Redeeming the Dragon (Into the Enchanted)

Chapter 37

“ K idron! Kidron!”

Lantern in hand, I hastened towards the bed. The familiar shape of my dragon prince’s body beckoned to me. A thrill shot through my core as I recalled how it felt to lie beside him, holding his hand, the warmth of his body melting mine.

“Kidron?”

I wanted desperately to see him awake. Setting the lantern down on the bedside table, I reached out to touch his cheek, the dark whiskers of his beard slightly scratchy against my palm.

“Kidron?”

Why was he not awakening? Why did his golden eyes not meet mine?

“Kidron!” A panicky feeling gripped me. He was not dead. His flesh was warm. His chest rose and fell with breath. And yet…he was not awakening. Desperate, I seized both of his shoulders, shaking him.

“Kidron, you must awaken! Please! ”

How could he sleep through this? His entire body trembled beneath the force of my shaking, and yet…he released a quiet snore, his body slumping into stillness the instant I’d released him.

“No. Oh no.”

I sank to the edge of the bed, my head and shoulders drooping in defeat. To have come so far…to have given up home and family for him…to know that the potential weight of Aerisia’s future hung on my shoulders…and to be defeated like this…

Either the Scraggen’s daughter had betrayed me, drugging her betrothed before she fetched me to his room, or else she’d betrayed me to her mother, who had cast a sleeping spell over the dragon prince, ensuring I couldn’t awaken him and lift the curse. Or, there was also the possibility the Scraggen had simply drugged him or cast a spell over him every night anyway, making sure that he was helpless.

Whatever the case, my plan had been foiled. There were no more magical folk with whom I could consort. So far as I knew, the artifacts given to me by the fairy, the Simathe, and the Jearim wouldn’t break a sleeping enchantment or dissipate a sleeping draught.

Well, I thought, attempting to console myself, if I cannot rouse him, I can at least sleep beside him as I used to. If he wakens, I will know. If not, I will have a night of rest beside the man I love. What else is there to do? The Scraggen’s daughter will not unlock the door until dawn.

I blew out the lantern, swung my feet into bed, and laid down. Initially, I felt half guilty lying beside a man to whom I was not wed, even though we’d spent many nights like this already. I was even embarrassed to crawl under the blankets with him. After further deliberation, I realized how silly this was.

You cannot wake him, not even to break a curse and help Aerisia, yet you worry about impropriety? Under normal circumstances, aye, but these are far from normal circumstances .

Decision made, I crawled under the blankets and then dared myself to scoot up against him. The warmth of his body was inviting, as was the musculature I could see beneath his thin shirt. Boldly, I crawled right up to him, pressing myself into his side, my face into his arm.

Kidron, I love you, I thought.

As if he’d heard the words, Kidron shifted and I instantly sat up, leaning over him, scarcely daring to breathe. Was he awakening? Had my nearness, or my movement, succeeded in rousing him?

No.

His breathing returned to normal. Deep and steady, telling me he’d not wakened. Disappointed, I laid back down, resuming my former position pressed against him.

“I’ve come so far to find you, Kidron,” I whispered. “This is not the end of the journey. I will find a way. We will try again tomorrow. I’m not defeated. You are not defeated. We will break the curse, Kidron. We will make this right. Until then, sleep. Rest.”

He was already asleep. I suppose the advice was more to me than to him. Regardless, the comfort of his presence, the joy at having found the Warkin prince and being reunited with him, slowly overcame my fears for the future. Before long, my breathing had slowed and deepened, falling into cadence with his. I fell asleep with my face tucked into his arm and wakened with my head still in place and my arm flung across his chest.

“Peddler. Peddler!”

A soft voice was hissing at me. I did not recognize it, and reluctantly lifted my arm from the Warkin prince’s chest, shooing the speaker away.

“Let me sleep,” I insisted, as I might have to my sisters. “G’way. ”

“I cannot go away,” the woman asserted. “If you do not come now, my mother might discover us. Dawn has arrived. Time to flee, Peddler!”

Those words startled me fully awake. I sat up with a harsh intake of breath, shoving my tangled hair from my face. A hasty, longing glance at Kidron told me he still slept. Dim light filled the bedchamber, showing me the hard planes of the dragon prince’s face and the scales glimmering around his eyes. I dragged my gaze from Kidron to the window. Dawn was beginning to paint the sky in hues of pink, purple, and orange.

I did not wish to leave.

I had no choice.

I stared longingly at his mouth, wishing I were free to kiss him. However, the Scraggen’s daughter stood there. She had permitted me a night with her betrothed, and here we were sharing a bed, but would she permit a kiss? I dared not press my luck too far.

“Farewell, Kidron,” I murmured, squeezing his hand. “I will see you soon.”

“Hurry, Peddler!” the girl insisted, her motions and voice becoming frantic.

I stumbled out of bed, drew on my shoes, grabbed up my bag, and hastened after her. This time, the keep was not so quiet as she led me down the same corridors. Food smells teased my nostrils, awakening a voracious hunger. Banging and clanging, scritching and scratching sounds I could not identify told me the castle was preparing for the day. The Scraggen’s daughter practically ran, holding up her long skirts with one hand. At the iron door, she paused long enough to mumble the magic words and wave her hand in the same motions as last night. The door opened. She stepped in front of it, barring my way, holding out her palm .

“I’ll have my prize now,” she said. “Then you’ll go out by the same tunnel, to the same pile of rocks. Were I you, I’d hide until nightfall, then slip away.”

“I’ve a different idea,” I said, maintaining an even tone as I dug into my pack for Braisley’s snowflake, which I dropped still wrapped into her palm. “Allow me another night with the Warkin prince and I will give you another magical artifact in exchange.”

The young woman had peeled back the cloth around the snowflake and was examining it with bright eyes and a greedy smile. When I made my offer, her gaze shot up to me. I saw suspicion, but the greed hadn’t left.

“You will? What do you have?” she demanded, and I reached back into my pack, drawing out the dragon blade.

“This,” I said, turning it this way and that, allowing her to examine it in the dim light. “True Warkin made. I wager you haven’t its like.”

“I’m to be forced to wed a Warkin prince,” she sniffed haughtily. “What need have I for this blade? I suppose I can have all the Warkin weapons I wish after the wedding.”

Wedding? No, I could not let that happen!

“But not one such as this. It was given to me by the Simathe First,” I said, thinking quickly. “I would wager you don’t possess anything linked to the deathless.”

I could tell by the rounding of her eyes that my supposition was correct.

“You have met a Simathe?” she breathed.

“Not a mere Simathe. Their First. The very first Simathe ever created by your people, the Scraggen,” I announced proudly.

“That is truly remarkable,” the young woman observed. “My mother is the most powerful Scraggen alive, and even she’s not met the First. Nor Lord Ilgard, their current High-Chief. ”

“Then would you not love to steal a march on your mother?” I grinned, offering the dagger. “One night with the Warkin prince. Same rules as before. Come tomorrow dawn, I will give you the dagger.”

“Deal,” she agreed. We clasped hands, then she said, “Go, Peddler. I’ll meet you this evening at dusk.”

I slipped past her. Before I’d gone far down the tunnel, she called softly, “Wait!”

I hesitated, turning back to her. “Aye?”

“You told me your name,” she said. “I’ve forgotten.”

“Lorna. Lorna of the Jeweled Isles.”

“Lorna,” she nodded. “That is easier than Peddler.”

I chuckled. “What is your name? That is easier than Scraggen’s Daughter.”

She dithered, but finally answered, “Atora. My name is Atora.”

“Atora,” I echoed. “That is a pretty name. I will see you tonight, Atora.”

With that, I was gone, grieving a failed chance to rescue my Dragonkind prince, but grateful for the night I’d spent with him and even more grateful for a second chance tonight. I would not let it go to waste. Light helping me, I would not fail.