Chapter 7
For two days, silence had stretched between Carwyn and the dragon.
Together they’d sorted through the mess of his books, barely making a dent in it.
Some books had required flicking through, as they’d lacked titles.
Diaries in other languages made things difficult, and he’d brought them to her to ensure they weren’t the writings of her kind, but she’d shaken her head at all of them before placing them in a stack.
Why he had so many books, she didn’t know.
But she wanted to. Had he read them? Did he merely have them as trophies? Why did he collect such a large amount?
He’d yet to show her the rest of his lair; instead, he’d stated that she wasn’t allowed anywhere except for the book room, the kitchen, the healing room, and the one he’d given her to sleep.
He’d been very explicit that she wasn’t allowed within the belly of the mountain – the darkness she’d never seen him wander into. When she’d asked what was down there, she’d merely gotten a snap of fangs and a snarl.
When she’d finally asked why he wasn’t showing her around more, he’d said he didn’t care if she satisfied her curiosity with peeks at his hoard, but she wasn’t allowed to enter those alcoves to touch their contents, and he’d scent if she tried.
So she was limited to peering in awkwardly from the hallway.
Every statement he’d made over the past couple days was cold, surly, and often mingled with an edge of lethality.
He was a hostile being, and speaking with Carwyn or even looking upon her had him either agitated or angry.
Every second in his presence had shortened her patience towards his behaviour, often leaving her to bite her tongue.
Or she’d failed and had given him a snarky response back – sometimes even in a way that he hadn’t known he’d been insulted.
As a result, they’d conversed as little as possible.
However, he had given her a small alcove to sleep in, with a pile of bedding to soften the floor and offer her warmth.
He’d also given her a cloak when she hadn’t asked for one.
Even though it was too long for her height, it kept the chill away, and she appreciated his consideration.
Especially as it was of better quality than her own.
He’d supplied her with a bucket, which she was allowed to fill with water to bathe using magic, so he wasn’t restricting her witchcraft.
She cooked freely, often meals from which she’d give the liquid to the hexed dragoness while she’d take the solid foods within it, like the meat or stringy vegetables.
He’d even given her a scarf to wear to protect her corkscrew hair from the constant layering of dust, which she was deeply thankful for, as having to wash it frequently would have stripped away its natural oils.
All her needs were attended to. Other than asking for a sewing needle and thread to fix her glove, there was nothing she wanted for.
Carwyn was even fine with the minimal amount of conversation between them. Kind of.
He reminded her of Valerie – quiet, stewing alone with his thoughts. But at least Valerie could be playful when she wanted to. She was also more allowing of Carwyn to be herself, as she could be rather talkative at times.
Since she couldn’t touch people, Carwyn soaked in companionship through words. She listened, and she garnered affection the only way she could. She struggled to be on her own for prolonged periods of time, and she found it harder when someone nearby was going out of their way to ignore her.
She wanted to talk about the books she was discovering.
Boast about the food she made. Complain about the cold and dimness of his cave.
She wanted to talk, laugh, tease. Even after three days, I still don’t know his name.
He only called her ‘witch.’ Rarely with a sneer, at least, but that’s because he seldom spoke to her.
I want to go home.
She’d missed her family on her journey, but she’d had a destination in her heart, a goal. Right now, she had no distractions from her whirling thoughts and was lonelier than ever. It felt like the grey stone walls were closing in on her.
And the more books she dug through – finding only a handful of spellbooks, which turned out to be useless for her task – the more frustrated she got. What if there wasn’t an answer here? What if they were wasting time?
What if he trapped her here forever? Imprisoned her because she failed? His sister was getting healthier. Carwyn had succeeded in giving them more time. What if he then brought dark witches here?
She didn’t want to be anywhere near their magic.
If dark witches removed the hex, would the dragon siblings no longer believe they owed her a blood debt? And if that was the case, her bargaining power for freedom could slip through her fingers. That made her pulse race so fast she felt it in the pit of her soul.
She wanted out of here.
And so she’d walked to the entrance of his lair earlier to see if she could have escaped on her own when the time was right, only to freeze at the edge.
Frothing waves had crashed against sharp rocks below a deadly drop.
As far as the eye could see had been ocean, and when she’d looked up, the mountain wall had been flat and impossible to climb.
Even trying to step off the platform meant certain death, and she now understood why he felt no need to barricade it with dragoncraft.
If she wanted freedom, it could only be achieved if she jumped to her own death. She found that taunt to be cruel, not that she thought she’d ever try.
Unless she did it out of exasperation to escape his eye-roll-inducing temper. With how many times she’d done the action, she wondered if her eyes would fall from their sockets at some point.
The ocean and his closeness to it also explained why this cave was so damn cold and how she always managed to smell the hint of brine in the air.
Carwyn sniffled, only for a sneeze to burst from her.
She rubbed her runny nose and coughed. The mould and dust in this room were irritating her sinuses and itched her skin as she picked up another book to check its contents.
She discovered what it was, then placed it on a designated pile of others that were similar.
He planned to put them away properly, and she thought it might be so that he never had to face this issue in the future.
She lifted her gaze to the empty bookshelves and then around at the vacant area. He wasn’t there. He hadn’t been for quite some time.
Why? Who knew? He usually returned within an hour, but it’d been at least two, perhaps three, since she’d seen him.
I don’t even know what time of day it is.
She hadn’t seen or felt the sun in three days, as it’d been morning when she’d gone to the cave entrance. She only knew when night came by how tired she grew, and how heavy her eyelids were when she washed her hands and body of grime before crawling under the covers to lie on a hard, lumpy bed.
He hadn’t allowed her to make a potion that would stop her from getting sick from this task, but he had offered her one of his own. She was unsure if it was because he wanted to reduce her witchcraft usage or if, like with her injured wrist, it was because his was superior.
Regardless, she appreciated it.
The cloak, the bed, the food, the freedom from not being locked in some kind of cell... it all showed he was considerate, even if he hated what she was. In his heart, he wasn’t callous.
But he hadn’t been overly kind either.
I can’t believe he left me here on my own to do all the work again. What could he possibly be doing for hours?
Tired and requiring a break, and honestly just annoyed, Carwyn stood and brushed her hands together. The dragoness will need food too. She left, hoping the ill-mannered male dragon skulking somewhere didn’t get his tail in a knot over it, and headed for the cooking area.
If I find him lazing around, I might actually smack him. He’d promised not to leave it to her. If he’s looking at gems or his treasures, I’ll throw them at him. Right now, they needed haste.
Well, not truly. With Carwyn feeding the dragoness, they had time, but she wanted haste! She wanted out of here and away from his petulant tantrums and short temper. Away from the rock, dirt, and dust, so she could continue on with her journey.
I’m still so mad he stole me! She might not show it – her mother had taught her better – but Carwyn wanted to implode.
Had she the ability to defeat the dragon and temporarily incapacitate him, she might have tried.
It would’ve taught him a really good lesson in being kinder to make her want to stay without complaint.
Or it would’ve convinced him to let her go and find other witches to help, those better suited for the task – who he could eat once he was finished with them.
He didn’t need her anymore, really. He knew how to feed his sister properly now.
Stupid dragon. How hard is it to research how to care for a human? Lifting the head was obvious. Only a child would be so silly.
Her gaze roved around as she searched for him in every alcove in case she needed to scuttle away to avoid his ire. Thankfully, she didn’t pass him.
She reheated her most recent stew and sat at the table on a newly acquired chair to eat. Then, like every time she ate, she served up an additional bowl and carried it along with a chalice in her other hand.
Her feet drew up short when she came to the healing room.
Well, that explains where he’s been.
At first, fury heated her like a fiery cyclone, ready to wind up and destroy everything in its path. He was just lying there with her, and there was little need! If he wanted her to move, then he needed to assist Carwyn in ensuring she woke up. If he missed his sister, he had to help.
But as she approached to yell at him, more of him came into view. Maybe Carwyn was too sympathetic at heart, too gentle, because hers squeezed on his behalf.