Chapter 8 #2
For some insane reason, the fact that this man dared to mock me straightened my spine. Damn him. I could pull off the role of a lady if I wanted. I’d be a far better royal than Penelope. That was for sure. “And what makes you so certain I’m not royalty?”
His reply was a wicked smile. His gaze slid—deliberately, insolently—down my body.
I stiffened, fighting not to squirm. His stare lingered on my legs, then lifted, eyes darkening in a proprietary way that made my chest tighten.
A dangerous heat flickered across his visage, then vanished as quickly as it appeared.
He bit into his apple with a savage crunch. “Beyond the obvious, I know you are no lady because I spotted the royal family fleeing like rats from a sinking ship. Their wagon was loaded with all their worldly goods as they abandoned Nefarr.”
A cold pang twisted inside of me. “So, they survived.” I snorted, thoughts jumping to how that might affect my newfound freedom.
What did it matter if they lived? They were still gone, abandoning us like yesterday’s refuse.
That had to mean I remained free. At the thought, a tingle of delight coursed through me.
Speck too. We were free-folk now. If I could sneak back into the manor and retrieve the coins I’d saved, the two of us could finally start new lives together. Free lives.
“Whoa.” Thorne held his hands out. “Calm your enthusiasm. Your concern for your fearless leader is, dare I say, overwhelming.”
I folded my arms, lifting my chin. Let him think the worst of me. What did I care what the ruffian thought? After all, it was the dragon who’d saved me from the monsters at the lake. I owed his companion nothing.
Although he may have some inkling of how the village fared.
“What about the others? Did the villagers escape?” Speck. I had to get to Speck.
Thorne shrugged, lounging against the table as if none of this mattered. “That lot? The Puritans couldn’t escape a flock of flutterflies.”
I strangled my frustration, desperate enough to beg. “Please tell me.”
“Some survived,” the dragon offered before Thorne could deny my request. “Much to their detriment. Most of the living I spotted were in chains. Only those who got out quickly, like your royals, seem to have escaped.”
Speck was likely with his flock when the attack occurred. With any luck, he’d been spared. Except, with his twisted leg, he would have been encumbered. Easy prey. I’d check the pasture first. Find him and then leave this place.
“Who was it that attacked your village, anyway?” Thorne paused in his chewing. “I mean, sure, the Puritans are bigoted, small-minded snobs. But as far as I could tell, they had no real enemies.”
I opened my mouth to counter the slight and then closed it again. He wasn’t wrong. “You’ll think me crazed.” I nibbled my bottom lip, casting a cautious glance at the dragon, who studied me with an expression I couldn’t discern. Thankfully, my bladder no longer loosened when meeting his gaze.
“I already think you crazed,” Thorne said with false cheer that ground my teeth together.
“Fine then. It wasn’t men but monsters.” I tilted my chin, daring him to contradict me. “Ravenous creatures. Some consumed flesh, while others sucked the life from the fallen. I’d never seen anything like it.”
“I should have known you would lie again.” Thorne snorted. “That’s imposs—”
“Wendigos,” Alaric cut in.
I peered up at the beast. “You’re familiar with the creatures?”
“I haven’t seen one in a long time.” Alaric’s manner was subdued. “They exist underground, only surfacing to feed.” He exchanged a look with Thorne that I didn’t understand.
The blue-eyed devil chucked his apple core into the corner. “Nobody has seen them because they were all destroyed hundreds of years ago. Along with their leader.”
Alaric’s low growl rumbled through my bones. “Do you honestly think that I wouldn’t recognize them?” His gaze speared Thorne like a blade. “They’ve awakened.”
That daggered glare had little effect, it seemed, as Thorne sneered. “What I think is, if you truly saw a wendigo, then it was a paltry cell. The pull of the comet likely woke them from hibernation. They’ll retreat into whatever hell they crawled out of once it’s passed.”
“We can hope.” Discontent hardened the slant of Alaric’s brow.
I paced to the dragon’s side and back, confidence growing in the belief that he wouldn’t have saved me only to eat me.
Mostly. “Stray cell or not, they destroyed my village. There could still be survivors. I have to go back.” I could search for Speck on the way.
Stop at what remained of Rottbarry Manor, help the injured, and grab my savings.
That done, Speck and I could take ourselves far away from here.
“You will not return to that place.” Alaric’s commanding voice thundered inside my mind.
While I was accustomed to receiving orders, this one set my teeth on edge.
I planted my hands on my hips, struggling not to cower before the powerful beast. A skill I’d practiced often around Master Mortis. “I’m a healer. There could be people there who require my assistance.”
“First she’s royalty, now she’s a healer.” Thorne sauntered to the hearth in a cocky manner I was coming to loathe. “What’s next?”
“I forbid it,” Alaric stated simply, puffing a small cloud of smoke through his nostrils.
Those three words lit a fire in my gut. With the high ruler gone, I was one of the free-folk. Free-folk didn’t take orders. “You forbid it?”
Thorne chuckled, the strained sound far from humorous. He stared into the flames, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Little factoid, Princess. When a dragon saves a life, that life forevermore belongs to the dragon.”
His dark gaze lifted, locking onto the scowling beast. “Remember, you saved Serafina from the wendigos. Therefore, she is your problem, not mine.”
Alaric and Thorne stared at each other for a long moment. Something odd transpired between the two that I couldn’t discern. All I knew was that hearing those words from Thorne’s mouth made my heart ache, a sharp sense of betrayal scraping my nerves.
Until finally, Alaric dipped his head, putting us at eye level. “Thorne is correct. According to our laws, I saved your life. Therefore, it belongs to me. Making you mine to command.”
My chest tightened, a feeling of dread settling over me. I got free of one master, only to be saddled with another. A dragon. What would it even mean to belong to a mythical creature?
Think, Sera. Think. I stretched my frame up to my fullest height, speaking in a way a free person might.
“I am a trained healer, schooled in the use of herbs and medicines. I studied under the tutelage of a powerful hag. It would be a waste of my talents to keep me here when there are people who need me.” Sure, I’d been a slave to the high ruler.
That didn’t mean I held any animosity toward the common folk.
“Besides, what good is one Puritan to you?” For that matter, why bother to even save me?
“By your own words, you claim to be a healer,” Alaric growled, hiking up his wing. “Just so happens, I’m in need of one.”
I gasped. His scales gaped apart, raw flesh swollen between them, skin discolored. I couldn’t help but step closer before I caught myself. Flark. He wasn’t bluffing. And I’d trapped myself with my own argument.
“Those wounds are festering.” My healer’s instinct flared. “What happened?”
“Hunters,” Alaric grated.
“Hunters? What kind of fools would hunt a dragon?” Sure, I may have thrown a pile of dung at the beast not so long ago. But that hardly counted.
“The dead kind.” Thorne stabbed an iron poker at the embers in the hearth. The orange glow cast his perfect features in a devilish light. “Regardless, if we were to let you leave, and you told someone Alaric was here, his life would be in danger. We can’t have that.”
The threat in his tone sent a shiver through me. “I won’t. I wouldn’t.”
Thorne’s lips curled, dangerous blue eyes flashing as he tightened his grip on the iron rod he held. “Of course, you won’t. Because you’ll be here, where Alaric can keep an eye on you.”
“There’s no point in arguing, Serafina,” the dragon stated with that authoritative calm of his. “Your people are all gone. Your village destroyed. You’ve nothing to return to.”
“That can’t be true.” My throat tightened. “Surely, there is someone left.” What of Rose and Cookie? The woman from the laundry who enjoyed the balm I’d created for her chapped hands. The widow with the aching hip I’d tended only yesterday. They couldn’t all be gone.
“Don’t believe us? See for yourself.” Thorne dropped his poker with a clang, striding toward the darkened corridor.
I was unable to resist following. Sunlight illuminated the end of the path, and an expansive stone platform stretched out before us. Beyond that was nothing but sky.
I gasped, flutterflies doing somersaults in my stomach. “What is this?”
“Flight deck,” Thorne said. “Watch that first step.”
I edged closer, my pulse racing as the world opened beneath me. “That’s Nefarr in the distance.” I scanned the steep craggy walls that stretched out on either side of the platform. I knew those dark cliffs. “We’re inside Gravestone Mountain.”
My crimson curls blew across my face, carried on a gust of wind.
I peeled a piece from my gaping mouth, glancing at Thorne.
“I’ve heard tales of people who once lived up here, but they were all folklore.
Many told stories of ghosts who lingered in the shadows of the mountain. Are you saying they were true?”
My gaze dropped to the valley floor—and my heart cracked.
Smoke coiled from the cottages. Not a single farmer tended his field.
Children didn’t frolic in their yards. The dirt-packed streets were empty.
At the center was Rottbarry Manor. Several walls of the keep lay broken and crumbled. The destruction was overwhelming.
I covered my mouth, speaking through my fingers. “It truly is gone.”