28. A Deep Dark Pool
A Deep Dark Pool
He’s alone,” Danhy says between bites of roasted mutton in a verdaberry chutney. She licks the oily green herbs from her fingers, clearly enjoying the meal I helped Viggo prepare.
I’m back to my kitchen duties, although Viggo is notably taciturn with me. Clearly, my escape attempt left him disappointed in me.
I don’t waste time worrying about Viggo’s disappointment in me, though. I have other things to think about. Like Tage and whether I’m going to sleep in his den again . . . and whether he will be joining me there and whether I want him to?
All very good questions with answers that elude me.
“If he belongs to a pride, we would have seen them by now,” Danhy says.
My gaze slides to Tage at this news. I’ve been following the conversation closely, adding it to my well of knowledge about dragonkind.
Tage considers this, reaching for his goblet and taking a long drink before asking, “How certain are you?”
“Absolutely.”
“There are no absolutes in this world.” For some reason his enigmatic gaze skitters to me as he says this, and my spine stiffens beneath the attention.
“I’ve been marking him and his movements for over a fortnight now,” Danhy replies evenly. “Just as you instructed. He is alone. I have no doubt. And in rough shape from his appearance.”
“And in your surveilling . . . has he seen you yet?”
Danhy hesitates and then nods, her wild umber mane rippling over her shoulders. “Yes.” She glances to Cyphus. “When I took Cyphus with me. We let him see us to test him, and he fled, clearly frightened.”
Tage leans back in his chair, his hands relaxed over the wooded arms, very much reminding me of a king taking measure of his domain. “Did I instruct you to reveal yourselves?”
Danhy ducks her gaze, suddenly inordinately interested with the food on her plate.
Cyphus speaks up. “It was my idea.”
Tage looks at him coolly. “It seems you have a lot of ideas lately. Maybe you should run these ideas by me before acting.”
It might be worded as a polite suggestion, but it is not.
A ruddy hue comes over Cyphus’s face, but he offers no excuse, merely holds Tage’s gaze with a defiant set to his square jaw.
After a moment, Tage returns his attention to Danhy, clearly dismissing Cyphus.
A small smile plays about my lips, enjoying any byplay in which Cyphus is censured.
Cyphus’s eyes harden as he catches sight of my almost smile and his mouth pulls tight, whitening at the corners.
My lips quickly flatten.
“You don’t think it’s a ruse,” Tage says, “that he could be one of the skelm planted to trick us into taking him in?” He glances around the expansive cavern, and it dawns on me what a coup they have in this place.
Well-concealed and situated and large enough for them to move around fully manifested in their dragon forms if they choose, it’s perfect.
Tage’s pride could grow by many members, and it would still have ample room for all.
“He’s young,” Danhy offers. “He hasn’t been very successful hunting independently.
He’s an onyx, but he hasn’t fully come into his own yet.
He’s weak. Starving. I don’t think any member of the skelm would go to such lengths to try to trap us.
” Her lips twist in scorn. “They’re such a gluttonous lot, not in any way about self-deprivation to reach a goal.
” She pauses a long beat, and then offers with surprising compassion, “We need to make a move. He needs our help. He won’t survive much longer alone.
” I suppose she has plenty of compassion when it’s for a dragon.
“You want to grow our numbers,” Cyphus reminds, evidently not cowed into silence. “He could be useful to our pride . . . eventually, when he reaches his full potential. Another onyx like us. Three onyxes would go a long way to increase our forces.”
Danhy seconds that with, “You two are the strongest of us. It would be an advantage to add a third to our ranks.”
Cyphus preens a bit at her recognition of his strength, grunting in acknowledgment where he sits eating, his thick jaw moving, reminding me a of a cow working its cud. He no doubt enjoys being pronounced one of the strongest of the pride.
Tage doesn’t react to the praise, sits stoically with Danhy’s words for several long moments.
“Shall we establish contact with him?” Cyphus asks, a touch of impatience in his voice. Clearly, he wants to take charge of the assignment but requires his alpha’s consent.
“The two of you go, approach him.” He nods at Danhy and Viggo. “Bring him some food but be careful. Don’t box yourselves in anywhere with him. Make certain you have a clear path of escape.”
“What about me?” Cyphus frowns, clearly disliking being excluded.
“You think he could be . . . bait for a trap?” Danhy frowns.
“I know better than to make any assumptions. Never underestimate the skelm. This is just a preliminary conversation. Get to know him. Find out where he comes from . . . if he would be a good fit for us. Do not bring him back with you. Not yet.”
“What about me?” Cyphus demands like a petulant child. “Why can I not go?”
Tage doesn’t even glance at Cyphus as he tears off a hunk of bread and sweeps it around the juices on his plate. “Another onyx might intimidate him.”
Cyphus’s lips compress as though fighting against a rebuttal.
Viggo and Danhy hurriedly finish eating and leave, eager to carry out their assignment and establish contact with this new dragon.
I finish eating and then start gathering the dishes, accepting that the task falls to me tonight without help from Viggo.
Tage’s voice cuts across the table. “Cyphus can handle the cleanup. You come with me.”
“Me? I’m to clean up?”
I almost smile at Cyphus’s look of outrage. His duties don’t usually fall to the kitchen—especially when they have me around.
“Yes,” Tage says evenly. “You.” He looks back at me. “Come.”
I frown at Tage’s clipped tone but follow him when he gets up from the table and heads down one of the many tunnels branching off from the cave’s central space.
I don’t know where we’re going but I know it’s not the tunnel that leads to his den.
No, this is a different passageway. I take tentative steps in the shadowy shaft, keeping an eye on the broad expanse of his back ahead of me, wary of where he’s leading me.
Perhaps a dungeon awaits me? He might have decided on a different place for me to spend my nights rather than with him in his den. Clearly, last night was awkward for him, too. Not just me.
It’s a short tunnel, narrowing and then opening wide to a pool of steaming water.
I gasp, doing my best not to look as delighted as I feel at the sight.
He stops at the edge and waves a hand at the gift before me. “A hot spring. I thought you might like to bathe.”
A bath? I can’t even recall the last time I had the extravagance of a bath.
“Oh. That would be . . . yes.” I nod, warmth suffusing me at the unexpected generosity, at his thoughtfulness. “Yes, that would be . . . nice. Thank you.”
He gives a curt nod, as though uncomfortable with my gratitude.
And in this exchange, it occurs to me that my odor must offend them.
I stink.
Last night takes on a whole new light. Embarrassment stings my cheeks. Maybe that’s why he left so quickly. After our brief kiss he couldn’t suffer me anymore.
I take a sniff at my clothes. They reek of smoke and sweat and the grinding work of these many days.
Does he think I’m someone with a distaste for bathing?
Do they think this of all humans? That we’re a filthy, unclean lot?
Oh, but no. He spent time with humans. I’m sure beautiful Bertine smelled divine.
As soon as the thought skitters through my mind, I regret it.
The woman is dead and doesn’t deserve petty thoughts.
Then it hits me with the force of a gale—I’ve been here for days, weeks . . . and now he thinks to extend this invitation?
“Nice of you to finally offer.” My smarting pride flings out before I can moderate the tone of my words.
His eyes harden to obsidian chips, any warmth that had once been there gone between us. I shift uneasily on the slippery rock, regretting the loss of that for whatever reason, even though it shouldn’t matter, even though I’m the one to make certain that warmth vanished.
He motions to my scruffy clothing with a rough motion of his hand.
“We can launder those. I’ll fetch a drying linen and some fresh clothes for you.
” He gestures to the calm waters of the spring.
I assume those fresh garments would belong to Danhy and I wonder how she will feel upon returning home to find me wearing her clothes.
I bite my lip, suppressing the thank-you rising automatically to my tongue, unwilling to express gratitude for anything.
I am trapped here because of him. I won’t thank him for granting me my basic needs.
I gaze from the water to him, my fingers playing with the edge of my sleeve, ready for him to leave so I can sink into the welcoming depths of the spring. “I can handle it from here on my own.”
With a stiff nod, he turns and departs back down the tunnel.
My hands go to the hem of my tunic and then freeze. “Wait,” I call out. He stops and faces me. “There aren’t any, uh . . . creatures in there? You know, some other thing from long ago that isn’t supposed to exist?” I wince. Creatures. I don’t know any other way to say it.
Something flickers over his face. “There isn’t anything in there that doesn’t belong.”
There isn’t anything in there that doesn’t belong. So no real assurances that the hot spring is completely safe and empty of creatures. Not exactly comforting.
Once he leaves, I stand at the edge, watching the steaming tendrils curl above the dark liquid surface before I move and peel off my clothes.
Reassuring myself he would not have invited me to enter the pool if it’s dangerous, I ease into the warm water, sighing at the delicious sensation.
I locate a bar of soap fragrant with some manner of herbs and petals in a dish beside the pool.