Page 9 of The Sun God’s Prize (Child of Scale and Fire #3)

I spend the next two days eating, sleeping and in meditation, in between bouts of light exercise to return my strength.

I want to push harder, but I know better, just like I’m aware that the short, wooden sword I’ve been allowed to swing in my practice is the best I’ll be permitted while on board.

They’ve already seen what I can do, at least, they think so.

It’s a challenge I accept to disguise my true abilities while pushing against the weariness that weighs down my muscles, a dance between weakness and caution that is a welcome distraction from what’s to come.

It’s clear I’m meant for some sort of contest of arms, so returning to my training isn’t just necessary to regain strength. It’s going to be life and death. When I broach the possibility of swimming, Captain Lhanin immediately shuts me down.

“She’ll escape the moment she’s in the water,” he snarls at Vunoshe.

“She’ll be tethered,” the slave master assures him.

“The crocodons,” the angry captain tries again. I don’t know what that means, but he’s reaching for excuses.

“Can’t keep up with this vessel,” Vunoshe brushes aside his protests.

It’s decided then that I’ll be allowed to swim. Now I’m wondering if it’s a good idea.

Except the short tether, a strap around my chest that links to my collar, ensures I don’t drown as much as preventing escape, and the rush of water against my body is the impact-free resistance I really needed to push myself without drawing attention.

I swim with grim determination, resting against my constraints when needed, and by the time I step onto the back of the ship again, trembling from effort, I’m not only clean once more, I’m satisfied with my progress.

This just might work.

As the sun sets on that second night, I curl up at Vunoshe’s feet, eyes on the shore.

We’ve slowed somewhat, the triangle sail no longer straining, wind failing us.

The masterre snaps open a large, folded fan, the frame made of some polished black substance inlaid with multi-hued decoration that glitters in the fading sun.

He fans himself and me in the humidity that settles around us, buzzing flies appearing when our forward momentum’s slacking allows them to reach us.

Movement on the far bank catches my eye, something massive sliding into the water, ridged and barely visible if not for its gliding grace.

I know I react to it in surprise, because Vunoshe flashes a grimace, the black liner he wears around his dark eyes bleeding into the fine lines at the corners, while his glistening skin glows with the same sweat as mine does.

“Crocodons,” he says in a playful tone. “Nasty things. Silent predators, admirable in their efficiency.” He turns himself, leaning past his chair back, and looking over the rail behind us. “It’s best you don’t swim when we’re moving so slowly, pet. Just in case.”

And all of my imagined escapes by water under my own power die immediately as a snout rises above the water, a pair of eyes watching us go by.

This excuse of the captain’s to keep me from swimming isn’t quite so unfounded as I believed.

Unblinking, crested in armored ridges, the peaks of its nostrils as wide as a war horse’s, I catch a flick of its tail and my breath at the same time.

It’s hard to judge at this distance, but the thing has to be at least fifteen feet long. “Are they all that big?”

Vunoshe observes it, then shrugs. “Some are bigger,” he says.

“They consume one another, I understand, the biggest controlling parts of the river, while the smaller fight over scraps and one another for food.” He chuckles.

“Crocodons are nothing if not practical. I adore them philosophically, if not up close and personally.”

Another crocodons slides from the bank, and this time I’m ready, watching.

It’s massive, on short, stubby legs that seem unfathomably unremarkable for the large, bulky creature they carry.

Low-slung to the ground, wide and burly, it would be impossible to fight from a low position.

And those giant jaws jut with curving teeth, the massive tail slipping silently under the water as it drifts toward us, watching as the other had while we sail past.

The armor alone makes it a formidable foe, and now I’m wondering what it would be like to fight one. Not with fear, but with curiosity and out of a sense of challenge.

My sense of self-preservation has returned to normal, at least. Confirming once again that I’m far too much my mother’s daughter, even now.

We retreat below when darkness comes, the biting flies far worse after nightfall, Vunoshe sealing off the windows and doors to the outside.

It’s hot and sticky in his quarters, and he’s unusually snappish with me.

I blame the heat, my own temper on a short leash as he clamps me tightly to the end of his bed and throws himself, naked and sweating, onto his bunk.

He’s snoring quickly regardless, though this is the first night I struggle to find rest myself.

It’s not just the humidity or discomfort of my position.

I stretch a little, flex fully from toes to fingertips, and am satisfied that I’m much closer to full strength than I could have hoped just a few short days ago.

Which means I need to shift my attention from the here and now and start planning my escape more seriously.

Please , the voice in my head is back, wavering and distant, but present. You must continue .

I don’t have to do so as a slave , I snap back.

She sighs deeply, mournfully. You’re so close now, Flame , she says. But so far, still. You must hurry. I’m near the end, and I don’t know how long I can last. Not with it spreading so quickly. Faster than ever .

She’s talking about Neem’s stolen magic. There’s too much to tie her to what I’ve been through already for her to mean anything else. We’re past the Overkingdom influence, then?

For now , she agrees. But I don’t know for how long, Flame. I’ve spent so much of my power holding what they did to her at bay. I’m no longer strong enough to keep its spread from the Sun Kingdom .

What they did to Neem. You’re a dragon , I whisper to her, afraid to name her, but knowing I’m right.

Of course , she replies, sounding startled. Did you not know all along?

I think I did , I tell her. But why, if I’m past the taint of what they did to Neem, do I still doubt?

There’s a ponderous moment. I don’t know how else to describe it. But I’m suddenly crushed under the weight of her silence, as though a massive creature has turned her entire focus to me. It’s terrifying and lights the fire inside me again, the one I thought snuffed out.

You still carry the disease , she says, voice vibrating through me.

And will until what needs to be done is complete .

She fades again as quickly as she rose. I feel her drifting from me and hear her whisper at last, as though she’s expended all the energy she has to reach me.

I feel somehow even more connected to her, knowing she’s as frustrated with her current state as I am with mine.

Gather your strength, let them bring you to me.

I’m waiting, Flame. It’s almost time . There’s a short pause before she says, Aurous .

She’s gone, then, and I feel her go, knowing that answering her won’t reach her.

I try anyway. I won’t be anyone’s pawn , I say. But I will hear you out .

As soon as I’m free.

If I must carry on, though, her advice is sound.

On this ship, I’m fed, cared for, and allowed the time and rest I need to recover.

And it appears that I’m also being taken where she needs me to go.

I’ve never been one to believe in fate, despite the kinspark, despite the things I’ve been told so recently about the truth of magic.

Of the Overkingdom and the death of the gold dragon who used to rule there, and now this new dragon, who speaks to me and lures me south.

So, I will carry on only if it suits me and if that ends in mutual satisfaction, so be it.

Even the vast magic long thought lost won’t force me to do what I choose otherwise.

At least, so I tell myself. I guess I’ll have to wait and see if the daughter of Jhanette has what it takes to stand against a dragon.

I don’t really like my chances.

I finally sleep, and when I wake, it’s to shouting from on deck. Vunoshe is sour as he dons his robe over his naked body, but when we emerge to the morning sun, his attitude instantly changes.

Another small man in a dark garment similar to his waves jauntily from the gangplank that’s been stretched between two ships.

Vunoshe hurries forward, embracing the other man and kissing him soundly.

The sailors look away as the two masterre s’ mutual hands move beneath each other’s robes in intimate caresses, soft moans of pleasure reminding me that it’s been some time since I felt a touch like that.

Neither Vunoshe nor his companion seems to care that they’re pleasuring one another out in the open, in full view of the crews of both ships.

In fact, if anything, they revel in it, those private, tugging movements mutual, low and between one another’s legs leading to matching groans that end in the masterre s shuddering as one, leaning into each other when climax takes them.

Vunoshe pulls away first, licking the slick moisture from his fingers as the other man does the same. “I’ve missed you, darling.”

“And you, my love.” His mate, then? He’s just as dainty, almost delicate, though he’s shaved his head, earlobes heavy with dangling gold, and wears a pointed beard on the tip of his chin.

“I bring you bounty for the arenas.” The newcomer gestures as two large men are brought on board, naked but for loincloths wound around their hips, chained at the wrist and ankle so they can only cup their hands in front of them, shuffling short strides.

Vunoshe claps his hands together in child-like delight.

“They’re beautiful , Hanso,” he says, rushing forward to stroke the pectorals of the first man, the burly giant flinching back from the slave masterre ’s touch.

I feel for him, for the painful redness of his skin where sunburn has bitten deep into his fair flesh, his pale eyes rising to meet mine for a moment before he looks down again.

His blond hair is bound at the nape of his neck, and though he’s thin for a fighter, it’s clear he’s been in many battles, scars and muscles both well developed.

The other man glares around him with a kind of casual arrogance that Vunoshe seems to appreciate, flashing the bulky warrior with a coy smile, his admiration slow and his touch lingering.

They’re both taller than I am, closer to the size of the drakonkin rogue, Kell, though neither has that gray skin tone or silver or amber eyes of my father’s people.

In fact, the second man’s is the same warmth as mine, as the sailors’, so perhaps he’s Sunnish as they are.

He certainly seems far less concerned with his lot in life, while the pale giant appears out of place.

“Perfection,” Vunoshe tells Hanso, hugging him close. “You’ll join us for the sale?”

“Alas,” the other man says with a headshake. “I am due in Nerveeth to select six concubines for the Sun God himself.” He says it with a casual tone, but Vunoshe is squealing immediately, hugging him again.

“How I wanted you to get to know my new pet,” he says with a moue of disappointment, gesturing me forward. I join them, Hanso admiring me with a long look up and down, but clearly unwilling to remain.

“She’s perfection,” the other masterre says. “Tell Romouth no less than two hundred.”

“I’ll double that,” Vunoshe says, then kisses Hanso one last time. “Go, then,” my masterre says with a sigh. “Bring glory and grace to our profession.”

“And you, my love.” They exchange one last lingering embrace before Hanso turns and returns to the other ship, snapping his fingers.

The gangplank retracts and we’re on our way again, Captain Lhanin, I note, scowling at the new additions.

He made no move to speak to anyone on the other vessel, either, so his disapproval is multi-layered, I suppose.

“More mouths to feed,” he grunts at Vunoshe. His complaints are ridiculous, since all of his cargo was sold on shore before I began my killing spree. “I’m not giving up my cabin.”

“You won’t have to,” the slave masterre says. “It’s not your cabin anymore.” Vunoshe gestures for the two large men to follow, hand already holding the slender chains that would be so easy to break, winding mind among theirs, and leading the three of us aft.

It occurs to me that I might not have to kill Vunoshe myself. Because if Captain Lhanin has his way, the masterre ’s already dead.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

***