“My marriage is wrought with secrets. I carry with me the truth of how the empire of dragons fell – along with a child whose descendent will finish what I began. Though I wish to return to the mountains there is nothing there now, nothing but ash and snow…and the dark secret that I shall carry with me until my death.”
Excerpt from Queen Litania’s diary, first queen of the newly established empire of Danomir.
Chapter 26
The caravan had grown quiet in the night, with all fires extinguished, leaving wreaths of smoke swirling above the tents and wagons. The smell of ash hung in the air, tinged with the leftover smell of roasted meats and fragrant rich soups and flagons of wine that had been opened. It had been a festive dinner, with laughter and songs; yet it was something that left Wren feeling hollow and distant, yearning for those dinners back at her village. Her favourite being the feast that happened once the merchant had departed with the red powder they’d made, full of laughter and dancing and music, with spiced wine and sweet cakes.
It had been too much so after she ate Wren cleared off, retreating to her tent, trying to fall asleep. She managed scarcely a few hours before she woke once more, unable to drift off once more so she rose and wandered outside.
Her feet carried her right to where Lorca lay curled up in dragon form, snoring softly, his wings draped over himself. The ground beneath him was scorched black where he’d warmed it with fire. He nearly blended in seamlessly with it with his ink black scales. As she neared one eye cracked open, then the other as he lifted his head and looked at her, dark amber eyes watching her.
Is everything alright? He asked after a moment.
She felt her anger flare, her cheeks reddening. With a deep breath she schooled her features, forced calm into her voice and exhaled slowly. “I don’t know, is it? You’ve ignored me all day after training. Luckily, Sorcha proved a very good sparring partner and even helped me with some magic.”
His nostrils flared. You should not touch elf magic.
“Well, hardly a thing to mention after the fact, given you chose to ignore me after you nearly kissed me. That is the problem, isn’t it? That you nearly kissed me.”
His gaze narrowed faintly. It is complicated.
She arched a brow. “Simplify it. Did you want to kiss me?”
Yes.
That single word thumped in her mind and chest. Yes, he wanted to kiss her, desired her enough for it. She swallowed hard, shifting her weight on her feet.
“I wouldn’t have stopped you but that’s not the problem, is it? You want to but can’t because of what reason?”
Our deal. I do not wish for any misunderstanding, he explained. You are beautiful, passionate and your magic is thrilling. Yet it is not wise for us to enter into any bond of that kind. I apologise for my distance. I felt ashamed and angry at myself for acting in such a way.
She deflated. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear but it was a fair explanation, one that stung more than she thought it would. So, she nodded, forcing herself to accept it. The apology was made and for the matter at hand, the issue between them was resolved, albeit unsatisfyingly.
“I can’t sleep – mind if I sleep out here too? The night is warm and clear,” she said.
He inclined his head. Wren walked back to her tent, quietly rolling up her bed roll, blanket and small pillow. With it in her arms she headed back to Lorca, set up so that she, too, lay on the charred earth which still lingered with warmth. She curled up beneath the blanket and closed her eyes. Lorca shifted and when she cracked an eye open, she watched him lift one of his wings and drape it over, like a kind of makeshift tent. He curled his neck to her and rest his head on the ground, eyes closed.
She fell asleep to the sound of his long, deep breaths and the warmth he gave.
The caravan was a hive of activity the following morning. Tents were taken down in rapid time, with horses saddled up and others secured to their wagons. Boxes were carried along in chains, then hoisted up into their respective wagons. People shouted, made orders, rushed about with baskets in a chaos that was dizzyingly impressive. Quick meals of bread rolls and little bags of dried fruit were distributed out amongst the fray, with people devouring their lots between tasks in a blinding fashion.
When the wagons were being hauled into line and those on horse back took their positions, either at the front or rear, there came that energy again. Ready to be off, to continue onwards to their next destination. It was to be two days if the weather held through rough terrain, along roads that, according to Inakara, ought to be smooth enough to traverse, for them to reach their final stop. Two days and, if all went well, she’d be in the City of Slaves by the end of that second day. If the weather soured or there were issues to be mended with the road it might be three. That was the slowest they could be, anyway; otherwise the caravan risked being late and have no time to set up for the festival they’d been summoned for. That would mean a great deal of money lost, which the caravan needed for some repairs on three of the wagons and to buy some younger horses. A couple, apparently, were becoming too old to pull wagons or carry anyone on their backs.
Wren idly rubbed the neck of her mare as she sat there, waiting for Inakara to appear and signal the caravan onwards. She shifted on her saddle, looked about, then saw Lorca approach, astride his own horse. He had still been in dragon form when she woke, so he’d shifted back recently and wore a clean tunic and pants. A sword was strapped to his back. He met her gaze, searching for a moment, his face guarded. It was hard to read, that strange look in his eye, like there was a wall between them.
“How are you feeling?” She asked.
They were so close to the city now, so chances for him to rest in dragon form were dwindling rapidly. Sorcha said Inakara was working on something that might ease the pain associated with holding his human form for days. It wasn’t a full solution but it’d buy them so time, figure out the next stage. Wren felt awful because it was from their deal that he was away from the mountains, that he was in so much danger because he can’t hold his dragon form. If anything happened to him it’d be her fault.
He settled his horse beside her. “I’m well. Inakara spoke to me this morning. She might have a way to settle my magic and will work with Sorcha on the matter.”
“There might be a way to settle your change?”
He didn’t seem entirely convinced on the matter, if it was indeed possible. For so long he had stayed by himself on that mountain, guarding a city of bones and ruins. No wonder he wasn’t quick to jump at the hope.
“Perhaps but the focus for the moment should be readying your magic, now you have come to accept it,” he said, the last with a wry grin, quiet and his eyes glinting with amusement.
She looked down at her hands and lifted one up, summoning small flames to her hand. “This is about all I can do confidently. The rest is all…”
“Terrifying?”
She shook her head. “Yes but no. It scares me but more frustrating. Now I face something that is prickly and does not yield as easily as things have come to me before. Climbing, for instance, was as natural to me as breathing. I took to the cliffs and I was suited there very well, trained well and found the mountains easy to read. It felt like I knew it, as though it were part of me. Now I have a magic that is restless and growing and I feel out of balance with it.”
He reached across and waved his hand over hers, drawing the flames onto his skin, then he drew back. “You will learn and I will teach you.”
“Not Sorcha?” She teased. “You didn’t like how she offered.”
“Elvish magic, whilst of nature, is not dragon magic. It’s…I just do not like it,” he finally said, with great effort. “Besides, it shall be whom teaches you magic, no one else.”
She arched a brow. “I feel as though I should possess a say in the matter.”
His eyes flashed. “You wish for her as your teacher?”
Fire flickered within her, warmth tickling her chest. “No.”
“Good. We’re bound by an oath, so it is natural we train together,” he replied, as if that were the reason the whole time, reasonable and clear.
She snorted. “You don’t have to convince me. We’re allies in this – after all, you help me with this and I owe you to a task you, I might mention, are yet to name. Do you have an idea what you want or still choosing?”
For a moment he seemed to toy with his answer, though Wren had the sneaking feeling that he knew what he wanted. He had known since they swore to each other over the fire, only back then he hadn’t either believed she’d follow through or he was waiting for something – a particular moment only defined in his own mind, perhaps? She’d considered it carefully, what he might want – a lover seemed too basic; a sacrifice too dramatic; someone to aid him in his own personal mission, though what that entailed given all his people were gone and anyone he might’ve known long dead. Hells, even the dragons had flown far away.
“Do you seek the dragons?” She blurted out.
He stiffened, silent for a moment. “No.”
“The Dragonairs?”
“Any Dragonair I might know would be dust and bone by now,” he murmured. “As for my request you will know it in time and it is nothing, I believe you would refuse.”
“I won’t bed you,” she replied quickly. “If that’s what you want.”
That fiery gaze of his darkened, considering her. “Oh?”
She looked away, cheeks burning. “We don’t know each other that well and as you said, it’s complicated. We’re partners. It wouldn’t be wise.”
“Whilst we’re on your mission. I believe my request would come after,” he reminded her, quietly smiling.
A lump lodged in her throat, forcing her to swallow. Words, for a moment, evaded her; then, she looked at him, steeling herself. She aimed for a dismissive air.
“I rather doubt that for all this effort that is what you ask – hardly a fair trade for me, if all I get is that,” she said coolly.
“More could be arranged.”
She snorted. “Now I know you’re teasing me. That’s alright then, keep your secrets for the moment. I’ll figure them out soon enough.”
When she looked away, she swore she heard him again, muttering beneath his breath.
“I’m rather sure you will, Avara.”
She resisted the urge to snap her gaze back to him. Avara? Why the hell had he called her that?
Who was Avara?
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