Chapter 4
EDEN
“Knock, knock!” a familiar voice called, rapping on my door. “Eden, are you in?”
I glanced up from my desk with a start. I’d been hunched over my sketchbook, using the last of the afternoon light to sharpen my drawing, and I hadn’t even heard the footsteps on the porch.
“Uh… who is it?” I already knew who it was.
“Nisse!”
“Coming, one second.” I scrambled to hide the drawing, closing my sketchbook and stuffing it under the pillow on the bed.
Bramble Cottage was a homey little place, less than a three-minute walk down the path behind the infirmary.
Aptly named, it was nestled in a thicket of brambles, ripe blackberries curling against the windows and on vines along the porch railing.
A thicket of trees rose up on one side of the tiny building, and a meadow filled with the late-blooming violet aster and red-orange chrysanthemums bordered the other.
Inside, the furniture was sparse—a bed, desk and rocking chair, with a wood stove for cooking and heat—but the little touches of patterned quilts, soft rugs, and cute ceramic crockery made it warm and welcoming. As had the note that Gunther had left me that read Welcome home, my dear.
I darted to the door and swung it open, finding Nisse standing there in her layered shawls. Her fingers were still bandaged from when she’d nicked herself with a paring knife earlier today. I’d done the wound care myself.
She smiled. “Glad you’re still here. I thought you might have gone into town already to meet everyone.”
“I was about to leave,” I lied. “Just had a couple of things to tidy up first.” After yesterday’s rather intense introduction to the infirmary, Matty had insisted we all go out to celebrate my arrival.
I’d managed to bow out yesterday, claiming I needed at least one night to settle into my new abode, but I hadn’t been able to talk myself out of it tonight.
So, the Wiggly Dragon Tooth pub awaited my arrival.
I’d been promised good ale and even better company. “Why are you still here?”
“Working late,” Nisse said. “I sent Poppy out foraging earlier, and she returned with fresh lavender that I wanted to hang before I left. The infirmary is going to smell divine as it dries.”
I’d finally met Nisse’s thirteen-year-old apprentice. Poppy was quiet, both in conversation and on her feet, darting through the infirmary before you’d even realized she was there. Matty affectionately called her Mouse, and she looked as if one hot gust of dragon breath could knock her over.
Today she’d had a flower crown threaded into her hair and wore a frock filled with deep pockets where she collected all manner of things—pine nuts, acorns, bits of lemon grass.
She’d apparently grown up in a cottage deep in the woods outside of Ember Ridge.
Her mother and her aunt had been foragers, so she had an almost expert knowledge of where to find the ingredients Nisse needed for all her salves and poultices.
“What’s all this?” Nisse asked, intrigued as she brushed past me toward the desk.
“Oh, nothing,” I said, darting after her to where I’d left my charcoal and the bunched-up sketches that were destined for the rubbish. “Just making a list of all things I still need to do in the cottage. It helps me decompress after a long day.”
My gaze landed on the small bag of dragon scales I’d forgotten about on the bed, and my eyes almost bugged out of my head. I slipped the bag into my pocket before Nisse noticed.
“Hmm, well, I prefer a soak in a hot tub myself,” she said, “though I can’t be bothered boiling that much water.
There’s a lovely little hot spring up the mountain, but I wouldn’t venture out that way during the migration.
” She gave me a wry grin, tipping her head. “The little dragons also love a soak.”
I grinned. “All I’m imagining now is Seraphine chasing them out of the hot spring with that broom of hers.”
Nisse threw her head back and laughed, jangling the long pendant necklaces that were strung around her neck.
“She would, too! Perhaps after the migration is over, I’ll take you up there.
The mountain pass is gorgeous when all the dragons and the tourists clear out. The views alone are worth the hike.”
“I’d love that,” I said, finding that I actually meant it. When I’d taken Gunther up on his offer, I knew working with him again would be like slipping on a favorite sweater—warm and comforting—but I hadn’t imagined taking to the infirmary or its staff so quickly.
I wasn’t exactly the most outgoing person, usually preferring to keep my own company, but I’d been pleasantly surprised at how quickly we were all bonding.
Then again, the infirmary staff was quite a small bunch compared to the busy academy where I’d previously worked.
Plus, a genuine medical emergency had a way of bringing people together, and this team had certainly tackled that head-on the moment I arrived.
“Anyway, what’s the visit about? Is it Gunther? Has he finally returned?”
“No,” she said, lips pursed. “Funny story. A pigeon missing half its feathers turned up about an hour ago with a note from him. Apparently, he’s gotten waylaid by some sort of dragon blockade.”
“Blockade?” I said, jerking back with concern. That didn’t sound good. “Does he need help? Should we… I don’t know, send someone after him?” But who would we send? A dragon wrangler would be the logical choice. I wrinkled my nose at that. “Maybe we should alert the kingsguard.”
Nisse waved me off. “Honestly, he sounded quite amused by the entire thing. There’s probably nothing to worry about.”
I frowned. “Probably?”
She patted my shoulder reassuringly. “He’ll be all right. Gunther’s spent years working in these mountains.”
I knew that. Logically. But I still wasn’t exactly comforted by the thought of him facing off against some stubborn dragon alone.
“There are often disturbances on the road when the migration is happening,” Nisse continued. “Some slow, bumbling dragon is probably blocking the way, and he’s waiting for it to move.” She picked up the bit of charcoal I’d been using and rubbed it between her fingers.
“Right, uh, is that all you came to tell me?” I asked, changing the subject before she could inquire about my sketches again. “That Gunther was delayed?”
“Oh, no,” she said, wiping her fingers on her shawl. “I meant to say that the wrangler returned to have her wound looked at.”
“Has she?” I blinked at her. Interesting.
Nisse frowned. “You sound surprised. Did you not tell her to come back, or am I misremembering?”
I lifted my shoulder. “After the way yesterday went, I didn’t really expect to see her again unless someone carried her back here unconscious.”
Nisse chuckled. “That Vaela Frixsar is somewhat stubborn, isn’t she? I suppose most wranglers are. I think you have to be at least a little hard-headed to think climbing onto a dragon’s back is a good idea. Never mind actually making a career out of it.”
“I think reckless is the word you’re looking for,” I muttered, still remembering the perturbed look on her face when I’d demanded to know why she hadn’t been wearing her safety gloves.
“Yes, that too,” Nisse said with an odd grin. “Anyway, Gunther’s usually the after-hours call, but since he’s not here…”
“Right.” I sighed. “I’ll go in and see her.”
“Do you think you’ll need me?” Nisse asked. “If not, I’ll head down to the pub and save you a seat. It’s always rammed during the migration.”
“It’s a straightforward dressing change, so I shouldn’t need any extra hands,” I said. “I just want to make sure it’s not getting infected.”
She nodded, following me back to the door. “Take whatever you need from the store cupboards in the apothecary. Disinfectant is on the shelf above the jar stand. Everything else is labeled.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you in a few.” I waved as she disappeared down the path. When she was out of sight, I exhaled, touching that bag of dragon scales in my pocket.
The relief didn’t last long, though. Not with the wrangler waiting for me.
* * *
“Took you long enough,” a voice growled as I cut through the apothecary and into the waiting room where Vaela stood, cloaked in the hungry shadow of dusk.
She turned to me, arms crossed and lips pursed.
Displeased didn’t even begin to cover it.
As she stepped in front of the window, her expression was kissed by the golden light of sunset, and I couldn’t help but notice the way those gray eyes flashed.
They were like sparks cast off lit firewood, and I would have stared until the light disappeared if not for the way she huffed.
I wrenched my eyes away, carrying my supplies to the exam table. “Last time I checked, the hours of operation are posted on the door,” I said evenly, trying not to think about how a scowl could look so damn good. “It’s not my problem that you can’t adhere to them.”
“A dragon wrangler’s schedule doesn’t adhere to your hours of operation,” she bit out, coming closer. “If I were in desperate need of medical attention, I might have bled out by now.”
“Which is why you should remember to bleed out during business hours,” I quipped.
Judging by the way her nostrils flared, she wasn’t amused.
“Oh, come on,” I said, giving her a flat look. “The hours weren’t even set by me. They’re Gunther’s. If you have a problem, take it up with him.”
“Gladly,” she said. Her tone said anything to avoid dealing with you, and I had to admit, I agreed. Vaela’s gaze flicked about the room. “Where is he, anyway?”
I shrugged. “There’s a blockade.”
Her scowl shifted, confusion tugging those thin, dark eyebrows closer together. “A blockade of what?”
“Dragons.”
“What does that mean?”
“How should I know? You’re the dragon wrangler.”
She snorted, the sound more amused than vexed. “I don’t wrangle blockades.”
“No, you just manage the influx of dragon activity in small mountain communities and almost get your hand chewed off.”