Page 77 of To Touch A Silent Fury

I swallowed and hobbled forwards, holding my precious burden close as I ducked under his arm and into the room. It was simple enough: no thrones or suits of glittering armour. The only displays of wealth were a thick golden tapestry woven with a red wing—the inverse of the Sightlands’flag—that hung from the far wall and the handful of plush cushions nestled around the low table.

And there, with no fanfare or ceremony, was the Dragon Prince.

Langnathin wasn’t looking at me when I walked in. His eyes were on the floor as he stood up from one of the cushions to receive us. He dusted something I could not see off his trouser leg, and straightened.

The glimpse of him in the forest wasn’t enough to measure all the changes over the last span, and so I studied him now, marking them like it was a Knowledge test. His mouth looked more severe, curving downwards just like his shoulders. His eyes were as tired as the Euphons’ but still as blood-red. His complexion was somehow paler than before, the passing Domin making him as pallid as most of Amune’s tribesmen. Despite it all, though, his cleanliness gave him away. With his shining dark hair and a carefully shaven face, he was still every inch the prince.

I had thought of this moment for years. Remembered every word he had spoken to me and how he had looked at me as the men melted on the ground before Chaethor. I thought I would have to hold myself back from the sheer anger of it all.

But instead, as his eyes met mine, I only felt nervous. I couldn’t let him hurt the bundle in my arms.

The Dragon Prince blinked rapidly as he took me in, and I met his eyes as boldly as I would dare. For a second, he looked almost stunned, shock rippling across his features. He couldn’t recognise me. My hair was brown, my eyes blue. It had been a full span since he had seen me last, and even then, he had only seen half my face, concealed behind beads. Besides, I was older, and my features had changed.

“The wolf girl lived, sir,” the man said from behind me, making me jump. “I’m glad you refused the wager, I’m broke enough as it is. Tell me, lady, how is the leg?”

I glanced at the man, and he stood just behind me, watching me warily. “Painful.”

The man snorted. “Good.”

When I returned my eyes to the Dragon Prince, his face was blank. He folded his arms. “Why are you here?”

“I am Vorska of Gossamir,” I said, using the name of a young tribeswoman Yvon had once mentioned. “My people have cast me out, and I come to you for shelter.”

Langnathin touched his fingers to his lips. “And why would a Euphon ever want the help of a cacof? Most of you would rather die than ally with us.”

I swallowed, swapping my arms to hold my bundle with the other arm. He caught the movement and stared at the pouch of coat at my front with something akin to hunger. I shifted my weight. “It is true that my tribe hates you. But to allow myself to die alone in the woods would be a greater crime. For in doing so, I might kill one of our most sacred beings.”

Langnathin stared. “What do you hold?”

I reached into the coat, slowly again, knowing the man at my back was big enough to fell me with one good punch. Especially now, when I was struggling to stand as it was.

Carefully, I cradled the sleeping warm flesh and pulled him up to my shoulder. He made a noise at losing his cocoon of warmth, but otherwise did not stir.

The man behind me sucked in a breath, but my eyes did not leave the prince. He was not surprised. For a few seconds he stared at the beast, and then he moved in a slow circle around me. I shuddered under the weight of his red stare, assessing the baby at my neck with unerring focus.

Then, as he reached his starting position, his eyes flicked back up to mine. “Your eyes are unnaturally blue, even for a Soundlander. You are already bonded.”

“We are,” I replied, though itwas not a question.

“How did you do it?” he pressed. “It takes my riders in the Vidarium weeks. It took me…”

Langnathin trailed off, running his fingers through his hair.

“It is a Euphon secret,” I lied.

His jaw tensed. “One you will share with us.”

“In time, when I know I am safe.”

“Safe?” he echoed. “Why would you think yourself safe here?”

My chest tightened, and I stroked a hand down the child’s back, more for my own comfort than his. “I will join you. I broke the rules when I helped Vellintris, and my people have cast me aside. I am injured, as your partner ensured. Alone, unable to hunt or forage, I will die. At your side, we could thrive. Me, and my dragon.”

The prince paused. “You come out of need, then. Not choice.”

“I am choosing not to die,” I said. “That is still a choice.”

“That is a little-won loyalty, one that is born from a desire not to die. Why would I trust you?”