Chapter 11
Staring up at a set of ruby-red eyes with slitted pupils, Carwyn gasped through squeezing lungs. She fought, scratching her nails up black, iridescent scales as she pulled, trying to gain even a modicum of room to take a breath.
Clawed fingers clasped tighter and scaled palms pushed down harder, refusing to relent, refusing to give up. The eyes of her reaper were full of fire, full of hate, as the furious being snarled down at her.
Can’t breathe, her mind whispered as her sight grew murky.
Fear clutched her heart and belly as she was strangled. A scale-covered body pressed down on her, while a long, thick tail lashed along the ground between her legs. Wings flapped, quivering with fury as a snout puffed up in cruel mercilessness.
She was going to die if she didn’t do something.
Blood trickled over her torn shoulder, and the claw strike burned.
Then the dragon reared back with an open maw, and a horrifying sucking sound came from within the crimson depths. Like the ocean drawing back against the rocks, readying to crash violently again.
She was about to be incinerated if she didn’t do something.
Carwyn shot up just as her mind screamed, jarring her awake at the pinnacle moment. Covered in a layer of sweat, she sucked in air with panicked gasps, trying to work out where she was.
Rock walls surrounded her, a little grey, partly sandy in some spots, with streaks of red. She drifted her gaze across them, then to the lumpy bedding beneath her, and her shoulders lost their tension, even if her chest didn’t cease sawing in and out.
Drawing up her knees, she dropped her face into her hands.
It’s okay. It’s okay, she thought. You saved yourself. You got away from her. A shiver ran through her at the memory.
She cupped her throat, discovering the wound had finally healed, so she’d no longer need to hide the bruising.
“Gosh, I think I might have nightmares about that for the rest of my life,” she whispered into her hands.
He frightens me a little now because of it.
The dragon and his sister... they looked so similar. His sister had a larger crown of spikes in comparison to him, but their eyes were nearly identical and their scales were almost the same, with his being slightly larger, thicker, and spikier.
It was easy to mistake the two if she let her mind run rampant.
I’m no closer to the memory of what happened to her than I was before.
The dragoness wouldn’t let her in, and Carwyn had to skip her way through the woman’s consciousness chaotically.
I should’ve practiced more. If I had, I might not have to keep doing it.
She dragged her hands down her face. If he figures it out, he might repeat what his sister did to me.
Except Carwyn might not be so successful in evading it next time. She wouldn’t be able to simply will herself to freedom.
She shuddered at the possible outcomes of her next attempt, then pushed the blanket off her and rolled out of bed. “He hasn’t come to wake me, so it mustn’t be late.”
He no doubt would come and throw another, probably bigger, hissy fit that she’d slept in again.
Just as she was kneeling and about to get up, she paused, then frowned at what sat next to her poor excuse of a bed.
A bowl of water, which sat atop an unknown article of what she assumed was clothing.
Pretty clothing, if the intricate and elegant lace along the neckline was any indication.
The fabric was yellow, and when she moved the shallow wooden bowl out of the way, she picked up the garment to find it was thick.
The quality was good, the dress layered and the sleeves long. It would be warm.
She clutched it in her hands as she cast her gaze to the entryway, half expecting him to be lurking there. He wasn’t, as if he didn’t care to witness her finding it.
Is he giving this to me? Why?
The cloak was warm, but it wasn’t nice. She actually thought it might’ve belonged to a man, considering it was too long and bulky.
She put down the garment that may have belonged to a noblewoman and grabbed the shallow bowl instead.
She drank from the water, thankful to have something to quench her thirst. Then she used her chamber pot, wiped herself down with a clean cloth and her bathing water, and ignored the dress to don her own clothing, refusing to touch it any further.
Carwyn left her mostly empty alcove and went up the incline to start a meal. When she arrived, the pot she’d emptied and cleaned the previous night was full. Next to it was a book of recipes, opened to a page that looked remarkably like the contents of the pot.
He cooked? She didn’t know what she was more surprised about: that he’d done so or that he knew how to.
Her brows drew together so deeply she thought she’d permanently wrinkle her forehead with concern.
She dared to smell it, then obtained a spoon to taste it. It wasn’t great – it had too little salt and too many herbs – but it was adequate. But she didn’t dare consume another bite in case Sir Grouchy Tail decided to get all snarly over it.
She left to go find him, surmising where he would be.
As she expected, he was in the room with books, sorting through them. Barely anything had been done in her absence.
Once more, she frowned. I’m still tired, but not as though I’ve only slept an hour or two. If it hadn’t been for the nightmare, she might have even continued to sleep on.
“You’re awake,” he greeted without looking at her, moving a book to a designated stack next to him.
“I saw you made food. Is that what I’m to feed her?” she asked, staring at the backs of his slightly flared wings and noting a tinge of red in them.
“No. I’ve already done it.”
“What do you mean?”
He finally looked over his shoulder, and his calm expression narrowed into a glare. It faded when he lifted his gaze slightly, and she realised he’d been looking at her attire before landing on her face.
“It is well past noon,” he said, shifting back to his task. “I felt there was no need to wait on you. I’ll take over caring for her. She is my sibling after all.”
Carwyn stamped her foot and put her hands on her hips. “But your focus is better used in here.”
They’d discussed this! Well, argued mostly.
“You have already done much to aid us. She is healthy. Even if this takes me longer, she will wait.” Then he sighed as he added, “She sleeps peacefully while we work.”
“You don’t care?” she asked, tilting her head.
“It’s not that I don’t care – there’s just no point. If you require more rest, take it.”
Carwyn opened her mouth to argue, but closed it swiftly. She’d love more rest. She needed it after the witchcraft she’d expended.
She didn’t want him to start calling her lazy with that mean sneer of his and rub it in her face. So she hiked up her dress and entered the room to begin her next pile.
“Stop,” he commanded without turning. “You’ll no longer help me in here.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re to no longer subject yourself to the dust and exhaustion.”
If Carwyn continued to frown like this, she was sure it would become permanent. “Why?”
“It doesn’t bother me as much,” he stated plainly. “This is also my fault and therefore I must bear the brunt of it. I’m also tired of hearing you sneezing and coughing as though you’re on the verge of death.”
“Then what am I to do?” Carwyn whined, throwing her arms up.
He pointed a claw next to the entryway. “Sit.”
She peeked next to her, and her lips tightened.
He brought a seat in here for me? A chaise had been placed against the wall, the cushions of it a deep red with a filigree design sewn into them in a similar colour.
A fur had been thrown over the wooden backrest of it, as if he intended for her to snuggle into it for comfort and warmth.
She slitted her eyes suspiciously at the dragon. What’s he up to? She mulled it over. He did react embarrassed yesterday when I feigned having my courses.
Was it pity? She wanted to gag at such a notion.
She wasn’t made of glass, and just because a woman was going through her monthly bleeding didn’t mean she was sickly.
She’d only been irritable because she’d been tired, her magic had been drained, and she’d been a little overwhelmed about almost having been strangled to death.
Her shoulder wound had also ached horribly.
She’d made up some big lie as to why – because she absolutely wasn’t bleeding between her thighs – and she’d been frightened every second she was near him that he’d discover it all.
“I want to help,” she pushed.
She took a single step forward.
“If you don’t sit down, you will learn how quickly I can grow fucking enraged,” he snarled, turning his head to the side to look upon her through his right eye.
Her back stiffened under his harsh tone, his glare, and how intimidating it suddenly made him.
“I have been tolerant of your disobedience, and I’ve decided I no longer wish to be. ”
He swore at me! How ill-mannered! How dare he swear at a woman!
Her mind roared as she stomped like a bear over to the chaise.
She completely overlooked the fact that she had a filthy mouth when she was upset.
Instead, she folded her arms and plopped her backside onto the cushions with an immature harrumph.
Then she melted. Dear heavens, this might be the softest thing I’ve sat on in months. She bounced on it and was immediately tempted to lie down and go the hell to sleep.
Under the fur was even a pillow, and it called to her. Sung her very name like a whisper through her mind.
No! She had to resist the temptation.
“There,” she answered darkly. “Now what?” She folded her arms again. What does he expect me to do? Sit here and watch him until I expire of boredom? “Have you at least found another spellbook?”
“Yes. It is by your feet.”
“Oh.” She leaned down and grabbed it from the ground. As she suspected, it was useless.