Page 19 of Deadly Maiden (Dragons and Darkthings #1)

Wyntre

The thunder of the gheist pistol echoes in my head, making the trees shiver and blurring the sun where it shines down through swaying greenery.

I rotate the gun, staring at it where I hold it low near my leather belt. It needs a sheath to be easily grabbed in unexpected conflicts, such as just happened. Such enormous power is housed in this small device. I let my arm relax, let the gun dangle.

The power of Death rests in my hand, and all one needs is a source of gheist and enough bullets. As Rorsyd said, we need power to defend ourselves. In combination with necromancy this thing can kill anything .

Rorsyd!

Here I am dithering, and he’s hurt.

I dash to where he’s rising from his knees onto unsteady feet. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, while anger and disgust radiate from him. Those rigid lines on his face are new. But he lets me take his hand as he straightens and lumbers around to face where the blood hawk once lay.

The final stiffening of his spine restores him to his normal height. He’s two heads taller than me and twice as wide across the shoulders. Rorsyd’s a mountain’s worth of fae, even when in this form, yet he looks exhausted. This scares me.

“Where is it?” At last he looks to me, puzzled. His thumb smooths my hand. “You’re okay?”

Concern softens his gaze.

“I am okay. It’s dead. I shot it.” I waggle the pistol. “I killed it after you made it crash. You burned off a wing.” I explain this carefully, wondering if he’s centered himself yet, after that disastrous shift from fae to dragon and back again. “I need to ask if you are okay. Rorsyd?”

“I am.” He shakes his head and brings me with him as he goes to where the blood hawk died. The trees around us have dropped fractured limbs and flurries of leaves and twigs. “This looks like a battlefield, minus the dead. We need to leave.”

I should have thought of that. Though… “Unless someone was in contact with it just now, and they are close to here, how is there any hurry? They can’t have seen our new faces.”

“True. Come though. I’ll say more while we pack.”

Quickly, we gather the gear, the pendants, and saddle the horses.

“The king has ways to communicate news faster than normal. The Church of Artreos certainly has an arcane method, and I think he keeps the Sisters close and among his advisors. So it is possible we could be in trouble if we don’t move.”

“Smart king.” I cinch the girth strap another notch then swing into the saddle. “How do you know about this?”

“I’m older than the church. Sometimes that’s useful.”

I feel I should smack myself. I forget he is immortal. It’s sobering, brings my mood down a notch. “Handy,” I add, glibly.

“Yes.” He mounts the black gelding, and we set off down the road. His mouth is downturned slightly. If only we’d had time to do more hugging, more talking. My heart hurts when I look at him.

“May I ask again, are you really okay?”

“I am sorry, Wyntre. I failed us.”

I believe it’s the shifting that has him angry at himself, or afraid? It doesn’t take much thinking to see how that would bother him. Twenty years without being able to shift. It comes back, and then this happens.

“You didn’t fail us. You woke in time to see that thing. You burned it.”

“Not enough. None of that was enough. I’m the one who should be taking care of you, not the other way around.”

I let that roll around awhile before I answer. His ego is in play. I know nothing of dragonshifter egos. I only know him.

“How can I tell you how much you mean to me, already, after only these few days together?” There are tears in my eyes when I look to him. “Please. Even if you cannot shift, I love you.”

Even if you cannot shift . Inside, I wince at my words. Bad choice? Probably.

I nudge my mare to trot closer to him. When I stretch across and offer my hand, he smiles and briefly takes it.

“And I you,” he says.

“I cannot survive out here without you, Rorsyd. I don’t know that I would want to. We can do this, together. Soulmates, remember?”

This time, he leans over to bridge the gap and kiss me before messing up my hair.

We ride onward, my heart now soaring with hope, as it should be.

Then he casually turns and says, “Next time we stop, I’ll be checking out your swordfighting skills.”

Well now.

“The gun worked perfectly, though I can use a sword.” Landos was possibly not the best teacher.

“How fast can you load that gun? How many…what are they? Bullets? How many do you have?”

“Slowly. And not that many. Yet. How many am I needing to shoot?”

“I don’t know, but stabbing is quicker.”

I want to go home. Stabbing people, killing, this is not happiness.

“I want to be in a world where I do not need to kill anyone.”

“Then we need to leave Zardrake. Is this what you really want?”

I suck in my lower lip, exhale. “Maybe that is the answer?”

Leave my country and everything and everyone I ever knew? I’m already not supposed to enter a golem town.

“And if we do that, Wyntre, I’m still not sure the king will leave you alone.”

“Fuck.” The horses’ clopping punctuates my angry thoughts. “This is more complicated than algebra equations.”

Rorsyd leans away, stares. “What the fuck are those?”

“Oh my gods. You really don’t know?” He shakes his head at me. “It’s like… ummm you have ten apples, and a flock of birds comes down and eats four but leaves a half of every third apple, and then worms eat X number of holes, so how many children can you feed?” I shrug, grinning. “Like that.”

“You are definitely crazy.” His eyes are wide. “Taking away your soulmate certificate.”

Snorting and laughing, I double over the pommel, ducking to avoid a branch drooping with yellow blossoms. A second later, he’s chuckling.

He rips off a handful of blossoms and throws them high, showers me with them.

Finally, the day is looking up.

Life has presented me with a vital question.

Is algebra older than dragonshifters, too new for Rorsyd to know of it, or was it invented purely to torture me?