Wyvern’s Gold (The Ruins Of Men Book 1)

Chapter 50

Fifty

Zasen

I didn't need to kill the girl. I wouldn't ever. Rymar had gotten her legally registered as a refugee, which meant she now had some rights in Lorsa. More than all of that, she'd helped.

Which meant I didn't need to keep her at a distance, because that was the problem with Ayla. She was so innocent and curious. The girl was honest and kind. Everything about her made her seem vulnerable, but underneath was something amazing.

And the more I learned about her, the more impressed I was. Oh, she was cute. Her face was beautiful. Her body was too lean for my taste, but we were working to fix that. She needed to put on at least ten more pounds just to be considered healthy.

But if she was now a refugee, then she didn't need to be held prisoner in my home. It didn't matter if we'd been doing that as subtly as possible. We'd still kept her locked away from sunlight, flowers, people, and everything else she'd come aboveground to experience.

And it wasn't fair.

Ayla had done nothing wrong. Maybe we'd had a good reason not to trust her, but that hadn't been her fault. Yes, we were resentful of what the Moles did to our people, but she hadn't known. The men down there had kept her ignorant to make abusing her easier.

Mental abuse, emotional, and even physical, they had done it all. If she'd been there any longer, sexual abuse would've been next. In all of this, Ayla was the victim. Over and over, shitty things happened to her, but she just kept picking herself up and pushing through it. What bothered me the most was I'd been one of those shitty things.

Not anymore. Starting today, I was going to make it all up to her, even if she didn't understand why. Not only had she proven herself to us, but she'd helped. That girl tried harder than anyone else I'd ever met - even me. And the first step to setting her free was to make sure she had the clothes - and shoes - to go wherever she wanted.

So I headed across town to find yet another one of my childhood friends. I honestly didn't know how long I'd known Lessa, but it felt like she'd always been a part of our group. Maybe it had been middle school? Back when we'd first met, she'd just been one of the boys. One more tailed person to sneak out, run around with, and to get us into too much trouble.

And then we'd all grown up.

Now, she was a successful seamstress. In truth, her clothes were sought out by everyone in Lorsa. She made deals with various Reaper tribes to purchase fabrics and supplies. For other cloth, she paid apprentices to make it for her. Her patterns ranged from demure to seductive, so if anyone could figure out how to make the right clothes for Ayla, I knew it would be her.

When I reached her house, I avoided the front porch and made my way around to the shop in the back. There, I knocked on the door, hearing the sound of equipment shuffling inside. It took a moment, then the door opened to reveal a beautiful, curvaceous, sandy-colored Dragon woman. Her eyes immediately raked over me and a smile touched her lips.

"Zasen, you haven't come to visit me since before you headed off to negotiate with the Reapers," Lessa teased.

I just shook my head, stopping her before she could think this was personal. "I actually came to hire a seamstress."

Immediately, her flirtatious expression changed to annoyance. "For that fucking Mole you took in?"

"Her name is Ayla," I told her.

"And she's still a Mole," Lessa shot back. "I have no fucking clue what you were thinking, bringing one of them into our town. Do you have any idea the sort of things she could send back to them?"

"Nothing they don't already know," I assured her. "Besides, I know you need the money. I'll pay you double your usual rate if you'll measure her and make the kind of clothes she'll actually wear."

Lessa slammed the door in my face.

Well, this wasn't going how I'd hoped. I'd thought the idea of making much more than the fabric was worth would convince her to take the job. I'd even dared to believe that maybe our years of friendship would be enough to make her listen to me. But this? Granted, it was how Lessa usually acted. I'd just raised my hand to bang on her door again when it opened one more time.

On the other side, she had her sandy-blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, had put on her boots, and she was carrying a bag with all of her supplies.

"Fine," she told me, "but you had better believe I am charging you double for everything."

I draped my arm over her shoulder and turned her towards the road that led back to my house. "Lessa, she's a nice girl."

"She is a Mole," Lessa reminded me. "I don't care how nice she is. That one little thing trumps all else."

"And she escaped them. They tried to kill her. To me, that means the Moles don't like her either."

Lessa grunted, walking a few steps before she said anything else. Then, "Did they chain her out?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "They stripped her down to her underwear and this thin little dress thing. Maybe a slip? It was mostly see-through. They said she was being sacrificed to the Dragons, so they left her with nothing."

For a little too long, Lessa didn't say anything. Her tail, however, spoke volumes. The thing snapped from side to side, her stinger partially revealed, proving how irritated she was. Then again, I'd always known she hated Moles. That was why I didn't expect her to like Ayla - never mind that she might see the girl as competition - but I was hoping the extra income might make her overlook all of that.

"So how do you know she isn't a spy?"

I chuckled at that, but the sound was dry. "Because a spy wouldn't kill Moles the way she did. A spy wouldn't be more worried about a child's life than getting her information back."

"Oh."

I nodded slowly, knowing how she felt. That was what had changed my mind about Ayla too. "Lessa, she had no idea what she'd been fed. Still, she didn't eat meat. She refused, even when she was beaten for it." I murmured softly. "Oh, and she's the reason I can now understand Moles. It seems they speak English."

That was enough to make Lessa miss a step. She stumbled, I reached out to grab her arm, steadying her, and she clasped my shoulder for support. Stopping there in the middle of the street, she looked up at me with her wide, amber eyes, and her mouth hung open.

"They actually speak that old language?"

I nodded my head slowly. "I found that out by accident. It's taken me a bit to figure out how to pronounce the words properly, but I think I'm starting to get the hang of it - not that it really matters. Ayla's pretty much fluent in Vestrian now."

Lessa murmured and shrugged that off. "Well, spending most of your life learning how to be a doctor would make you pretty good at English."

"Better than I thought," I admitted. "Lessa, just know this girl is nothing like you think."

She shifted her bag on her shoulder, clearly thinking about it. "Okay. So then what is she like? Because I think she's a Mole who sees us as nothing but animals." She turned to look right at me. "What the hell were you thinking, bringing her here, Zasen?"

"I was thinking she's a Mole woman - and the first we'd ever seen - which means she knows what happens in the Mole base," I explained. "I thought that if I could just get her on our side, she would tell me everything she knows. Surprise, surprise - she is. She doesn't know what is useful information and what isn't, but she's more than willing to share it all."

"Does she know you intend to kill everyone in there?" Lessa shot back.

I grumbled under my breath. "Lessa, she wants to kill them too, well, the men at least. Those men abused her. This girl keeps talking about a woman's place and what is proper. She's meek in a way that was clearly beaten into her, because every so often, something else shines through." Then I sighed. "Look. Just be nice to her? Don't scare the poor thing too much?"

"I make no promises," Lessa told me, "but I won't be a complete bitch."

I reached over to rub her shoulder. "That's all I'm asking for."

Thankfully, the walk across town didn't take too long. Soon enough, the pair of us reached my house, but this time I didn't open the door and let Lessa walk in first. Instead, I stepped in before her, surprised to find Ayla in the living room – with a cloth in her hand.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Behind me, Lessa walked in, almost bumping into me. Ayla saw her and immediately stood up a little straighter, pushing both hands behind her back to hide the cloth she was using. Lessa huffed as if she was unimpressed and moved around me, allowing me to close the door behind us.

"Well, it looks like she fits into that dress well enough," Lessa said.

A split second later, Ayla blurted out, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were expecting company. I was just trying to clean up the house a little. If you would like me to go somewhere else, I'd be happy to, but I don't know which room you're going to need to use."

I lifted my hands, begging both women to give me a second. Then I decided to answer Ayla first.

"This is Lessa; she's a seamstress. I asked her to come and measure you so we can get you some new clothes. Is that okay?"

Ayla nodded her head quickly. "Give me one moment to get cleaned up. I'm sorry, my hands are dirty."

And just like that, she spun and headed towards the bathroom. Reaching up to rub the bridge of my nose, I looked over at Lessa. "See what I mean?"

Lessa gave me a scathing look. "You're making her act like a maid?"

"I am not making her do anything," I assured her as Kanik wandered down the stairs and into the living room.

"Oh, she decided to do this on her own," he explained. "She also took the first dose this morning, Zasen."

"And?" I asked.

One corner of his mouth curled upwards. "Well, she didn't scream. It was touch and go for a bit, but she's okay now."

"Good," I said.

He just jerked his chin at me. "But if you two are going to be doing a fashion show, I'm going to go grab something to eat."

"At Rymar's?" I guessed.

Kanik nodded. "Yeah. Believe it or not, I'm starting to go a little stir crazy, so you can take a day with her."

"Was planning on it," I assured him. "Go. Get out while you can."

Lessa murmured under her breath, then moved over to the closest chair to set her bag down. "Have fun, Kanik." Then she murmured again, turning her attention to me. "Well, I can say the girl's pale coloration will make picking colors easy enough."

"Feminine colors," I told her as I lifted my hand in Kanik's direction, waving to him as he left. "I don't know what colors those would be, but I'm going to guess that's what Ayla would want."

Lessa nodded. "And let me guess, you want her in nothing but dresses?"

"Actually, I want at least two sets of hunting leathers for her. She's also going to need shoes," I pointed out. "Just - everything, Lessa. All she owns is a few dresses my sister begged from people she knows."

That made Lessa laugh. "This one clearly came from Naomi. I remember making it."

Before I could reply, Ayla was back. Not only had the girl lost her rag somewhere and washed her hands, but she'd also put her hair up in a knot at the back of her head. Like this, she looked completely demure and boring. Invisible would be another word. For me, the problem was how it showed off exactly how lean and underfed she was.

"Okay," Lessa said, gesturing for Ayla to come closer. "I'm going to need to measure your body. Have you ever had this done before?"

Ayla looked confused, then shook her head. Her eyes jumped to me. "I don't know what's going on, Zasen."

"Lessa is going to make you clothes," I told her again.

"So why does she need to measure me?" Ayla asked.

"That's how she knows what size clothes you'll need."

"She doesn't adjust something else?"

So I turned to Lessa and let her answer. The seamstress made a disgusted noise. "No. I don't recycle clothes. You need to have something made to fit you. Recycled clothes are only good for growing children. Granted, I'm going to guess you don't have a lot of cotton or wool underground, so it's probably a luxury."

"Fabric is hard to come by," Ayla admitted. "Sometimes we got fibers, and all the women would be expected to make it into thread so we could weave cloth or knit new items."

"Yeah..." Lessa grumbled. "Well, I'm going to make you brand new clothes. Ones just for you, okay?"

Slowly, Ayla nodded. "But you can't look, Zasen," she told me. "It would be improper."

Throwing up my hands, I turned around to face the painting on the wall. "Go ahead, Lessa. Do your thing. I'll just stand here in case I'm needed."

Lessa giggled at that. "Zasen, I think you have found yourself a prude. This is going to be so much fun."

Yeah, maybe for her. For me, I felt like I was so far out of my depth. I barely understood anything about clothes, except where to buy them. I certainly didn't know styles and fashion. And yet, as Lessa carefully measured every part of Ayla, she made sure to ask the girl dozens of questions.

Even worse, Ayla didn't understand any more than me. Less, if I was honest. Certain things, like how long she wanted her dresses or what colors she liked, those were easy. Things like sweetheart necklines and flared skirts took a lot of questions and answers. Bit by bit, the women seemed to zero in on a concept of fashion.

But when Ayla said she didn't want to show much skin, that was more than Lessa could take. "Young lady, it is too hot for you to wrap yourself up like you're embarrassed!"

Yeah, that was not going to help. "Ayla," I tried, "it's summer, which means it gets hot during the day. Will you let her make clothes for you that are appropriate for living aboveground?"

Lessa huffed. I couldn't see, but I was pretty sure she'd also given me a dirty look. It was the sort of thing she'd do, at least. But Ayla didn't answer for much too long.

I almost turned around to check on her, but I didn't want to betray her trust like that. Lessa was murmuring, and I could hear the scratch of her pencil as she wrote down the numbers of her measurements, but that was all.

Finally Ayla said, "I trust you, Zasen. I just don't want to make a mistake."

So I told Lessa, "Please, don't design her things that will make her scared to leave the house? She's not used to the way Dragons do things."

Lessa made an unimpressed sound. "Zasen, when will you figure out that I actually know what I'm doing?"

"Probably about the time you show me what you make her," I admitted. "Seriously, I'm just trying to be a good man here."

"And that," Lessa told me, "is the only reason I'm doing this. Don't worry, I will make sure she looks beautiful when I'm done. She also won't have a heart attack. At least not too big of one - but it's going to cost you."

And for now, that was the best I could hope for.