Page 45 of The Sun God’s Prize (Child of Scale and Fire #3)

Aurous finds a small chest on the far side of her mother’s snout, a stash of clothing the dragon prepared for her long ago.

The lid sparks as she lifts it, the magic that protects it absorbed into her glow.

I’d feared that anything left behind after what had to have been so long in wait would be rotted and unwearable.

But with the dragon’s power to safeguard the fabrics, she’s quickly dressed in a long, navy cloak over an ankle-length, dark blue dress belted at the waist with a heavy length of leather, much more northern-designed half boots on her feet.

There’s an extra cloak in dark red that I help myself to, and boots for Sheelan, too, though they’re big for her. Aurous touches them, and the leather forms to the princess’s feet, a perfect fit in a moment.

The dragon pauses at last, despite what she told us, to touch the snout of her mother, whispering something I don’t hear.

When she joins us at the tunnel out to the surface, she’s smiling but tears trickle down her cheeks.

There’s a grinding sound, and when I turn back, the way into the cave no longer exists, her mother entombed there, protected.

I stop long enough to hug her, Sheelan following my embrace with one of her own, while Aurous accepts our sympathy in silence.

We descend in the darkness, the dragon’s glow still faint, but more than enough to augment the moonlight, the journey down to each switchback reminding me that I’m grateful for all the conditioning I’ve been through.

But when Sheelan cries out and stops at the second turn, clutching at her thigh, it’s obvious she’s at her limit.

“I’m sorry,” she says, frustration in her voice. “I’m not strong like you.”

“You’re fine,” I say, turning so she can climb on my back again.

“You are strong,” Aurous assures her. “But your strength lies elsewhere than in the body. And such talents as Remi’s won’t be required of you, dear Sheelan.”

“Nice way of saying I’m a weakling with a big brain,” the Sun God’s daughter mutters in my ear.

“At least she called you smart,” I say back, amused. “I’m apparently only good for my sword arm and as an occasional pack mule.”

Sheelan snorts. “You’re far more useful than that.” Her suggestive comment makes me laugh.

“And so are you,” I say. “Stop flirting with me. We’re not out of the depths yet.”

She giggles, resting her cheek on my hair. “I think I’m in love with you.” It’s clearly only meant for me. “Is it just the magic?”

“Maybe,” I tell her as we reach another turn, Aurous ahead of us by several steps. “I like to think otherwise.” And pause. “My love.” Never did I, the daughter of war, think I would be telling so many how I feel about them, nor that love would find me and make me its willing slave.

Sheelan sighs, but it’s a happy sound. “So do I.”

We’re on the ground and halfway back to the boat by the time the sun rises, Aurous’s glow disappearing in the morning light.

She pauses to look into the brilliance when it emerges, smiling wide and arms outspread.

It’s a gorgeous morning, the bitter wind that chilled us already retreated, humidity starting to build again.

Whatever influence the cliff has on the weather, it must have been fed by the dragon’s magic.

“Good morning, morning,” Aurous says. “How divine.” When she turns again and follows us, she keeps glancing at the sun as it climbs. “No wonder your people think a God lives in it, Sheelan.”

I’ve set the Sunnish princess on her feet again, letting her walk for a time, her cramping no longer plaguing her and those magic boots of hers making her blisters no longer an issue. But she doesn’t comment on Aurous’s words, looking down as we go, lost in thought, I suppose.

Instead, it’s the growling of her stomach matching mine that breaks the silence.

We’d been lucky enough to find a stream that supplied us with water in both directions, but despite being used to fasting before a battle, even my body is now demanding food.

Poor Sheelan, unused to such deprivation, fades even more than she had been on our climb down.

“Poor darlings,” Aurous says, eyes wide.

She touches my hand, Sheelan’s, and warmth fills me, swelling inside me.

I’m no longer hungry, and from her smile, neither is my kinspark.

“We must find you real food,” the dragon says.

“The magic will sustain you for a time, but your bodies need fuel that I cannot provide.”

“We’re almost to the river,” Sheelan says, pointing at the glittering line ahead, the lush green bordering it in the twilight’s fading glow. “We can catch some fish, harvest some watercress. That will do us until we are able to find supplies.”

It’s long after dark when we reach the boat and the dock, though we don’t camp there, keeping back from the edge and awaiting morning.

I spread the cloak I now carry instead of wearing, the humidity’s warmth making it uncomfortable to have over me, laying it out like a bed by the stream.

Sheelan joins me when I sit, lying down, the dragon settling on my other side.

“Do you need to sleep?” Sheelan yawns, a massive act, her small face drawn and weary. “I’m used up.”

“I don’t think so,” Aurous says, meeting my gaze. “Do you?”

“Eventually,” I admit, as much as it irritates me.

And yawn, too. “I should.” But dare I close my eyes?

We’re this far back from the river to avoid the crocodons who favor its banks, but there could be other creatures out here that put us at risk.

Not to mention Theille’s soldiers, who are surely still hunting for us.

The river seems quiet, and yet, I know better than to assume anything.

“I will watch over you,” Aurous says with a soft touch to my hand. “Sleep, Remi, Sheelan. Rest.”

She must use magic on me, or influence me at the very least, because I don’t remember lying down, blinking awake again with my arms around Sheelan and the light of dawn once again turning to a new day.

The hunger cramping my stomach wakes me, the Sunnish woman groaning as her own growls so loudly I snort.

“Food,” she says, sitting up and stretching. “Good second morning, Aurous.”

She’s watching us, still seated beside me, smiling and nodding. “Good morning. I found these.” She gestures at her lap, where a cluster of small, round things lie, dirty but intact. “I believe they’re edible?”

“ Tattes ,” Sheelan nods. “How did you find them?” She’s brushing the soil from one, rubbing it with one finger, before taking a crunchy bite. Its brown skin is thin, the inside a pale cream, juicy but smelling of earth.

“Magic,” Aurous says simply. “I sought something edible for you, sustenance that will provide you with what you need. These were nearby and easy to unearth.”

I bite into one myself and grimace. “Delicious,” I say with some sarcasm, because it’s truly bland, but I’ve eaten worse on a battlefield, stealing bites between charges of hard tack and boiled meat as chewy as old leather. “Thank you.”

“I’ll fish while we sail,” Sheelan says. “We’ll have to eat it raw, but…” she shrugs.

The cold but nourishing food Aurous provided sits heavy in my stomach, the dock and our boat waiting for us when I part the tall grasses with my staff and lead the way to the bobbing vessel.

Aurous seems delighted with the water, dangling her fingers in it as Sheelan unfurls the sail, though I want to caution her about the dangers lurking beneath.

But she seems to realize, staring over the side into the ripples she’s made, eyes narrowing, smile tightening, and when she whispers something, there’s a sudden flurry just past us, thrashing that rocks us on anxious waves as a large, dark shape retreats in a hurry.

“Silly thing,” she laughs in a low, sultry voice. “Challenge a dragon, will you?”

I exchange a grin with Sheelan, whose shining eyes are wide, Aurous still chuckling to herself while the wind catches us, the current finally in our favor.

The return trip is much faster thanks to that detail, our small boat fleet, with the help of the flow of the water, and now I’m concerned about what lies ahead.

“We should make landfall before we reach the mouth of the Sun River,” I say.

But Sheelan disagrees, shaking her head. “We’ll be there at dark,” she tells me. “With luck, we’ll skim through the harbor and be around them and heading back upriver before anyone knows we’re even here.” She sounds hopeful, but I’m not counting on things going our way.

That’s simply not how my life has unfolded lately, and I’ll take nothing for granted.

She’s proven correct, though, the last light gone when we exit the narrow river’s tributary and emerge into the large harbor, the shining city aglow, oddly welcoming, peaceful, and unthreatening despite what would await us there.

While my shoulder blades come together and the space between them prickles with concern, we drift past large vessels bearing the banner of the Sun God, no one seeming to pay any attention to our small boat while we make our way through the many ships and smaller craft like ours on our way to the opening to the main river that spills into the harbor.

I know that this river is the one that carried me most of the way south, and that if we follow it in reverse, we’ll end up in the Crescent Sea.

But this small boat will not make that journey easy or fast, and though we’d be hard-pressed to man one of the speedy vessels the slaver captain Lhanin used to command—and that seem to dominate the harbor—we’re not going to make very good time in this tiny boat we’ve stolen.

“We need a better means of travel,” I say, thinking of horses, wishing, at least. I haven’t seen many since coming south, though I know they are here. Most people seem to favor the tall-shouldered, yellow-coated cattle, no doubt acclimatized to the humidity better than horses.