Chapter 11 #2
“Why did you take the Bargain?” I ask, all the worry from earlier with Brin draining away. Gods, he’s so warm. Why is he so warm? “It sort of seems like you didn’t want to.”
“The Arbiter chose me.”
“Who?”
“The Arbiter,” he says it like it’s obvious.
“What’s that?”
He stares down at me, his jawline in sharp relief. “The mortals don’t know about the Arbiter?”
I shake my head. “Huh?”
“Gods, it’s as if you’ve gone backwards in learning, in knowledge about our world. The sheer ignorance of some of the things you’ve told me, what your elders have taught you. It—”
“Now who’s insulting who?” I shove at his chest.
He doesn’t move at all. It’s like pushing against rock.
He looks up, and with a slight shake of his head, says, “The Arbiter presides over each Bargain, seeking to assure fairness for all parties. She chooses who from Oblivion will partake in the Bargain every 20 years. She’s also supposed to ensure fairness on the side bargains made by unscrupulous immortals with your people, but by all accounts, she’s been quite lax in the recent century or two. ”
“So there’s a person who dictates all this?
” Did the Eternal Chalice actually choose me or was it this Arbiter person?
Or was it all a bunch of lies in the first place?
My head is spinning, my temper rising. I was controlled by Lord Rayid, by the Eternal Chalice—and that chafed.
But to think that I had no say in anything, no chance of avoiding this fate, no free will—gods, it’s maddening.
“The Arbiter was chosen by mortals and immortals when the Bargain first began, and it has been her duty ever since.”
The thought of someone out there who sits back and watches as mortals are shredded or burned or kidnapped to some grisly fate—it’s galling. “That’s horseshit.”
His eyes widen.
“I mean it. No one should tell me what happens to me except me. No one should pick and choose who lives and who dies and who gets sacrificed to Oblivion. I make my own fate.” My mother would tell me to hush, would say my words were blasphemy and I had to be careful. But look what being careful got me.
“You speak your mind.” He seems taken aback.
“I always have. Maybe that’s one of the reasons the Eternal chalice just happened to pick me.” I chew on my bottom lip, my irritation eating away at me. “And if that bothers you, then you’ll have to take it up with the Arbiter, since it seems she’s the one who chose me as your sacrifice.”
“It doesn’t bother me. Dragons prize candor almost as highly as treasure.”
I stop chewing my lip. “You do have a lot of treasure. Enough for—”
“Never enough, pet.” He gives me a devilish smile. “There’s not enough treasure in this world to satisfy a DragonKin.”
Gods, he’s beautiful in a way I’ve never seen in a man before.
His features are rough-hewn, sharp and angular.
His eyes seem to possess their own inner sparkle, all the more when he’s on the subject of treasure.
Big, strong, and assuredly deadly, he’s also far more handsome than any male has a right to be—dragon or otherwise.
How strange I should find myself in this creature’s arms, comforted by him in a way that defies comprehension.
He stands, lifting me easily, and grabs my crutch. “Come, it’s time for you to dine with everyone instead of alone in our room.”
I squirm. He always refers to the bedchamber as ‘ours’ though he doesn’t sleep there.
I’ve been half wondering, half fearing he would change his mind and get into bed with me one of these evenings.
He never has. The more time I’ve had to recover, the more I realized I jumped a lot of conclusions—all of them bad and most of them wrong.
He carries me into the dining room, the same one I ventured into before.
It seems like that was ages ago, as if I’ve lived an entire lifetime between then and now.
But it’s only been a few weeks. Each day spent with Lenka and the other Firefolk with frequent visits from Vander.
I could hear his brothers, their loud voices carrying through the keep, but they never came to my room.
I soon grew accustomed to hearing them if not seeing them.
Laughter, jokes, and almost constant ribbing—sometimes they reminded me of the boys I knew in Raingreen, the young ones who lived and worked in the outer village right alongside me.
But that was before my father left, before my mother and I were shunned, almost being sent outside the walls entirely.
Vander sits me down at the table, knocking me out of my thoughts. “Oh, this is nice.” The chair is different. Not the huge one made for DragonKin, but smaller. As if it were created with a mortal in mind.
“Did you craft this?” I ask and run my hands along the smooth wooden rails. The back has been cut into a scene of woods and wildflowers, all of it darkened around the edges as if the design was burned in.
“I was scouting along the Forest of Ruin at the northern border of our lands.” He shrugs and sits beside me. “Grabbed a few fallen trunks while I was there. I thought you might want something more your size. Is it to your liking?”
“Yes.” I can almost see him in dragon form, huge trees clutched easily in his talons. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
He dips his chin, his mouth turning up at the corners in a small smile while his green eyes flash in the candlelight. “I’m glad you like it.” He tilts his head to the side, the golden scales along his throat glinting, as if he hears something. “My brothers are coming. Don’t be alarmed.”
“I’m not.” I settle back against the seat, the cushion under my bottom a luxury. “I’ve learned quite a few new salty words from them over the past few days. They’re loud.”
He groans and grabs my napkin, laying it in my lap for me. “Just ignore them. Brin will likely be here too. Nilufer might join, but I haven’t heard from her in a while. She’s been attending to her people’s business.”
My ears prick up at that. “There’s another woman here?”
“Nilufer? She’s a female, yes.” He leaves it at that, which only piques my interest more.
The only other female I’ve seen in the keep is Lenka, and she acts like a mother to everyone here, including me.
She’s grown on me from the moment I got here.
So much so that I trust her, probably more than I should.
Raucous laughter floats down the hallway, and in short order Vander’s brothers appear.
“We’re doing this again?” The first one says with a smirk, his gaze flicking from Vander to me.
He’s tall and broad just like all of them, but his hair is white and the scales along his throat and upper chest are a bright silver.
His shirt is open to an alarming degree.
In Raingreen, he’d be run out of town for showing so much skin—not to mention scales—but here it seems perfectly normal.
“Everyone behave,” Vander’s voice is low, far rougher than it was with me only moments ago. “Larellin, this is Faraday.”
The white-haired DragonKin gives me a small bow. “Pleased to make your mortal acquaintance, Larellin.”
“I always behave,” the next one strides in and stows a long knife into a sheathe at his waist. He’s shorter than Faraday, his hair a deep brown, and the scales at his neck a pale blue. His shirt is long sleeved, and he wears leather pants that have a number of blades tucked here and there.
“Fyan, the youngest,” Vander says.
“The best, he means.” He sits across from me and leans back in his chair, his curious gaze on me.
“I’m Rivon.” The final brother strides in, his dark brown skin accented by the orange scales at his throat. “The reasonable one among us.”
He’s the only one who smiles, his eyes warming right along with the rest of his handsome face.
Fyan whistles. “Gods, how long has it been since you’ve seen that?” He elbows Faraday.
“He’s usually grumpy,” Faraday tells me conspiratorially. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s ornery and mean. Never tells a joke. Definitely never laughs at one.”
“I’m not grumpy.” Rivon settles beside Faraday, all three of them across the table from me. Vander sits at the head with me to his right. Does this mean Vander is the eldest?
“You’re all dragons?” I ask, noting the scales. I don’t see wings on any of them, but I know they must have them just like Vander. Where do they go? Do they tuck in? Or do they disappear like the dragon form? I have a lot to learn about the DragonKin.
“Yes,” Rivon answers. “You haven’t told her anything?” His tone is slightly chiding as he speaks to Vander.
“Her recovery was far more important than whatever inconsequential details I might tell her about any of you. It could wait.”
“Inconsequential? Me? You must be joking.” Faraday puts a hand to his silver chest. “Was he always this sassy?” he asks Fyan in a matter-of-fact tone. “I feel like there’s no way he’s always been this sassy. I would’ve noticed, right?”
“Yes. I mean, he did go through that taciturn phase what, like two or three centuries ago? Remember when that eclipse happened and the banshees went on the march? It was right around then. But, yeah, other than that, always sassy.”
Lenka backs into the dining room from the kitchen, a wide platter in her arms. “Well, look who it is.” She smiles and hurries over to me, placing the platter in the center of the table.
“So glad to see you down here with the boys.” She gives me a side hug, her warmth buffeting my cheek, then she looks around the table and her tone turns stern.
“Glad to see you all on your best behavior for our guest. No fisticuffs at dinner. No hijinks. None of that.” Then she gives me another warm smile. “I’ll bring your vegetables.”
Faraday and Fyan exchange a look, and Fyan fakes a gagging motion.
“What?” It takes more courage than it should, but I ask Fyan directly. “Why did you do that?”
He shrugs. “I already won the bet about you eating—”
Faraday grumbles under his breath.