Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
Drozel
When Zasen told me he was sending me back to Lorsa with the militia, I'd been pissed. However, Rymar had talked to Omden, giving him a little more detail about their plan. So, when I'd thrown myself into bed, ready to rant, Omden had convinced me this was a good idea.
Our girls were at home. If the Moles didn't have a schedule anymore, those women were at risk, and I'd sworn I'd protect Meri.
Now, I had another wounded little bird to care for.
I just wasn't sure if this one was a bird of prey like my partner.
He definitely wasn't a harmless little sparrow like Meri.
This one might be more dangerous than I wanted to admit.
But Zasen wanted me to flip the guy. Sylis might know something, he'd told me.
Ayla had mentioned he'd kissed Tobias. Combined, I had a few ideas, but my main concern was how Meri would handle this.
Then again, Lessa did have that empty room at her place now, and I didn't doubt she'd sting this Mole if he fucked up. Shit, she'd probably enjoy it.
So once the sun rose, I dragged my ass out of bed, ready to make the long trek back - and found a trio of carts being hooked up. The massive horses these people used to plow their fields were being hitched, so we wouldn't be traveling fast, but it was still a lot faster than walking.
"Why three carts?" I called as I headed over to check what was going on.
It was Irrik who met me at the rearmost cart. "So, I'm headed back to Lorsa with you. We're taking wounded. You get a free ride as our thanks for helping with them."
I crossed my arms and looked down at the brazen tailless man. "Mhm." There had to be more to it than that.
He grunted, unimpressed with my attitude. "We do have tea, Drozel. You look like you need some."
"I was up late." Saving these people.
Which was when Omden caught up, wrapping his tail around the backs of my legs as he moved to my side. "Going to see your kid, huh?" That was to Irrik, but Omden made up for it by passing me a tin cup filled with warm and sweetened tea.
I took a long drink, needing it. The two and a half hours of sleep I'd gotten weren't enough, but the feel of Omden's tail writhing against my calf? That made it a lot better. He wasn't usually the type to be cuddly in public.
"Yeah, I have a kid," Irrik beamed. "And I know Meri's staying with you two, so let me know if I need to step lightly around her?"
"No, you're fine," I assured him, deciding I wasn't too annoyed. The caffeine probably helped. "She's okay talking about it. She also picked Jeera and Brielle. Mostly, she wants to make sure the baby never becomes a Mole."
"Gotcha," Irrik said. "And I'm going to let you two ride with the informant here in the last cart." He patted the bed of it beside him. "Enough of my people want to kill him that it's safer this way."
And that was how it started. Loading all the seriously injured took a while.
Many of them couldn't walk, but some could.
Others had broken bones, but all in all, we didn't have as many as I'd feared.
Mostly, it was Lorsa's militia members who filled the second cart.
Half were going back to protect our own town.
Irrik drove the one we were in, so Sylis, Omden, and I got the back of it to ourselves.
As we left the Reaper's camp, I was stunned at the damage to the forest. Trees had been splintered with gunshots, although one thing was missing. It took me a bit to figure it out, but when the pieces finally clicked, I felt even better about this.
"They didn't use grenades," I told Omden, speaking in English.
He nudged my arm, waiting until I lifted it before sliding in to lean against me. "What do you think it means?"
"Maybe they're out?"
And a weak voice answered. "Too many of us died."
"Good morning," I said, looking over at where Sylis rocked on his makeshift bed each time the cart hit a bump. "How are you feeling?"
"How do you speak English?" he asked.
"We live with Merienne," Omden said. "We learned to help her."
"How?" Sylis asked next.
"We have books from before the world was ruined," I explained. "The language of that time was English. It shifted over the centuries to what we now call Vestrian."
"Westrian," Omden said, doing his best to pronounce it with an English accent. "It was called that because the western part of the continent shifted their words one way, the eastern another. It's a lot like English with a different accent - and some letters pronounced differently."
"You'll pick it up quickly," I promised.
But the man's eyes were hanging on where my arm was wrapped around Omden's shoulders.
He kept trying to look at my face, but his gaze always returned to that gentle embrace.
I couldn't help but wonder if my partner had decided to cuddle in public for more than simply the contact. Then again, it was a good idea.
"What's going to happen to me?" Sylis asked next.
Omden leaned forward. "We cannot trust you, Sylis. You are a Mole, and your people kill ours. The Phoenix said to help you, so we are, but you still have to prove yourself. You understand that, right?"
"But I'm going to die," he said, glancing down at his belly.
I traced the red lines beside Omden's eye and whispered, "Don't scare him, darling."
Omden looked at me, clearly struggling not to smile. "I'm being honest. Don't treat him like he's stupid. He knows this isn't our main language."
I murmured, realizing he had a point. "Okay, fair enough.
" Then I looked down at Sylis, who was lying just in front of my feet.
"Your wound is minor. It has already been cleaned with something that works much better than alcohol.
When we get to Lorsa - our town - a doctor will make sure the trip didn't make things worse, check the stitches, and give you medication to prevent an infection. "
"But what if I already have one?" he asked, looking between the two of us desperately.
"Doesn't work like that," Irrik said from the front.
"You worry about driving," I told him, glancing back with a smile to make sure he knew I was mostly teasing.
But Omden told Sylis, "Antibiotics kill the infection. Even if it's there, it will kill it and remove it. For us, this is basic knowledge. It's common enough we don't even worry about it. To us, your wound is minimal."
"Which means," I said, "you're going to live."
He closed his eyes and a smile took over. "And I don't have to marry Felicity."
The relief on his face? I couldn't imagine feeling that way.
Then again, I had no problem with women, but Omden?
He'd struggled, trying to figure out his sexuality when he was a boy.
I hadn't known him back then, but the stories he'd told?
The confusion? That had been hard enough for him.
Adding on a forced relationship to a woman he was repulsed by?
I couldn't even imagine what that would've been like.
"Sylis?" I did my best to make my voice sound gentle. "I'm going to ask you a question. You do not have to answer it, but I'm curious. Are there any women you would marry if you could?"
"Or is it only Tobias?" Omden asked.
"No - " the man tried, going so far as to attempt to sit up.
I pressed him back down by his shoulder. "Just lie there. I said you didn't have to answer."
"It was a mistake," Sylis said. "I just tripped - "
I snorted out a laugh, impressed by how bad his excuse was. "You tripped and fell face first into some man's mouth?"
"Next time," Omden told him, "say he turned as you went to look over his shoulder."
But I made a noise. "Tobias is as tall as me. Sylis isn't."
"They could've been sitting," Omden pointed out. "I mean... Hey, is that a grenade blast?" And he pointed to the side.
I looked. I should've known, but Omden had picked the one thing I'd been thinking about, so I couldn't stop myself. When I realized what he'd done, I turned back, ready to tell him that wasn't funny. But the moment I faced him, Omden pressed in, pushing his lips against mine.
The kiss was quick, fast, and not deep enough to be a big deal, but he'd proven his point. I was tempted to press for more, but I resisted. Still, at this rate, I was going to throw this man in bed when we got home and make sure he knew taunting me worked out well for him in the end.
"See?" Omden teased, smiling at me like he could read my thoughts. "Sitting, the height isn't a problem at all."
"Oh, you keep that up and it won't be a little peck you get away with," I warned, sliding my tail down to twine with his. "I will kiss the shit out of you."
"He doesn't know what shit means," Omden reminded me.
"And I wasn't talking to him," I countered. "I mean it, Om. No teasing me - too much."
But Sylis had fallen silent. I checked, worried the man might be worse off than I thought, but found him staring up at the trees as they passed, squinting hard against the bright light.
His cheeks were red and splotchy. His hands were clenched under the blanket, and I swore the man was doing his best to pretend he was already a corpse.
"Relax," I said.
"You weren't supposed to know I'd done that," Sylis said, still watching the trees - what little he could see of them. "And now you're taunting me for it. I can't believe Tobias said anything. I thought he was my friend."
"Is," Omden said, letting go of me to scoot closer to the man.
"Tobias heard the big Dragon over there is my lover.
That's similar to a husband, but better.
He told Ayla you had to stay up here because you deserve to be happy.
That's why he said you'd kissed him. She told us - " I grumbled, which made Omden pause, but he kept going without even looking over.
"-and now you get to see that no one cares. "
"Because he's huge," Sylis mumbled. "Of course no one would say anything. They wouldn't to Tobias either - for the same reason."
"Not how it works," Omden said. "This? The attraction to men? It's how you were born. Dragons accept that."
"Too much," I said, easing myself up so I could step across the man and sit on his other side.
That would keep him from having to twist his neck so much to see me.
"Sylis, we are Dragons. I'm Drozel. He's Omden.
The man driving is Irrik, who is a Reaper.
Not a wild man, but one who reaps the crops he sows. "
"Oh."
I nodded. "We are not evil. Many of us don't believe in your god. Others do. Many of us like women. Some of our women like women. Many of us like men. Some of our men like men. But here's what separates our people from yours."
"You don't eat us?" he guessed.
"So you know that much," I said, relieved to hear it.
"We also believe people should be allowed to do what they want.
To sew, to dance, to drink, or love, or anything else.
That approval, however, ends when it harms someone else.
You cannot tell me to do something because you think it's right.
I cannot make you do something because I think it's the way it should be.
No harming others. That means no punishing women.
No attacking anyone. Do you understand?"
"I don't know," he said. "Tobias told me we could do what we wanted up here, but I'm not sure when it would harm someone."
"Well, shooting us is pretty obvious," I told him. "But we'll help you figure it out, because you're going to be staying with us."
"Droz..." Omden said.
I lifted a hand. "In our house or Lessa's.
I already thought it through, but I want him close.
If he's a spy for the Moles?" And I flicked my tail up and looked back at Sylis.
"I will kill you, do you understand? If you harm my people, I will sting you with my venom, and it will burn.
Every inch of your body will be consumed by pain until you die from it. "
"I don't want to die," he whimpered.
So I put my stinger away and lowered my tail. "Then help us? I know you don't know how, but we'll figure it out. That doesn't mean this is going to be easy. You have killed my friends. You've eaten them!"
"Not once I knew," he insisted. "I swear that. After my first hunt, I never ate the meat again. I even helped Tobias and Callah when they needed an excuse. I claimed it was punishment for Tobias once, since I was his squad leader!"
"Which is a good start," Omden said. "The rest? We will heal you. We will save your life, but you're not one of the women. You aren't the victim here, Sylis. You were one of the men making it all happen."
And the guy lifted his chin in the best defiance he could offer while lying on his back. "And I didn't have a choice either. That's what you don't understand. Everyone down there is someone else's victim. The question is whether they like it or not."
I simply leaned back. "And I think he just gave us the first useful bit of information. Keep it up, Sylis. That? That will help us save the good Moles. Without it, we will kill all of you before we let you kill us."
"I know," he said. "But not Tobias? Please? He's a good man, and he's my friend. I know we didn't get the code, but we've been trying! It just isn't easy. So kill me if you have to, but not him?"
"Not him," I assured him, deciding this guy deserved a chance.
Because that? That was the sort of desperation I'd only seen twice before: in Ayla and Meri.
I just hadn't realized what it was the first time, and had been too damned big to help the second.
But this little bird? He wasn't a meek and harmless sparrow.
He also wasn't a hawk. He was a bit of both, just like the kestrel, often called a sparrow hawk.
"Close your eyes, kestrel," I told him. "Sleep while you can. It'll make the trip easier, and you have a long journey ahead of you."
"Kestrel?" Omden asked.
I shrugged. "Just go with it."
"Kestrel it is," he agreed, smiling proudly at me over the wounded man between us.