Chapter 8
EDEN
I woke to the sound of birdsong.
A pair of goldfinches twittered just outside the window, picking their way through the blackberry brambles, and I groaned, lifting my head off the desk. It felt as heavy as a sack of flour.
I rubbed my eyes, and pain sparked across my forehead.
The candles had melted down to nubs, and cold wax stuck to the desk.
I’d clearly fallen asleep sometime during the night with my head pressed against a pile of metal wire.
I winced, hoping to soothe the ache with a massage, and as I blinked away the pain and the sleep fog, realization dawned.
The chestplate was complete!
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, the ache in my head forgotten as I picked the chestplate up from the cloak stand where I’d propped it. I ran my thumb over the smoothness of the dragon scales, admiring their sheen in the daylight.
It wasn’t perfect by any means. There were gaps in the armor where I’d run out of scales, and my sewing job wasn’t great in places, but it was my first solid prototype. I’d actually finished it.
I stood, holding the chestplate aloft. It was heavy enough that the muscles in my arms twinged, and sturdier than anything I’d ever seen a dragon rider wear.
At least, I hoped it was.
For this to truly be a success, it had to withstand a flame.
I needed to test the prototype. My eyes darted back to the window, to the almost-private grounds surrounding the cottage.
It was still early enough that most townsfolk would be tucked away in their beds.
Plus, no one was expecting me at the infirmary. Not yet.
Barring some sort of medical emergency, the likelihood of anyone walking down the path to Bramble Cottage was slim.
I laid the chestplate on my bed and scrambled out of my nightwear into a clean blouse and a long, pleated skirt.
Perhaps it would have been wiser to wait until later—to use the cover of darkness to conduct my testing—but excitement rattled through my veins.
I didn’t want to wait. I twisted my hair into a knot at the base of my neck and strung a shawl over my shoulders in case it was chilly.
Then I gathered up the chestplate and a box of matches and headed outside.
Across the meadow, beyond the growth of wildflowers, was an old tree stump.
It rose up between the brambles, rotted wood blackened like it had fallen victim to some sort of lightning strike.
I carried the chestplate to the stump and propped it up. Then I pulled the box of matches from my pocket, hesitating over the strike paper. I turned back to the cottage and collected a bucket of water.
Now I was ready.
I returned to the tree stump and struck a match, tossing it onto the armor. If the prototype was going to work, the armor needed to resist the flame. And for a moment, it did.
My heart thudded as I watched the flame of the match fizzle out. I prepared a second match, my heart racing in my chest. Had I actually done it?
Before I could get too excited, a thin, gray tendril of smoke rose from the chestplate like a taunting finger.
Oh… no. The smoke sparked into a flame, small at first, but quickly licking up the side of the leather.
The smoke was sickly sweet, burning an odd purple color. The same color as dragon’s blood.
A sour mixture of failure and nerves bubbled in my stomach as I watched the smoke curl into the sky.
Stars!
I wasn’t supposed to be drawing this kind of attention to myself.
A gray plume of smoke, sure. That could be any number of cooking fires.
But this? I picked up the bucket of water next to me and heaved the contents at the chestplate.
The fire hissed as it was doused, but that didn’t stop the smoke. It only made it worse.
I wafted the sweet, purple cloud away from my face.
I couldn’t just stand around with a pile of armor made of dragon scales smoking in my garden. Even if there were no kingsguard in Ember Ridge, I couldn’t be sure some nosy neighbor wouldn’t report it. Perhaps not even maliciously, simply out of concern.
I grabbed a long branch from the edge of the treeline, slipped it through the armhole of the chestplate, and picked it up. I rushed back into the cottage and stuffed the armor into the wood stove.
Plumes of purply smoke surrounded me, and I coughed on that cloying smell.
Panicking, I grabbed the charcoal sketches from the desk, balled up the papers, and stuffed them into the stove as well.
The paper caught quickly, tainting that purple smoke, turning it a sooty black.
I slammed the door on the stove and stumbled back, coughing into my arm.
Bile stuck to my tongue, and that was sweet, too. “Accck!”
I turned and wrenched the front door open, then the window, hoping the smell would dissipate. While I waited, I tidied my desk, hiding away the evidence of my work. Once that was done, I dragged the rocking chair out to the porch and threw myself down in it, sucking in lungfuls of fresh air.
With a clear head, the panic subsided, and a measure of defeat filled me.
I didn’t understand what had gone wrong. When a dragon was blasted with fire, their scales repelled the heat. They didn’t smoke the way the chestplate had. Was that the real problem? Once the scales were no longer attached to a dragon, did they lose their repellent abilities?
I suppose, on a dragon, the scales were alive in a way, imbued with a dragon’s own strength.
Once they’d been shed, maybe that strength faded.
And as beautiful as they still were when I’d collected them, and as strong as they’d felt in my hands, if I couldn’t figure out how to harness their protective qualities, I might as well be tying stones to the armor.
My head thumped back against the rocking chair.
Some silly part of me had actually believed this would work.
I figured the armor would need some tweaks—more scales, extra layers of protection, and added flexibility for movement.
But I never considered that this first attempt would be such a disaster.
And the real problem? That was just regular fire.
Dragon fire burned even hotter. If the armor couldn’t handle a regular old flame, it would never hold up against a blast from a wild dragon.
I sighed, trying not to let my thoughts flicker back to last night.
To the flames that had stood between me and that Black Spot.
To the red light that had appeared at the back of its throat.
To the smell of singed flesh. To the heat that had licked at my skin.
To the way Vaela’s arms had tightened around me before her dragon had swept in to rescue us.
Maybe I was being a fool. What did I really know about dragon riding or dragon fires or any of it? I might be twenty-four now, but I’d only been a child when I lost my father. And this armor was still just a silly little dream.
Perhaps it was time to retire the dream and focus on what I knew best.
Burns.
A clap like thunder sounded, and I jerked upright.
It was the sound of dragon wings, and they were close.
I stood at the edge of the porch, staring into the sky.
A moment later, a hulking shadow swept into view.
It was Vaela and her dragon. They circled the cottage once, then touched down in the meadow.
The force of it sent a shock straight up the bones of my legs. I gripped the porch railing to steady myself, watching as those massive claws turned up the earth, crushing the violet asters into pulp.
“Morning,” Vaela called, sliding down the side of her dragon in one smooth motion.
I cleared my throat, still tasting smoke on my tongue. “Good morning.”
“You’re up early,” she noted.
“So are you,” I said as she drew closer.
Her hair was slightly windswept, loose strands of dark hair pulled from the braid at the back of her head.
Both her trousers and her tunic were black.
They fit her well, forming to her body like a glove, and I couldn’t shake Seraphine’s comments from last night about nice backsides and leather trousers.
I tore my eyes away as my cheeks flamed.
“Didn’t sleep much,” she admitted, stopping at the bottom of the porch steps. “Spent most of the night clearing out debris from the Wiggly Dragon Tooth.”
She glanced up at me, and I could see the dark circles. Her gray eyes were dull and exhausted. For a moment I longed to smooth the lines away, to stroke them until her eyes fluttered closed and I could count her eyelashes. The intensity of the desire spooked me.
“Was anyone else hurt?” I asked. After the fires had been doused, Vaela had helped ferry the injured to the infirmary. She’d stayed long enough for me to wrap her wounded hand with a new bandage, then she’d disappeared.
“Not that I know of,” Vaela said. “But it’s going to be a while before everyone’s favorite pub is back up and running.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“It is,” she agreed. “I was really looking forward to trying their new fireball meat pie. It also means people will be looking for entertainment elsewhere. And that means—”
“Dragons,” I said.
She grimaced. “I’ll increase my patrols around the mountain pass in the meantime. But just so you’re aware, you might have an uptick in visits if the tourists are wandering where they’re not meant to be.”
“Is that why you stopped by?” I wondered. “To give me the heads up?”
She shook her head and gestured to the sky. “Min and I saw the smoke. We were worried and thought we should investigate.”
My stomach plummeted as I turned around.
The smoke spiraling out of the chimney was gray, mostly, but if you stared long enough, the odd tint of purple bled through.
I winced, then immediately softened my expression.
Vaela wasn’t part of the kingsguard, but she was the closest thing to authority in Ember Ridge.
Plus, she had a dragon. She could reach the kingsguard outpost rather quickly if she wanted to.
My pulse hammered at the base of my throat. I swallowed down the flutter of panic as I faced her. “That’s just my breakfast.”
“Your breakfast?” she said, suspicion laced into her tone. I watched one dark eyebrow arch up her forehead.
“What?” I said, crossing my arms. “Can a woman not make herself breakfast?”
“That’s a lot of smoke.” She huffed a laugh. “What did you do, torch it?”
My jaw fell in indignation. I snapped it shut, bristling. “I’m an excellent cook.”
“I meant no offense.” Her face said otherwise.
“Much offense taken,” I muttered darkly.
The corner of her mouth curled into a small smile. “Just remind me not to take you up on breakfast any time soon.”
“You’d have to be invited first, so no concerns there.” She smirked, and that irritated me even more. “Since you weren’t invited, feel free to see yourself out.”
Vaela climbed onto the first porch step, cocking her head. “It’s just that the smoke was an unusual color.”
“Looks normal to me,” I lied.
She hummed, eyes flicking to the sky then back to me. “Does it?”
I lifted my shoulder. “I forgot I already had some lavender in the oven. I was toasting it. For the smell. Maybe that’s the color you saw.”
“Right. Sure.”
Her dragon stalked around the edge of the cottage, inhaling, those massive nostrils flaring. She turned one pearly black eye on me, and I could almost hear what she was thinking.
Liar.
Did they know what was currently burning in my oven? I glanced between them, feeling cornered. Vaela’s gaze bored into mine. It was like she was trying to peer right past my skull to the truth.
I threw my hands up. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother townsfolk with inane questions?”
She glanced at Min, tilting her head. “Do we?” The dragon snorted, a puff of steam leaking from her nostrils. “No, our morning is pretty open.”
I huffed at her response. “Well, I would like to be left to enjoy the quiet, thank you very much.”
“And your breakfast?”
“Yes, my breakfast.”
“I’m sure it will be delicious,” she said, lips twitching. “As charred as it is.”
I curled my hands around my elbows. She was messing with me. Min knew I was lying. Vaela knew I was lying.
“What were you making, by the way?” She inhaled. “Smells sweet.”
“That’s because it’s sweet bread.”
“Min loves sweet bread.”
“She wouldn’t like this one.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” I said, gritting my teeth at her persistence. “It’s—”
“Yes?” Vaela’s eyes held mine, testing me.
Bah! I wasn’t going to stand here and let her toy with me like this. If she wanted to accuse me of something, then so be it. “It’s not for dragons,” I snapped and turned on my heel.
“Wait,” Vaela called, her hand shooting out, catching the crook of my arm. A shiver ran through me at the touch, goosebumps flushing across my body. “I really didn’t mean to be a nuisance.”
“Could have fooled me,” I murmured.
“Eden,” she said. My name was soft on her tongue. Pleading. And something flip-flopped in my stomach. “The smoke was just a coincidence. I mainly just wanted to stop by and see how you were feeling after last night.”
I looked back at her, studying the anxious expression on her face. “I’m fine,” I insisted. “Like I told you yesterday. I appreciate your help in the matter, but—”
“But?” Her eyebrows knitted together. “Eden, you were frozen solid in the middle of that courtyard.”
I swallowed hard. “Yes, and?”
A startled laugh escaped her. “Why didn’t you flee with everyone else?”
What did I tell her? Because the terror had rooted me to the spot?
Because all I could hear as those flames flickered around me was my mother’s wail?
Because my father had been consumed by dragon fire, and now the sight of it left me paralyzed?
Her concern sounded genuine, but I was no one to her, and it was none of her business anyway.
“Eden!” I turned to see Matty hurrying down the path from the infirmary, his curls dancing along his forehead. He waved to get my attention. “New burns are incoming,” he shouted. “Something about a wyrm attack.”
I turned back to Vaela, relieved to have an excuse to end this conversation.
“Duty calls?” she said.
I nodded. “Duty calls.”