show you how to work this thing."

"You think I can?"

"I do." She pushed some of those papers out of the way, then set a coaster on the exposed wood. "When I showed you the fabric samples, you seemed interested, and since I was going to make you a few things, I don't see why you can't help."

I claimed the chair, shifting a bit to get my belly positioned, then put my drink on the coaster. "I've never seen a machine before."

"It makes this a lot easier than doing it by hand." Then she moved to rest her hip on something hidden by a heap of fabric. "My English is good enough, right? You can understand me?"

"It's good," I promised. "You have an accent, but I'm getting used to that."

"Then I get to practice speaking, and you get to decide what kind of clothes you want." She smiled. "And after the baby, we can make even more."

"I don't have money," I admitted.

She waved that off. "I don't have friends who like clothes. Ayla said you do."

"I do," I admitted. "Gideon said it was vain and I should be ashamed, but I always liked pretty dresses."

"Your husband?"

I nodded.

"Is he dead?"

"I don't think so."

She grunted at that. "Did you want to get married?"

"I thought so." But I shrugged. "We had to get married, and Gideon was young, handsome, and a hunter." But I grimaced as I realized what I'd just said. "Down there, we didn't know any better. Hunters were the men who were strong and brave. They were good providers and everyone respected them. To marry a hunter was..."

"Something to be proud of?" Lessa offered.

"Yeah," I breathed. "I guess it was. When Gideon smiled at me, it made me feel pretty. Before I turned - since we all get married once we turn twenty - well, he used to bring me things. Once, it was a flower. A real one. I thought it must've been so hard to get, but now I see they're everywhere."

"And yet we still like getting flowers up here," she said. "It's nice to feel like someone wants you."

"It kinda is."

She nodded at that. "You know what's better?"

"No, not really."

"Wanting yourself." She lifted her glass and took a drink. "It's nicest..." She paused, making a face. "Is that a word?"

"Nicest? Yeah, maybe? But best?"

"Best," she agreed. "It's the best when you no longer care what anyone else wants from you, and you can listen to yourself. When knowing you're good enough isn't based on someone else approving or not."

"What do you mean?"

"Making people angry, or kissing someone you like but they think is ugly. Telling someone no! Being rude. Being nice." She shrugged. "Being you, no matter what you're supposed to be."

"Is that why you kissed the tan man?"

She grinned. "Drozel? He's fun. I also seem to have a thing for men with big muscles and who aren't available." But she waved that off. "All I'm saying is I don't care if you do or say things that aren't right. I probably won't either, and if you want to talk about anything, I'm actually a good listener."

"I don't even know where to start," I admitted.

So she gestured around the room. "Why not here? Point out the first fabric you see that catches your eye. We can start with showing you how to use this machine, and go through our friends, our enemies, our exes, and everything else while we create something pretty."

I stabbed my finger at the black-and-white cloth. "That one. I've never seen anything like it before."

"Geometric pattern," she said, heading over to fetch the fabric. "Bold choice for a girl who wants to please others."

"Should I pick something else?" I asked.

She glanced back with a devious smirk on her face. "Oh, hell no. This one's perfect. This one, Meri, is for the new you."

I glanced down at the roundness before me. "Oh."

Lessa grabbed the bolt and began hauling it back over. "Did you know the idea of pregnancy scares me?"

"Really?" I asked .

She made a face. "Scare. Scar." Then she shook her head. "Terrifies."

"Scare," I assured her.

"I've always been glad I can't do it. I mean, I don't even know if I want kids." And she set the cloth down between us.

"I don't know if I do either."

She reached for her scissors. "Yeah? Why don't you tell me about that?"

The surprising thing was that I did. As she began to cut out shapes, somehow knowing exactly where the lines should be, I began telling her all about the women who'd died, how Naomi was worried, and that I was convinced Gideon would still end up killing me even though I'd managed to get away.

And Lessa? She listened.