Chapter 4 #2
The pot clanked a little too loudly as I set it on the cast-iron stove.
“You want me to do woman things, and yet you don’t trust me to boil a pot of water.
I held a dragon down today as its injury was treated, Mama.
I served beer to a hundred drunk idiots at Mim’s.
” My voice was loud, my arms moving rapidly.
Mama’s eyes widened, but I wasn’t finished.
“And I’ll do it again, as long as it takes, so we can eat.
So we can sleep inside rather than out there, even if my work isn’t on your list of acceptable jobs for ladies.
Selling knit scarves on the street corner isn’t a guaranteed income, Mama.
Especially in the summer.” I pointed violently at the window.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then, softly, “My headache has been worse today,” Mama began, as if I hadn’t even spoken.
“What with the commotion outside and worrying about where you’d gone.
Whether those gangs had snatched you up, too.
” She wiped at one eye, though I doubted it was an actual tear.
A piece of dust, perhaps. “You know what it does to me to worry. I can’t even knit when the pain gets too bad. ”
For a moment, I stared at my mother, unsure how one person could be so incongruous and not see it.
When she took the pot from the stove, I let her, at a loss for what else to say.
As soon as Mama slipped into the hall to fill up the pot, Evie tiptoed toward me, her eyes wide with unspoken questions.
I hugged her, but I no longer had the energy to describe today’s events.
The shift at Mim’s had gone late, thanks to the post-race celebration, and I was more exhausted than I’d realized.
And suddenly, the excitement over possibly bonding with a dragon dimmed as I thought about leaving Evie for a whole school year.
I trudged over to the single bed Evie and I shared and began unlacing my shoes. My eyes landed on the stack of old books by the bed, pages still brown and split from the fire years ago. I’d read them each countless times, and Evie was slowly making her way through them now.
I turned to her. “Have you gotten to the part where the dragon egg hatched?” I asked, setting my shoes under the bed.
She shrugged. “It’s not as exciting as you said it would be. It’s just history. I want romance.”
Shaking my head, I lay back against my pillow. “You’re too young for romance, Eve.”
“I’m fourteen!” she protested, settling beside me, her legs crossed.
I smiled, but my eyelids were so heavy that by the time Mama returned with the full pot, I was already halfway asleep. I barely heard my mother’s snide remarks about my ingratitude as I drifted off.
The next morning, I slipped from the apartment, padded down the rickety steps as quietly as the creaky wood allowed, and strolled through the mostly empty streets toward the edge of the city.
The stone that encased the bottomside of Treston pressed an unseasonable chill over the streets that felt more like catacombs than avenues.
Though I’d grown up here, walked beneath the bridges more often than over them, I still felt a bit like a rat running through the sewers.
But there was one place I could go where the walls disappeared, the stone vanished, and the air turned sweet.
One place where I could walk alone and not fear the shadows.
Mornings had a stillness to them, which, after the bustling crowds on race day, felt strange. I passed several dark shapes piled in the shadows at the base of bridges, where the streetlamps’ yellow light didn’t quite reach, and hurried by.
As I turned Merlon Fairfax’s proposal over in my mind, I thought of Evie, of her girlhood slipping quickly away like water through a closed fist. She’d be catching the eye of men soon enough, and when they found out where she lived, how she’d come into this world illegitimately, they’d turn away.
She was pretty enough, sweet enough, to marry well, but only if given the chance.
We had to get out of our cramped apartment, had to get out of this neighborhood.
Even a scandalous birth like hers could be overcome if we had enough money.
“Hi, Ari.”
I jumped so violently that laughter met my ears. When I whirled around, my brother’s face was half-hidden beneath a slanted derby hat, the dim light touching only the tip of his nose and the edge of his jaw.
He cracked a smile at me. “You don’t usually go this way.”
“Keeping an eye on me?”
“What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t?” Bennett said, lighting a cigarette.
“I told you I don’t need you to follow me around.”
A puff of smoke filled the air between us.
“Then you’ve come to join me, finally?” he asked, lifting his chin.
A curling tattoo snaked around his neck.
It looked like a dragon’s tail. His eyes were puffy and bruised, and his chin wore a week-old beard, which was still patchy even though Bennett was twenty-four.
Sadness mixed with anger in my chest, making it difficult to respond right away. I cleared my throat. “I’d rather shovel manure. Oh, wait, I already do that.”
He huffed. “You’re too good for good money, is that it? You’d rather wallow in that hovel with Mama than live with fine things.”
I glared at him. “Your fine things are stained with blood.”
“I’m not a thief, Ari.”
“Just a gambler. And we all know how that worked out for Pa.”
He scowled, his face turning menacing in the deep shadows. “When you know where to place your bets, the winnings are as good as a day’s paycheck. Pa knew nothing, the coward,” he spat. Then, gentler, “I can provide for you three.”
His words rattled me, but I couldn’t let him see it. “You can’t always know how to bet. That’s why they call it gambling.”
He sneered. “When you can count cards, Ar, it’s not risk. It’s just math. I can teach you.”
“No, thanks.” Clasping my hands behind my back, I said curtly, “I’m glad you’re okay. But I will get us out of the slums without a single carand of your dirty money.”
“Suit yourself, Ar.” He backed away a few steps, his gait lilting, like he could barely stay upright. “They’ve promised me a better life. I’m moving up quickly. Soon, I’ll be out of this wretched neighborhood. Then, if you want to see me, you’ll have to shine those self-righteous shoes of yours.”
As I watched him go, disappearing into the pale fog, I pressed my palm against the knot on the left side of my chest. “Don’t die, Ben,” I whispered.
Gambling had killed my father and stolen our peace more times than I could count.
But the lure of it was too much for some to ignore.
His words echoed in my head…when you know where to place your bets…
My thoughts felt as trapped as the air in a coffin, and the woods, though slightly out of the way, would offer a quiet place to think.
I turned a corner and slipped up a narrow street, eyeing the trees ahead.
What chance did I stand of bonding with a dragon, of making it at a school designed for the most privileged people on the continent?
I had to make a decision by nine o’clock.
In the relative quiet of the woods, I was free to dream.
With birdsong on the air and gentle wind hissing through needled branches high above, my mind forgot the eviction notice, the disapproval in my mother’s voice, the bruises beneath my brother’s eyes, and slipped to its favorite place: atop a dragon, hair whipping in the wind, city spread out below me as I soared.
Mama said it was foolish to dream. I said it was foolish not to.
This time, I pictured myself flying toward the turrets and towers of Cardan Lott College.
I’d never even seen the school, as it sat on the north edge of Treston, but I’d heard it was in an actual castle, the former home of one of Cavaria’s sovereigns, and my imagination filled in the rest. In my mind, the queen herself stood below me, welcoming me with a smile and a sweep of her gloved hand.
My foot kicked a rock hidden beneath wet leaves, and I stumbled, the dream shattering.
I was once again alone in the forest. Scents of earth and rain-slicked bark and sharp cedar filled my nose, a welcome change from the stench of an overcrowded city.
Pale sunlight angled through the mist like silver knives carving through the trees.
A memory surged to the surface, of the morning I’d woken to a boot being jammed into my back, a vile word falling over me from the lips of a constable trying to clean the streets of vermin.
He’d kicked me, the smallest of the group, first, and my scream had woken Mama and my brother.
The rest of the memory was fuzzy, but I’d never forgotten the way the sunlight streaming down from above the bridges had looked like spears thrown down from heaven.
A commotion to my right jarred me from my painful memories.
Branches breaking. The unmistakable growl of a dragon.
A dark, winged shadow passed overhead before more branches snapped as the beast dove for me. Sweat broke over my body as I turned and ran, a scream lurching from my lips.
The wild dragon’s claws snicked in the air near my head.
I stumbled, nearly crashing to the forest floor, but I found my footing and hurried back down the path toward the city.
Spraying me with green needles, the dragon charged after me.
Though I could hear wingbeats, he never rose far above me.
Another growl, but this one the same sound Azeron had made earlier—the dragon was in pain.
I glanced over my shoulder, mouth ajar. “I know you,” I whispered, staring up at the black and gold dragon I’d scared away from the Covingtons’ lair. As soon as I paused, he too stopped, his neck arcing, his claws curling into the earth.
But something in his golden eyes felt less like a hunter zeroing in on his prey and more like…like he was sad I’d been running away.