Page 3 of The Ballad of the Last Dragon

Chapter Three

T he sun is a hint on the horizon, and I’ve been up for hours. There was no chance for sleep once I agreed to accompany Aeron and his group. Cadoc, Neith, and Jaromir are all blades for hire. They’re on his payroll for this venture. And now, so am I.

The hours following our agreement have afforded me time to wonder. His quest seems a far-fetched notion, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to travel from tavern to tavern with both coin and protection. This is how I can make a name for myself. If I can make a name for him, too, all the better.

Do I really think he’s found the fabled hoard of the last dragon?

Doesn’t matter what I think. What I can convince others of… that’s what matters.

Swiftly, I pack up my meager belongings. I’ve changed out of my performance clothes, tossing my stockings, short pants, and vest into my pack. I wear sturdy breeches, a light-weight tunic, and my brown linen vest. It’s too warm for my travel cloak, so I fold it up and pack it away before I sling my bag across my chest.

It’s lighter than I thought.

Leaving my hair loose, I carefully place my cap. There are other ways to hide my ears, Brigitta once showed me how to plait the front section of my hair to create a barrier around them, but I prefer my cap. I might not risk ruining my finer clothes, but donning my hat feels like a statement.

I’m off on a quest.

A knock at the door announces Kingsley. He frowns as he steps into my room, hunching to avoid hitting his head against the sloped ceilings. He and Brigitta gave me the small dwelling abutting their barn when I first started working for him and he found out I was sneaking back into the tavern to sleep.

With my bag packed, all evidence of my living here has vanished.

He keeps the door open, a medium-sized leather satchel hanging from his massive hands. “You’re off then.”

My lungs are tight, so I nod. It isn’t forever. I’ll be back before winter.

“Well, here.” He holds the satchel out to me. Hesitantly, I take it from his grasp. Inside is enough salted jerky, apples, and carrots to feed me for a week. There’s even a pouch full of my favorite mushrooms, witch’s butter and king bolete. Brigitta must have foraged and raided their larder to stock me so fully.

I find his face, but his features have started to blur behind my unshed tears.

“And, uh, this.” He hands me a small, wrapped parcel. I peel back the cloth, and the familiar scent of black currant hits my nose. Kingsley is the only person I know who adds black currant and mulberries to his mixture of beech ashes and goat fat to make divine smelling soap.

I try to thank him, but the words get stuck somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Instead, I throw myself into his arms.

He pats my head and clears his throat. “I just thought, you might want the simple comfort on the road.”

He always thinks of my comfort. I used to wonder after his intentions, but I realized he would do it for anyone.

Nodding, I step away and rub my eyes. “I’ll be back before Winter Solstice.”

Kingsley smiles, and damn if it isn’t the most bittersweet thing I’ve ever seen. “Take care, Syl.” He turns to leave—he must open the tavern without me—but hesitates. “You know, it’s okay if you don’t come back. Here, I mean. So long as you’re safe.”

The tears I’ve only just mastered fill my vision once more. “Of course I’m coming back. We haven’t finished our conversation about themed events to draw in more customers.”

Kingsley laughs, but this time it’s a quiet sound contained to his chest. “We’re not hosting competitions.”

“Not yet.”

He shakes his head and leaves.

I pack the food and soap, careful to keep them separate, and adjust my cap once more.

Time to get an early start on the first day of the rest of my life.

I’m almost surprised to see Aeron’s crew waiting for me. I round the side of the Rusty Nail to find them and their horses as they ready for travel.

Aeron is resplendent with the dawn illuminating his fiery mane. Hands on his hips with his spotless armor gleaming in the sun’s rise.

Neith picks her nails with her dagger, casually leaning against the side of the hitching post. Examining her in the daylight affords me a better look. Her eyes and hair are dark, that scar along the side of her face on full display with how she shaves the side of her head. Her full lips and the delicate shape of her nose indicate how comely she’d be all done up like the noble ladies I used to see passing through Birchfield. She’s still striking—a dangerous sort of beauty I could write ballads about.

Cadoc murmurs and strokes his horse. When he catches me staring, he pauses and gives me a knowing smile. “I like to tell her of my dreams each morning.” Dimples crease his dark skin. With his large eyes, sharp cheekbones, and strong jaw, he possesses a handsomeness I’m sure makes anyone caught in his attention blush.

“You talk to your horse?”

“She’s a good listener.”

Fair enough.

A loud thud nearby jolts me out of my skin. Jaromir drops another satchel from his saddlebags onto the dirt, pointedly ignoring me.

Well, that simply won’t do.

“I hope you don’t have anything valuable in there,” I call out to his retreating form. He stiffens at the sound of my voice but says nothing.

“He’s just salty this morn,” Neith says, pushing off the wall to come stand by me. “Dinnae pay him any mind.”

Warmth floods me at the unexpected comment. At least she likes me.

“He’ll be right as rain as soon as we get underway.” Aeron claps me on the back, and I flinch. If he damages my lute, I’ll make sure the only song written in his name is the Ballad of Lost Bullocks.

Jaromir drops another satchel unceremoniously at our feet. A metallic clang hints at pots and pans in that bag. “She shouldn’t be coming.”

Right. He doesn’t want me along. What a surprise. Though what I’ve done to offend him is lost on me. Has he spotted my ears? Is he one of those humans? I can’t decide if I should call him out on it or simply needle him. Perhaps both.

“Your reaction to disappointment is to throw things around?” I ask. “What an evolved response.” This is the second time I’ve addressed him, and I’m sure he’ll ignore me again.

Instead, he exhales a harsh breath. “I’ve been informed you’ll be riding with me. I’m the faster rider should we encounter any danger.” He doesn’t say it like he’s boasting but relaying a mundane fact. He glares at Aeron. “I won’t kill my horse so you can bring someone to feed your ego.”

Indignation spikes through my chest, hot and quick. “My artistic integrity comes first. I’m here to complete a job, not offer false flattery.” It’s bad enough he insulted me during my song, but how dare he openly dismiss my work?

Jaromir continues as if I haven’t spoken. “If I’m carrying the extra weight, I’m not taking these supplies. You’ll go without, or you’ll find a way to manage them.”

Aeron nods to the others, and they quickly divide the supplies between their horses. Once everything is set, Aeron turns to me. “Ready?”

My gaze finds Jaromir. He’s standing beside his horse, scowling off into the distance. He turns as if he feels my eyes on him, and the crease between his brow only deepens. If he takes issue with me, I shouldn’t be his ward. As much as I loathe to have this conversation, it needs to be done.

“If it vexes you so greatly to have me along, now’s the time to air your grievances. I won’t worry for my life and wellbeing, not at the hands of my supposed allies.”

“You should worry for your life and wellbeing. That you don’t proves you shouldn’t come with us.” He continues unburdening his horse, indicating just how much unwanted weight he believes I add to the journey. “You needn’t fear my actions, only my ability to keep you alive.”

I study him intently. His words ring of truth, and yet, I can’t let this go until I’m sure. “Would you let a blade by you, allow my death, and claim it was an accident?” With a steady hand, I pull the cap from my head and tuck my hair behind my ear. It’s a statement, and a challenge.

Jaromir turns to meet my stare, and his expression doesn’t change. Not even a flit of surprise. “No.” He mutters something under his breath. “Satisfied with your questioning?”

I glance around. Aeron studies my pointed ear with an expression of interest, Cadoc gives me a grin, and Neith has already moved on from this exchange.

No one cares about my ears, and this fact is enough to stoke the excitement in my belly once more. I give Jaromir my best stage smile before plopping my cap back atop my head. “Absolutely.”

Aeron gives me a nod and ruffles my hat. I fix it quickly and step up to the hulking tower of disapproval. I’m close enough to see Jaromir has dark eyes, almost black. Behind his beard, his mouth is a tight line.

I hope he gets a jaw ache from clenching.

“You’ll ride in front so you don’t slip off when we encounter steep terrain. Give me your lute.”

My hand flies to the neck of my instrument. Over my dead body. “I’ve seen the way you handle supplies. Forgive me if I’m disinclined to trust you with my livelihood.” I spent years scraping enough coins together to afford one. I’m not letting him toss it away like rubbish. “Perhaps if I need a rock smashed, or expert level sulking, I’ll consult you.”

Cadoc laughs and smothers it with a cough.

“Are you done?” Jaromir asks, arching his brow.

“Nearly. If I need tips on how to throw an adult-sized tantrum, I’ll defer to your judgment. If I need advice on how to make a poor first impression, I’ll rely on your expertise. If I wish to master the art of stomping and grunting to make my feelings known, I’ll look to you.” I lift my chin in triumph. Also, because it makes it easier to meet his gaze. “Now I’m done.”

He rubs his forehead as if this conversation is giving him a headache. “I’ll damage the lute if I ride behind you while it’s strapped to your back.”

Oh. That makes sense. Sometimes I might benefit from listening before unleashing my mouth.

Alas, nobody’s perfect.

“Fine.” I hand off my most prized possession. To his credit, he positions it on his back, the leather strap tight across his broad chest. It blends in with his hardened leather armor. I haven’t seen many folks dressed like this in these parts. There’s something pleasing about the way it fits his form like a glove. I don’t need to see what’s underneath to know he’s built like a warrior. When my thorough stare finally finds his face again, he’s narrowed his dark eyes at me, and a bit of color seems to have flared high on his cheeks as if he knows what I’m thinking.

Evidently, he doesn’t appreciate being ogled. That’s fine. A man who doesn’t smile holds no interest of mine.

Without warning, he lifts me up, and I let out a shrill shriek. I mean… a battle cry of outrage. Granted, I can’t reach the height of his mount on my own, but he could have asked. Once he swings in behind me, I scoot forward as much as possible, so his thighs aren’t against my backside.

Aeron waves at us. “Are we off?”

Jaromir kicks off without answering, and I’m flung back against his firm chest.

He was right, my lute would have been crushed by the impact.

I sigh and turn my thoughts to more pleasant things. Like how I’m going to write the most epic ballad of pursuing a dragon.

I might even have an adventure of my own along the way.