Page 52

I shuddered and let exhaustion resettle.

A wintry wind rustled through the grass.

Billowy clouds snagged on the distant mountains covered with snow, pristine glaciers between the jagged gray granite peaks.

A flock of blackbirds swirled upward at our approach and circled away—so like the mage falcons but without their hateful cries.

Against my back, Kion’s chest rose and fell with his breathing. His arms held me securely, and I thought of my mother. How frightened she must have been when she ran. And my father, finding her, offering her refuge.

I said what I should have said hours ago. “I’m sorry about your father and mother. Your brother. I’m sorry Halla Taja hurt you with those words.”

“What hurt was watching your expression change when you could do nothing.”

I shifted my weight, and Kion tightened his hold.

“A little longer,” he said, turning the horse down a road toward a distant village. “Gheim Vale is ahead. They tell the story of a wizard who fought against monsters here in Aram Dun. He won by turning the creatures into mountains. They still sleep beneath blankets of snow.”

I studied the vista and said, “What a lovely place for monsters.”

The valley glinted with silvered lakes, reflecting the fading daylight.

Round signal towers crowned high hills and glowed with the mellow rose of sun-warmed stone.

Arched stonework bridges crossed the streams. A few crumbling ruins came into view, houses built of timber and thatch.

Thin-branched alpine trees clustered along the foothills, framing meadows where the tufted grass was brown and bent.

Wild horned goats leapt and raced up the hillsides.

Red deer disappeared into the trees and shrubbery.

“The dragons hide their eyres in caves near here,” Kion said.

“Dark places where the eggs wait to hatch and the fledglings are nurtured. For generations, the tenants in Gheim Vale have waited for the dragons to trust them again, ask for help in guarding the young ones. It is a generational honor they’ll willingly defend. ”

I stared at the distant vista. The empty sky. “You said the dragons were talking again.”

“Yes. To the dragon lords. It’s a slow process in regaining trust.”

“The skeletons in the tree?” I asked.

“If an enemy dares an attack, his shield, his flag, and his bones will decorate that tree.”

I shuddered. Curled my fingers in the warm fleece of the cloak. Deep in the folds, I breathed Kion’s scent, savoring each breath I pulled in, holding that part of him deep in my lungs.

In Gheim Vale, gray smoke rose from blackened chimneys.

We passed wooden animal pens and fenced gardens.

Chickens pecked in the road, then fluttered, dashing from beneath the horse’s hooves.

A boy darted from a barn and raced toward the nearest house.

The houses were sturdy, built of stone, with thick, rolled-thatch roofs weighted with long poles and flat stones.

“What protection do they have against blue rain?” I asked .

“The villagers hide in cellars beneath stone floors,” he said. “The animals, too. A thin layer of slate lies beneath the thatch on the roof. Added protection, and when damaged, it’s easy to repair.”

“Has the blue rain hit often?”

“Not in decades. The mountains offer some protection.”

Men in common clothing—shirts and pants, leather aprons, heavy boots—filed out of the buildings to stand by the road, heads dipping in honor of the Draakon.

Women joined the men, clutching loaves of bread or wrapped cheeses.

Kion thanked each one for the offerings, murmured words of gratitude and reassurance in keeping the needed food for their families.

So different from Tarian, who would have casually accepted their gifts as his privilege, without a thought for their hardship.

The horse plodded on, following a worn track that steepened and turned like the zigzag roads in Shiala.

A narrow bridge crossed a deep chasm, while at the top of the plateau, buildings had turned a yellowy pink in the last rays of sunlight.

Weathered masonry attested to the age of the compound.

Thick, crenelated curtain walls followed the curve of the cliff as if they were part of the foundational stone, and I understood why this fortress was impregnable, with the sheer drop.

Turning, I studied the narrow valley below, measuring the distance we’d traveled. Tracing the stretches of green and brown, the metallic shine of a river…and the monstrous mountains still sleeping beneath blankets of snow .

Overhead, clouds raced across the restive sky; the wind had sharpened. Ahead, black pennants edged the stone bridge leading to the fortress; the pennants snapped viciously against spear-like iron posts, and fire sputtered from logs shoved into short iron cages.

The horse’s hooves clattered as we rode through the guarded portcullis. Men hurried into the courtyard, ready to take the horse as Kion dismounted. Then he pulled me down, supporting my weight when my legs wobbled.

As we crossed the inner bailey, I craned my neck, trying not to miss anything.

Signs of constant building and reinforcement were everywhere.

Scaffolding and blocks of stone revealed how workmen planned to repair the outer wall.

Finished sections joined gaps where wooden poles blocked the open space.

Kion said the compound was centuries old but constantly maintained.

The castle sat apart from the other buildings.

We entered through heavy wooden doors; the scent of tallow and a lingering meal assailed me, along with a welcomed warmth.

Kion held my hand. We still wore the formal clothes but looked bedraggled after all the traveling, walking like people who’d been away too long and had forgotten the way.

The blue skirt twitched against my feet as we wandered down halls and along arched arcades, where the view of the distant mountains continued to stun me with its grandeur.

Finally, we entered a tower chamber illuminated by mage torches bright with the ambiance of flames.

The light glittered, dancing first across the silver hilt of Kion’s sword, then strands of his hair, and…

finally…across the floo r paved with mahogany-colored stone.

A fire burned low in the stone fireplace.

Color came from woven rugs while the chairs were wood and leather.

A thick, fur-lined blanket enveloped the bed where pillows in crisp white linen waited.

In the flickering light, glinting bronze and snatches of ruby caught my attention, half hidden in the shadows: book bindings.

Stacks of books covered tables and filled the niches carved into the walls.

Beyond, a wide stone terrace waited with no parapet to guard against the edge.

“For the dragons,” Kion said as he shrugged the scabbard from his back and set the sword aside.

He removed the fitted formal jacket, then loosened his shirt laces as he walked back toward the fire.

A circular bathing tub was close to the heat, steam rising from the water with an invitation that had my heart racing.

Kion continued to strip away his clothes as if he was alone in the chamber. First the shirt. Then he kicked off his boots, loosened the pants and let them fall.

“Don’t be shy,” he said as he approached the tub. “The water’s fresh and there’s room enough for two.”

My throat tightened; my pulse danced. He tested the water with his hand, stepped in, disturbing the drifting steam. I stared at the moisture beading on his skin, glistening…

Somehow, I managed to say, “The last time we bathed together, Kion, you complained about the deep conversation.”

“I’m relaxing sore muscles after hours on a horse holding you upright. Watch if you’d rather. ”

“Ah…you want appreciation. What man doesn’t want a woman to notice him?”

Kion ignored me, moving with grace, settling down into the water, and…yes, I noticed him. My hands grew unsteady. I traced a table edge with pretended nonchalance, unsure of his motives. What response did he expect? A challenge? Or cooperation?

Did bathing together mean something significant? Or was it a convenience? Something this man never thought twice about doing.

Our relationship had always been complicated. He’d been my prisoner, and I’d been his. We’d battled ever since, neither of us winning…although his penances for my sins kept adding up.

He had rescued me more than once, whether it was from mage falcons or foul men in a narrow slot canyon, or from my own foolishness, getting stuck in a tree having a heart-to-heart with Sarnorinth.

He was rescuing me again. Perhaps he thought it was easier than facing a high mage adversary…but that could be my own misconception when my emotions remained in turmoil.

Folding my arms across my midriff where the brocade bodice rubbed, I said, “I never met a man who liked to bathe as much as you do.”

“Join me.” He settled with his back turned, dipped down until the water drenched his hair, the strands streaming as he straightened. When he shook his head, drops splattered on the stone floor. “You smell like the horse. ”

“So charming, Draakon.” But the tub was large enough for two, even with his big body taking up room, and the lure of warm water was too great to resist. Besides, I did smell like the horse, and my clothes were travel stained and uncomfortable.

Surely, he had some spare clothes hidden here that were suitable if I did as he asked. And if not, I’d wrap myself in a sheet while I washed the clothes I had and let them dry by the fire.

Moments later, I stepped naked into the bath and sank into luxury.

Kion shifted his position, sloshing the water as he made room for me to lean against his back. I felt his deep breath before he spoke.

“I said I didn’t forgive you when I didn’t mean it.”