Chapter 8 #2
The female yawned again, much louder and longer than before, then squinted her eyes. Her hand trembled as she reached out to continue their task, and Kier sighed. Will she truly remain here if I do?
He’d already demanded that she leave. Other than snatching her and walking her to her own alcove, he didn’t think he had the energy to argue with her if she continued to be disobedient.
“Fine. Let us sleep,” Kier stated, walking towards the exit.
She burst to her feet in a heartbeat. “Okay.”
That was too easy.
They left the alcove, and he immediately turned to go deeper within his home, towards an area that was out of bounds for her.
“Goodnight,” she said softly, causing him to misstep in surprise.
When he glanced back at her, she was facing him with her hands clasped. She bowed her head before shifting to retreat up the incline.
So he walked away until he was around a bend, then stopped. He waited for her feet to quit echoing within the stone hallways before he turned back around and headed for his collection of books once more.
Just as he was about to enter, his back stiffened when he heard her feet.
They didn’t come from far away, didn’t slowly patter back into loudness – they came from around her own bend, as if she’d paused as well.
It didn’t give him time to react quickly enough and use one of his camouflaging abilities.
She frowned when she saw him, and he muttered a curse.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her lips flattening in disapproval as she glanced beyond him.
“What are you doing?” he retorted to distract from being caught.
“I left my gloves behind.”
He darted his head into the alcove and spotted them on the ground in the middle of where she’d been sorting.
Kier snorted a huff. Blasted. She had a legitimate excuse, but he did not.
“Why do you carry those things on you constantly?” he asked, snapping his gaze to her.
“Habit,” she answered plainly, bypassing him to retrieve them.
“Is my home that cold?” He watched her intently as she passed him both times, ducking in and then out, never wary about nearing him. “I can obtain thicker, better ones.”
“No. It’s fine.” She held them close to her chest, and he noted the sewn line from her repairing them. “They’re very important to me. I’m still a little upset with you that you cut one.”
“I couldn’t heal you properly without doing so.”
He’d made sure to be careful around her due to how... fragile she seemed. He doubted a dragoness would’ve budged had he shoved one lightly the way he had done to her.
She lacked strength. Perhaps not emotionally – she seemed to be admirably resilient – but in form, she was like glass. But she’s not, is she? She’d killed three witches all on her own. With a sword, a bow and arrow, and her magic.
Sometimes Kier didn’t know what to make of her.
She was guileless, but she wasn’t docile and submissive.
Actually, now that he thought about it, she was wisely cautious and observant.
Her gaze held a strength and bravery that couldn’t be taught but was born from within, and he felt it whenever their stares caught.
Stubborn yet kind, innocent but proven bloodthirsty when endangered.
He almost wanted to grin. He rather liked that.
He hated meek things and disliked needlessly violent ones as well.
And perhaps his lips did curl slightly when she so pointedly said, “Goodnight, dragon. Please allow us both to rest,” without moving an inch while bravely holding his eyes.
Oh, she was quite aware he’d been sneaking back in and was testing him. She even cocked a brow, and he did the same.
He glanced back at his hoard of books, then at her still waiting. Her brow went higher, and he snorted out a defeated huff. He’d given away his trickery, and now that she was aware of it, he could tell she had every intention of intervening and remaining here with him should he try.
Fine. He would give in for tonight. He’d let her win.
He would sleep; he would finally rest.
It would do him well.
He turned and followed the decline of his mountain path.
Just as he turned the corner, he peeked to find her still standing there, poised and patient, and he growled softly.
No matter how far he descended, he didn’t hear her footsteps, as if she continued to stand there until he was so far it was doubtful he would’ve heard them anyway.
It was only when he was about to reach his sleeping area that he realised something.
She never answered me about her gloves.
He didn’t care enough to go back and find out.
Carwyn waited until the dragon left and then remained behind even longer just to make sure. The longer she stood there, the tighter her muscles wound and the faster her pulse raced in her veins.
She’d hidden around the corner before, surmising the dragon intended to be mischievous about his bedtime to be rid of her. She was glad she’d stayed and subtly confronted him about it.
He... mustn’t know what I intend to do.
Hopefully by the time he returned it would be morning, allowing enough time for the scent of her witchcraft to fade. Because she was going to violate many of his demands tonight, and it wouldn’t bode well for her should she be caught.
Especially if she were caught in the very act.
So Carwyn waited until she was sure – or, rather, hoped – he truly went to whatever bed he used for sleeping.
Then she ran, knowing the minutes were ticking by and her window of opportunity was starting to close. The gloves? She’d left them behind on purpose, but she didn’t need them. Sleep? She could deal with that later. Food? Well, she was a little hungry, but she had other priorities.
I cannot fail, she thought, her arms pumping as she sprinted. I cannot lose my only chance for freedom. The books? Fucking pointless. She could sense it down to her bones. I cannot allow him to bring other witches here.
Those who would take away her bargaining power.
No, Carwyn needed to take matters into her own hands.
He’ll be angry if he discovers what I do, but if I can offer the solution, hopefully he doesn’t engulf me in flames. Maybe she could pretend she found the answer in a spellbook, since it was obvious he couldn’t understand them.
Rolling up her sleeves hastily to wash her hands in the bucket in her room, she removed the worst of the dust caking her skin.
Then, just to be safe, she stuck her head out to ensure he wasn’t approaching before she snuck out.
She ran up the incline, speeding past alcoves she wasn’t allowed inside, until she burst through the entrance of the alcove with the sleeping dragoness.
Approaching the altar, Carwyn stared down at her. She looked healthier, less gaunt and drained of life. Colour had risen into her cheeks as a subtle pinkness, her breathing was stronger, and she appeared peaceful now.
Carwyn knew magic was at work – that it wasn’t merely food or water that sustained her. She only realised today that the dragon must be feeding it to her to stave off the deterioration and enhance what they were doing.
He’s rather powerful, Carwyn thought, raking her gaze down the dragoness’ fur-covered body.
Every day, I grow more curious as to who he is.
There was the icy chill in his stare of someone who has shed blood.
A lethality edged his voice when he uttered commands he expected to be followed, reaffirming that there would be repercussions if they weren’t.
He wasn’t careless. He allows me to walk freely because he believes he’s superior in strength and might. He’d made it known, in his own way, that there was no escape for her, unless by his claw.
And she usually abided by his warnings.
But not tonight.
“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do to you,” Carwyn uttered softly. “I implore you to forgive me, but I see no other way. I must think of myself, as no one else is going to.”
Then she rounded the altar until she was at the woman’s head and knelt upon the ground. She lifted her bare hands, reaching for the woman, then hesitated.
Her fingers curled. You cannot be afraid now, Carwyn. Think of leaving. Think of your freedom. She took a long, deep, calming breath. You can do this.
None of that erased her fear. Instead, it deepened until it clutched her belly and heart, causing her hands to tremble.
I’m scared. Scared of him and what he’d do to her if he discovered this. Scared of failing and being trapped forever. She was terrified of doing this because of how dangerous it was to attempt. But fear has never stopped me before.
Except it had – many times in her life. It’s why she’d left home and begun her journey in the first place.
But she wouldn’t let it win, not when her life was at stake.
Carwyn uncurled her fingers, checked the entryway to make sure it was clear, and brought her gaze back to the dragoness’ transfixing cascade of straight black hair. Steeling herself, she darted her hands up and touched her fingertips to the sides of the unconscious woman’s head.
A gasp tore out of her when a wave of foreign emotions flooded her body before she imbued her hands with rare and forbidden witchcraft. Other than the magic threading them together, the last thing she felt was her forehead knocking against the stone altar.
Her hearing fled her just as her sight was swallowed by blackness. Different images began to take hold as a weightless sensation made her feel as though she were soaring.