Page 10

Chapter nine

Sifa

I'm Clearly Losing My Mind

I ’m waiting for him. Again. After last night, you’d think he’d try to be on time.

I still can’t believe what he did. That male only wanted to talk to me. Well, he probably wanted more, but he wasn’t going to get it. Fhord attacked him for just sitting at my table. Broke his front teeth. Wouldn’t even let me give him my scarf. Stood there staring at me like it was my fault. Bastard .

But by the gods, that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I hate myself for even thinking it, but part of me was so turned on by what he’d done. Turned on by Fhord. The crooked grin he gave me when he straddled that chair. The rumble of his voice when he told that male to go away. The flex of his tattoos when his arm lashed out, all power.

I’ve spent years trying to smother that little bit of me. It can’t come out in Vanatia, ever. But it sparked to life when Fhord sat down, sending my stomach into cartwheels as chills rolled up and down my spine. I sat in a cold bathtub for a long time after I made it to my room.

I don’t know why I reacted like that. I’ve always despised males like him, who act like females belong to them. Too many use violence to control their wives and girlfriends. And Fhord is so arrogant and irritating.

But I can’t deny he’s also gorgeous, or that my body responds to him in a way it never has, even to the most attractive males. When his gaze caught mine, jealousy sparking from his emerald eyes, I felt it in my core. I wanted him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.

I need to get through this trip and get back home. Because I’m clearly losing my mind.

“Ready?” His voice is gruff, angry.

“That’s what you have to say?” I demand, turning to stare at him. “Am I ready? Not, ‘I’m sorry, Sifa. I screwed up’?” Even now, angry as I am, my heart jumps when I see him. Bastard .

He looks rested. Like attacking strangers helps him sleep. Maybe it does.

His eyes narrow as he spins away from me and strides toward the stables.

I stand there for a few seconds, stunned at his attitude. The apology he refuses to give. But I shouldn’t be surprised. I know he’s an asshole. I need to stop expecting anything else.

Sighing, I follow him to the horses, relieved when Hilde is happy to see me. Rubbing her neck, I reach into a bag and pull out a few slices of apple. And then I rest my head against her and breathe. “Today will be an adventure,” I assure her.

At least it’s gorgeous outside, I remind myself as we leave the town. We’re still in the lush part of Vanatia, the trees rich with leaves the hue of emeralds, sparkling in the morning sun. The path we’re following winds through the forest lazily, like a snake sunning itself on a summer day. Even the birds seem joyful, their song echoing around us as they warble their greetings to the morning.

We’ve traveled for hours in silence when a different sound floats toward us. Screams. But not just any screams. They’re not human, and they are primal. Terrified. Desperate. I have no idea what beast is suffering so much.

I’ve heard cries like this before.

The fear they unleash nearly petrifies me.

In that instant, I’m back in the caves, trapped in a land I never knew existed. They know I’m an elf—my body betraying me as my terror strips my ability to control it—and use pain and fear to subdue me. To try and rip answers from me. To bend me to their will.

I’m not the only one being tortured. Other beings are here too. I recognize Toffer because he landed in this world with me. I ache when his cries reach me, feel his agony with him. When they drag him back to his hole, I try to comfort him with my words. Never my touch, because prisoners all are kept far apart. Only our torturers touch us in that place.

The wails that tear out my heart are the ones that reach us from outside the dungeon. They’re not human or troll or elf or anything like us. A beast of some kind shrieks and howls in pain and horror I can’t imagine. I could never learn the source. Even my probing questions to my captors didn’t help. I just knew that my torment paled next to the torture those creatures suffered.

I shake my head, trying to bring my wandering thoughts back to the forest. Nobody will hurt me here, I remind myself. I’m suddenly grateful for Fhord’s presence, the protection I don’t want to need.

When I glance at him, a rock drops in my stomach. The color has drained from his face, and he’s watching me with an emotion I’ve never seen him wear before. Compassion, maybe? Concern? He must have noticed my response, recognized my terror.

Breathing in once, and then again, I work to control the shivers that started when I heard the beast. I haven’t shaken like this, unable to control it, since I escaped. No wonder Fhord reacted that way.

“I’m fine,” I whisper, afraid to speak too loudly. Whatever it is doesn’t sound close, but I don’t want to take any chance of drawing it toward us.

Fhord raises a finger to his lips, echoing my caution. And then he drops from his horse, gentle enough to not make a sound, and gestures at me to do the same. I’m so relieved to have a battle horse beneath me. Her instincts seem to kick in as she stands motionless, waiting for me to dismount and lead her away.

We draw Sigurd and Hilde farther into the woods, away from the wailing. I haven’t gotten the trembling under control—it seems to get worse with every shriek—but movement helps. Hiding will help more.

Fhord glances back occasionally, his eyes still shadowed in some emotion I don’t want. I don’t need his sympathy and can’t stand the idea of him feeling pity for me. I won’t let this male see me as weak or afraid, even though I’m both right now.

It only takes a few minutes to find cover. It feels so much longer. As we slowly sink down to our haunches, I focus again on my fractured response to this creature, whatever it is. I’m surprised to find a little relief. For all these years, I’ve wondered what made those sounds. Whether I was imagining them. Now I know they’re real. Maybe Fhord can answer questions that have haunted me—if he’ll finally start talking to me.

But I won’t need to ask Fhord. Within a few minutes, the screaming moves in our direction. It’s changing now, as the beast seems to give in to the demands of its torturer. Warbles erupt every few seconds, full of grief. Resigned. I can even hear the sharp inhales that follow its moans. As if it’s crying.

I’m surprised when I see it. I shouldn’t be. In this world, I’d never before heard a dragon do anything except growl or snarl. I knew they could make other sounds. The dragons in my world are expressive. They relay so much even without the mental bonds they share with their riders. These dragons look the same; I’ve always assumed they behave the same.

It’s shocking, though, to see a dragon so afraid. Even from our distance, I can see that it’s trembling more than me, and I’m shaking like a leaf. I can see the hesitation in its steps. The fear in its eyes. The dragon’s head hangs low, its gaze never straying from the male who walks in front of it. It seems defeated. Resigned. Hopeless.

My heart is breaking for the poor beast. Enormous as it is, perhaps seventy feet long, it acts small. Defenseless. I want nothing more than to protect it from the monster who inspires such fear in it.

Suddenly, I’m not afraid anymore. My hands are still, steady. I’ve lived for ten years terrified of these screams. Horrified by whatever beast they came from. By the madman who would cause such pain. Now I know what it was. I know that I don’t have to fear it.

My breathing and heart rate slow, growing more measured with the dragon’s approach. I’m aware of everything around me. The breeze that reaches me even in the midst of the bushes hiding us, a whisper across my skin; the hint of jasmine in the air, fresh and refreshing; the sun filtering through the leaves to surround us with a quilt of color.

I don’t intend to send my thoughts toward the beast, but when I realize they’re reaching out, I don’t pull them back. I can feel his anguish and grief. He needs comfort, strength, hope. Maybe I can offer some.

He’s confused at first, a hint of fear crossing his face. But in an instant, it’s replaced with curiosity and then something close to peace. His head stays still even as his gaze spins to search for me, piercing through the leaves and branches to capture mine. And then he slowly, intentionally, blinks at me. The only sign of thanks he dares to give. He felt my touch. He’s grateful.

The dragon continues to warble, but I can tell it’s for his captor’s benefit. He fears for us. We shouldn’t have seen his trauma. If he reveals our presence, we’ll be condemned to death.

Fifteen minutes after they pass, Fhord stands, his hand dropping down to help me get up. I take it, grateful for a brief truce between us. We won’t be friends, but maybe we don’t need to be enemies.

“Are you okay, Sifa?” His tone is gentle, soothing.

“I am,” I assure him, looking in the direction they left. “I’ve heard screams like that before but didn’t know they came from a dragon. I was scared of them when it was some nameless creature. It helps to know the source.”

“They’re not supposed to be here. Nobody outside the Nests is supposed to know about this part of their training.”

I spin to stare at him. “Training? This is part of dragon training?” I can feel a burn in the back of my throat as my heart rate again spins out of control. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not. I don’t like it, but it’s necessary.” He holds up a hand as I open my mouth to respond. “We can talk about this later if you want, but I’d rather get away from here. If they discover us, learn what you’ve seen, they’ll mark both of us for execution. Let’s keep going. When we get set up for the night, I’ll answer a few questions.”

I watch him for a moment, willing my body to calm down. I don’t know enough to be so angry. Yet. “Fine,” I say at last.

Fhord leads us away at a fast pace. He must be more worried than he wants to admit. We ride for at least an hour, Hilde struggling to keep up with the younger stallion, before he slows down. But we don’t stop yet.

Finally, hours after we started, I can’t go on any longer. “Fhord,” I yell out. He’s more than two dragon’s-lengths ahead of me, and Hilde needs a break.

Sigurd yanks to a halt, his rider spinning in his seat to look back. He watches for a few seconds as we approach and then dips his head. “Your mount needs to rest.”

“Ya think?” I don’t want my voice to hold as much disdain as it does, but I’m tired and hungry.

Fhord spins and points his chin at a nearby clearing. “We can stop there for lunch. There’s a stream to water the horses.”

He takes off again, our momentary proximity apparently too much for him to take. Shaking my head, I nudge Hilde to follow. She walks in their direction, in no bigger hurry than me. Smart horse.

Fhord can’t avoid me at the creek. He’s already removed Sigurd’s harness and watered him. I do the same with Hilde, then follow him to a part of the meadow hidden in shadows. We tie the horses near a generous supply of grass then find boulders for our table. He’s stuck with me while we eat.

“It’s not much, but we’ll have a better meal when we stop for the night,” he says as he hands me jerky and some dried fruit and nuts.

“Will we be at another inn tonight?” I’m looking forward to a hot bath and a warm bed.

“No. Tonight we pitch a tent.” Fhord’s not even looking in my direction, like he can’t bear the sight of me.

“A tent? As in one?” The gods cannot expect me to share a tent with this man.

“Yes, we carry only one tent.”

They do. The bastards .

“You can’t stand to be in the same room as me. How will you survive sharing a tent?”

Fhord turns his head slowly. His green eyes are as dark as the forest around us. “I’ll manage.”

I watch him for a moment. Fine. If this is what we need to do, we will. “I want to talk about what happened. Why that dragon was being tortured.”

“Not now.” Fhord’s response is clipped, almost angry.

“You told me we’d talk about it.”

“Tonight.” He stands and starts to stalk toward Sigurd. “Finish your meal. We leave in five minutes.”

The gods really must hate me, sticking me with this impossible man.

The afternoon passes quickly, with Fhord setting another fast pace. By the time we stop, Hilde is done. She hasn’t worked this hard in a long time. I’m proud of her, though. I can feel the battle horse’s resolve as she pushes herself to keep up with Sigurd.

Fhord works in silence to unpack the horses and erect the tent before gesturing at me to do something—I have no idea what—as he starts to build a fire.

“What?” I ask, confused and a little frustrated.

“Set up inside the tent,” he explains, his voice low and slow, like he’s talking to a two-year-old.

“Words, Fhord. Talk to me. I don’t read minds.”

He spins to stare at me, his eyes bright with … accusation. For a moment, I’m convinced he knows I can touch the thoughts and emotions of other beings. But then a mask drops over his face again. “You’re old enough to know what to do,” he explains.

I shake my head and crawl into the teeny tent, digging into the packs to lay out our bedding. We’ll be sleeping nearly side by side. The gods definitely hate me.

Within a few minutes I’m crawling back out to join Fhord by the fire. He hands me a yam and a knife, then points at the pot simmering in front of him. We work in silence to prepare a dinner that turns out to be surprisingly good and satisfying. After we clean up, Fhord turns to me, ready to talk about dragons.

“I shouldn’t tell you this.” Fhord glances at me for a moment, then turns his eyes toward Sigurd. “Only those who ride dragons may know how their society works. But you already know more than you should. The damage is done. And it may help you hold your tongue if you know more about what you saw today.”

“Because if I spoke about it, I’d be condemned to the penalty?”

“Yes.” Fhord’s silent for nearly a minute, staring out into the distance. “I don’t like it,” he says at last, his tone flat. “I wish there was another way. But there isn’t. Sometimes dragons don’t want to submit to the riders chosen for them. They rebel. They need to be punished. Controlled.”

“Dragons don’t choose their riders?” I’d suspected as much, but it still surprises me to have it confirmed.

“They don’t.” Fhord’s voice holds no emotion. “Dragons cannot be ridden by peasants. That privilege must be earned. Only those who have built a place in Vanatia, who have proven their worth, deserve to claim such a mount.”

“The wealthy? Even if their wealth is given, not earned?”

“Wealth, power, family, loyalty. Those are the factors that guide the Dróttning’s decisions.”

“What if the dragon doesn’t want the rider chosen for it?”

“That’s what you saw today. Dragons that rebel against the dictates of the Kastali are disciplined until they comply.”

“Discipline? That’s what you call it?”

Finally, Fhord looks at me. His nostrils flare as he bares his teeth. “ I don’t do anything. I didn’t choose this. I wish there were another way. There isn’t.”

For some frustrating reason, I feel bad for Fhord. He hates this as much as I do. My hand wants to reach out and touch him, calm his rage. I don’t understand the emotions this man inspires in me.

As I watch, his face softens, the anger dissipating. “That man hurt the dragon,” I point out. “Badly. I felt his pain. He was completely hopeless. Discipline would not be so cruel. That’s torture.”

“They are stubborn beasts who hold great power. It sometimes takes … some distress … to force them to comply. The trainer must control them. Pain often works best.”

“What did he do to cause such pain?” I’m not sure I want an answer. The question slips out before I can stop it.

“It is a punishment unique to dragons. You don’t know enough about the beasts to understand.”

He has no idea what I already know about dragons, but I can’t tell him. Nobody except Toffer—and probably Thor—knows I don’t belong here. That I know much more about dragons than I should.

We sit in silence a few more minutes, waiting. I don’t want to sleep so close to him and I assume he feels the same. Eventually, though, I face the fact that I have no choice. I need rest.

He follows me into the tent a few minutes after I crawl in and snuggle under the covers, laying down without a word. My back is turned to him, but I can’t ignore his presence. My senses focus on his breathing, steady but not yet sleeping. Having him so close is electric, setting my nerves on edge. My spine tingles, my brain sending signals to every part of me that he’s here. He’s close enough to touch. To hold. To caress.

To fuck.

Holy Helheim. I can’t stand this man. I don’t want him. At all. My rebellious body, though, doesn’t agree. It’s never wanted anyone as much as it wants him right now. Even without his touch, my core is hot, pulsing. If he weren’t two feet from me, my hand would be in my pants, releasing some of the tension. The need.

It takes a long, long time to go to sleep.