Chapter 10
EXPOSED AND DISCONNECTED
Arioch
When I opened my eyes, the daylight streaming through my bedchamber windows drove a lance through my skull.
Exhaustion was a siren in my soul, desperate to lure me back to sleep.
A ravenous demon had taken up residence in my gut and demanded sustenance, forcing me to admit how truly grievous my wounds must have been to leave me so depleted and starving.
Loath as I was to admit it, Ziara could have ended my life. And that one action would have dire consequences for my people. No manor could survive without the magic of a lord or lady.
Determination set my jaw as I hauled myself upright. The simple task was more of a struggle than I cared to admit, but a new purpose drove me. My vision swam, and my stomach roiled as I set my feet on the floor, and I breathed through it.
The wounds on my chest had sealed, but the flesh and tissue were still red and raw, tugging at every movement. Soon, it would heal completely, leaving behind no scars. For now, I simply needed to endure. Gritting my teeth through the pain, I rose from my bed.
The little thief and I would cross blades again, and I had to prepare.
Next time, I would show no mercy.
I conjured a pair of trousers, since bending to manually pull them on seemed inadvisable at best.
Magic coalesced by the window, and a being standing barely over two feet tall appeared. Properly dressed in his self-appointed and unnecessary uniform of a suit and tie, the brownie wrung his hands as he lurched forward with a bow.
“M’lord.” As he stood, his beady eyes took in the angry lines on my chest and widened in shock. “It is true. You were attacked.”
I forced my jaw to relax and unclenched my fists. “I was.”
He frowned. “Please do not trouble yourself to rise. You need your rest, and I have the situation under control.”
If he meant to reassure me, he failed spectacularly.
Of all the beings who called my manor home, this diminutive creature inspired annoyance far more often than confidence.
Still, after the ruinous events of last night, I braced myself for more disturbing news and mentally followed the path to my húskarl’s mind.
Any trouble?
No, m’lord, Tyrin replied at once. All is well.
Good. I am awake and will patrol the property after I break my fast. You and the others should rest while you can.
I will assign rotations.
Refocusing on Norval, I asked, “What situation?”
The brownie dipped his head. “The daily operations of the manor, of course. The staff is quite unsettled by the disappearance of the ward, but I have informed them they may address their questions and concerns to me while you are indisposed, getting the rest your healing requires.”
“You overstep.”
My admonishment came out as a growl, and Norval took a step back, clutching his hands in front of him. “My apologies, m’lord, I—”
“I am not so wounded that I would abandon my responsibilities.”
“Of course not. I merely mean to lighten your load during this perilous time.”
Careful not to wince in pain, I straightened. “As you can see, your concern is unnecessary.” I normally humored the brownie, but today, I possessed neither the time nor the energy to indulge his ambitious machinations, so I dismissed him with a wave. “That will be all.”
Disappointment creased his brow, but I ignored him and focused on the parlor where I customarily broke my fast, stepping forward. The manor’s familiar magic condensed around me, extracting me from my chambers and transporting me directly beside the table.
The parlor occupied the southeast corner of the manor, positioned to capture the morning light through colorful stained-glass windows.
The subdued lighting of midday meant I had missed the sunrise and the brilliant shades of emerald, ruby, and sapphire usually cast across the informal mahogany table.
Catori was already seated. Her gaze assessed me as I crossed the room and took my seat, trying not to wince at the tug on my healing muscles.
“You are in pain, hatchling.”
“Nothing I cannot handle.”
Our meal appeared on the table. Today, the kobolds had prepared a hearty venison stew for me and an assortment of nuts and berries for the dryad.
Loaves of fragrant, crusty bread covered a silver platter between us, and steam rose from a teapot painted with delicate cherry blossoms, a gift from a kitsune who had befriended my mother long ago.
My stomach cramped at the sights and smells of the spread, and I picked up my fork and tucked into my stew. The kobolds’ magic enabled them to prepare each dish specifically to satisfy the palate of the diner, and, as always, the fare exceeded expectations.
“Your suffering is unnecessary.” Standing, she produced a packet, seemingly from thin air, and glided over to dump it into my teacup.
I eyed the concoction, swallowing my bite as she lifted the teapot and added the brew. “I have much to do today.”
“This will merely ease the pain. It will not put you back to sleep,” she assured me.
The dryad had never lied to me, and pain relief would only help me accomplish my goals, so I lowered my fork long enough to cool the brew with a breath and drain it.
“How did you fare in the dream world?” Catori asked, returning to her seat. “Did the thief disclose anything of use?”
“No. I infiltrated her mind for a time, but she realized she was dreaming and escaped before I could extract any answers.”
Catori’s expression grew thoughtful. “She must be quite powerful, then.”
“She is small and wields no magic. How powerful can she be?”
The side of the dryad’s mouth tilted up. “She bested you, hatchling.”
I took another bite as I considered my response. “She surprised me, granting her an advantage she will not get again.”
“Tricky and perceptive.”
“And dead once I find her and exact my answers.” Emerald eyes flashed through my mind, chased by a host of confusing emotions, and most likely brought on by my injuries. Irritated, I redirected the conversation. “How did your research go?”
“I uncovered many theories about wolf shifters, or werewolves as some authors refer to the creatures, but an alarming number of the beliefs mentioned are unsubstantiated and even contradictory.” She tutted in annoyance.
“Thoughts should only be penned by those with first-hand experience. Hearsay makes it impossible to differentiate fact from fable.”
“Dragons feel the same, I assure you.” Most of our knowledge was passed down through memories stored in our hoards and accessible only to those in our bloodline.
Footsteps preceded Tyrin’s entrance. “It’s common practice for magical races to intentionally pen misinformation to keep others from uncovering dangerous truths,” he observed, giving me a quick bow as he strode through the door. “Pardon my intrusion, m’lord. Catori.”
“Hello, Tyrin.” A welcoming smile stretched across the dryad’s face. “Will you join us for this meal?”
“Thank you, but I ate with the others.” Turning to me, he added, “I only stopped by to check in and advise you that Leander has prepared a vat of silver, should you want to imbue Silentium with it.”
“Are you certain silver is toxic to them?” I asked, even as an ancestor’s memory tugged at the back of my mind, confirming the information.
“The werewolves I have tangled with in the past have reacted poorly to the metal, yes.”
I nodded and swallowed my bite before gesturing at the chair between Catori and me. “I will go see Leander after I eat. Sit with us.”
He acquiesced, and another teacup appeared as he took a seat.
“When was the last time you heard from my sire?” I asked as Tyrin poured himself a cup.
His mouth quirked to the side as he considered the question. “A few months ago. He sent word that he was following another lead on your mother’s murderer. He would have felt the ward fall, though, so I expect we will see him soon.”
“With any luck, he will appear before I leave.”
“When exactly is that?” Tyrin asked.
I flexed my chest, pleasantly surprised to find that the pain had eased significantly due to Catori’s remedy. “The day after tomorrow. Will you accompany me?”
He dipped his head in acceptance. “It would be my honor. Will we take anyone else?”
“No. I will not risk the safety of the estate any more than I must.” I had considered leaving Tyrin behind as well, but my knowledge of the world outside the hedge came from ancestral memories, books, and the stories of my people.
The gargoyles had been nomads before Ieshim called on Tyrin to fulfill his life debt.
And as my húskarl, he would do everything in his power to ensure I made it safely home.
He drained his tea and set the cup down, never one to idly sit and chat.
“Thank you, Tyrin. That will be all for now.”
He stood. “I shall gather supplies and prepare for our trip.”
As he left, I turned to Catori and asked, “Can I count on you to watch over my people in my absence?”
Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed as she slowly chewed and swallowed her bite before answering, “No territory touched by my roots has ever been unprotected. I will destroy anyone who attempts to harm this land or your people, as I have always done.”
“Your power and protection have not now, nor have ever been, in question,” I hastened to assure her. “I only ask because it is my duty to assure their safety, and I would not dream of taking your friendship and support for granted.”
The outrage drained from her eyes, and a smile tugged at her lips. “You are much like your mother, hatchling. She would be truly proud of the dragon you have become.”
Catori’s praise caught me unaware, conjuring painful memories and a bone-deep loneliness I was ill-prepared to face. My hoard contained many memories of Lady Alina Scylla, but very few were my own. My time with my mother had been limited.
Swallowing the lump in my throat that had nothing to do with my meal, I had no response. Thankfully, I did not need one.