Page 43 of Silverbow (The Godsung Saga #1)

She stopped rising to Aiden’s goads and banter, even as he tucked flowers in her braid and sent up winkling little sparks in the evenings, making the dragon bugs flash and dance for her.

Enya had never seen a dragon bug with its brilliant little light, but she couldn’t bring herself to find any wonder in it.

I left him behind.

She mostly ignored Colm’s careful prodding.

Sometimes he rode at her side and talked of gods and stars and places she’d never heard of, trying to keep her tethered to this place, but she asked no questions.

Most days slid by without her saying anything at all.

It was much as it had been in her first days on the road, but unlike those first days, she left her bow unstrung and rode along in resigned silence, cursing the gods who cursed her.

I didn’t ask for a gift.

Oryn hovered over her like a brooding, surly gargoyle, but he said almost as little as Bade, almost as little as she.

Most nights, she wrapped herself in her cloak and feigned sleep before Colm could force dinner on her.

Still, the demi-elf would brush a finger across her brow and let a dream ward settle.

She didn’t object. She didn’t want to be left alone with her dreams.

One morning, they topped a rise that revealed a dark patch of land on the eastern horizon. Enya squinted at it.

Colm, noticing her interest, heeled Lanta forward to ride at her side. “That’s Eastwood.”

The other demi-elves were silent as she watched that dark smudge in the distance. When the clouds parted and sent rays of sun scattering around the shadow, she caught the flash off something that glittered, but it was gone again when the clouds shifted.

“Is there something out there?” She asked. Her voice cracked. It was the first time she’d spoken all day.

Colm noted the direction of her gaze and sighed. “A tomb, of sorts.”

“For who?”

“Some might say all of Eastwood, but there are no bones beneath that dome.”

Enya’s brow furrowed. Then how is it a tomb?

Colm’s voice took on the patient, lecturing tone she’d become accustomed to, seeming to read the question she was unwilling to ask.

“That’s where Elred made his last stand.

There are very few things that can kill a full grown dragon.

A bolt through the heart or the throat, if you can penetrate the dragon’s scales.

And other dragons of course, with flame and claw and fang.

“Eastwood had no dragons, and by the time the call for aid reached the Vale, it was already too late. When Itham Ryland landed on the field to face Elred, the king drained the last of his gifts, throwing up a great stone dome, entrapping dragon, rider, and himself. When Feugis fired, the dome became an inferno. Dragon, rider, and king all perished. All that’s left is a dome of dragonglass. ”

“That’s horrible,” Enya muttered.

“War always is.”

The day was still young when the dark clouds pressing in started to send rain down in fat droplets.

Enya watched a quiet argument ripple through the men.

Bade was insisting they make the next village in as few words as one could make an argument, but Oryn seemed to be staunchly in favor of pitching the tents they carried behind their saddlebags.

A broad grin split Aiden’s face as he said loudly enough for Enya to hear, “My vote is for the Goat.”

Colm nodded. “Mine too.”

Oryn’s face looked as thunderous as the clouds overhead, but he heeled Kiawa onward. Enya didn’t much care any more about rain or sun or clouds, she only vaguely hoped the rain would be enough to stop her choking on the dust when they set out again.

As it began to fall in earnest, they set out at a canter, hooves drowning out the low rumbles of thunder overhead.

Each stride still sent a jolt through her partially healed ribs, but she braced against it and stood in her stirrups.

Arawelo surged, racing ahead of Cle and Lanta.

Beneath her shirt, the heavy signet ring bounced against her chest in time with the mare’s strides, but Enya hardly felt it.

When she closed her eyes, she was back outside Westforks, racing Pips and Farrah on the sandy stretch of beach.

It wasn’t rain that pelted her face, but sand from where Liam ran ahead.

For a few moments, she could pretend she was home.

She could pretend she hadn’t lost everything.

The thundering hooves beside her made her open her eyes again, and it was not her father’s bay, but Oryn’s war horse galloping along at her side, surging for the lead.

Arawelo laid her ears flat and pushed her nose out ahead, straining to win as they galloped on.

The pair ran neck and neck until Oryn reined in, the stallion protesting the forfeit.

Enya let the rain pelt her face in a bitter reminder of what loss felt like.

When she finally drew up, she saw the tile roofs rising ahead in the gray.

They were soaked to the skin by the time they stomped through the back door of the Bloated Goat.

Streaks of brown dye ran down Enya’s shirt, but mixed with the dust of the road that coated the rest of her, it made little difference.

She had been the last through the door, fussing over Arawelo, and much to her chagrin, was forced to take the usual chair between Oryn and Colm.

A pretty doe eyed barmaid with blonde hair piled high on her head had already arrived at the table.

“Afternoon, my lords.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as they slid to Enya. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you around these parts. We were starting to think you’d forgotten us.”

Aiden gave Enya a wink and leaned forward on his elbows. “How could we ever forget you, Renna?” He grinned.

Enya started when she realized the sparkle in the girl’s eye was directed squarely at Bade.

She supposed if one could get past the permanent scowl, he was good looking.

He had never made her heart stutter the way Oryn sometimes did in the beginning, even if she hated that.

The way the girl was looking at the hard-eyed demi-elf made Enya feel she should be somewhere else and she suddenly understood Bade’s insistence they make for the inn.

It was fleeting, but she thought she’d seen a flicker of a smile from the man.

“Ale or wine, my lady?” Renna asked, swiveling her gaze to Enya.

“Wine.”

Renna bobbed her head and flitted back to the bar where a raven haired beauty stood with arms crossed under a generous bosom. Enya’s eyebrows rose, following her gaze to Oryn. Her gargoyle had suddenly found something about the wall behind Aiden’s head to be of great interest. Enya huffed.

“The Goat has the best barmaids on the Misthol Road, isn’t that right, Adar? Very attentive,” Aiden said with a wink.

A muscle in Oryn’s jaw ticked as he turned his icy glare on Aiden, but the fire wielder seemed immune to the chill.

Renna returned to dispense drink and she slid Enya’s wine cup toward her with a shy smile.

She must have decided she was no threat to her, though the one standing behind the bar drummed her fingers impatiently.

“It’s a good thing you came in early. We’re nearly full up, my lords, with the rain. I’m afraid someone will have to take a double.” She held her tray to her chest like a shield, glancing from Enya to Oryn to Colm, trying to place with which she belonged.

“Three singles and a double then,” Colm smiled. “And lunch and baths, if you please Renna.”

“Of course, my lords, my lady.” She spun on her heel and strode away with a last smile at Bade .

“I don’t suppose the two of you intend to share,” Enya muttered into her cup.

“I seem to recall someone jumping out the window at the last inn,” Oryn said softly.

She didn’t need the reminder. Her ribs were still bruised.

“Any of us will share with you, Ansel,” Colm said lightly.

Bade snorted. He would not be sharing with anyone but Renna, that was clear, but Aiden looked on the point of volunteering. Enya was saved from answering by the arrival of the raven haired girl. She set down a tray laden with piping hot bowls of stew.

“My lords, my lady,” she said, doling out mismatched silver and crusts of bread. “Good of you to join us again. I hope your travels this spring have been well.” Her words were clearly directed at Oryn, but her pretty blue eyes lingered on Enya.

“Fine, thank you,” Colm said when the silence stretched a heartbeat too long. Enya didn’t need elf ears to hear the touch of stiffness in it. She thought Colm might also be holding back a grin at whatever was transpiring around the table.

“You’re looking well, Rosella. Isn’t she Adar?

” Aiden said, batting his lashes dramatically.

Enya turned her face down to study her stew.

She wasn’t in the mood for Aiden’s prodding, but she could positively feel Oryn bristling next to her like a cat that had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

“Oh, do excuse our manners. Rosella, meet Ansel.”

“Pleasure, Lady Ansel,” Rosella smiled with all the sickly sweetness in the world.

Enya raised her face with an entirely manufactured pleasantness. “It certainly is.”

If Oryn bloody Brydove would hold her captive, she was going to enjoy what parts of it she could.

Loudly, deliberately, she slid her chair an inch closer to his, the legs screeching on the wood floor in a declaration that echoed throughout the common room.

Rosella shot him a reproachful look and sniffed before stalking away.

Oryn turned his gaze on her with a look that another time, might have made Enya slide her chair back toward Colm. Instead, she batted her lashes at him. “I do need watching after all. ”

Oryn