Page 28 of Valor’s Flight (The New Protectorate #5)

Chapter Seventeen

She ran until she hit the border of her land. Even then, it wasn’t until the familiar, comforting weight of her wards closed over her that she felt she could breathe freely again.

It wasn’t unusual for her to leave town feeling uncomfortable, even unsafe.

But this particular encounter left her shaken to her core.

The sense that she’d narrowly escaped something ugly was a shadow over her mind.

It chased her all the way back to the edge of her forest, which seemed to hum with concern all around her.

Pausing to catch her breath, Alashiya placed a hand on a tree trunk.

Its energy, the thrum of its very soul, chorused through the sensitive pads of her fingers and palm.

Plants couldn’t speak, but they held a consciousness of their own.

Their language was one of pulses, feeling.

Trees were especially aware and tended to communicate as a unit rather than individuals.

So it was the whole forest who wondered what had so disturbed her. It was an impression rather than words, but Alashiya didn’t need words to understand.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, stroking the papery bark reassuringly.

The forest wasn’t a pet. It wasn’t soft or kind or forgiving, and it didn’t necessarily ask her out of any concern for her wellbeing, but rather that of itself.

The forest had viewed her as one of its own since the night her grove died, when it’d sheltered her and stood guard for days, until her grieving grandparents dug her out of the soil and the tangle of roots that had sustained her.

A threat to her might well be a threat to the collective and ought to be dealt with swiftly.

To the forest, she was just another sapling.

It didn’t necessarily need or even understand her affection, but she thought the forest enjoyed her attention.

Even though it never told her as much, it might even like it when she petted a trunk every now and again.

Sensing that there was no imminent threat to itself, the ancient consciousness of the trees retreated back into itself, its attention drawn to more important things.

The air was warm and heavy with moisture. It clung to her skin, promising another summer storm. She breathed it in and willed her heartbeat to slow.

The house stood unchanged on the slight hill.

Her garden glowed with life in the sun. If she slipped her shoes off and dug her toes in the soil, she would’ve been able to hear the happy, wordless chattering of her plants all the way from the forest’s edge.

Being so close to home helped calm her at last.

They could’ve just been hunters, she reasoned, grunting with discomfort as she switched her bag to her other shoulder. Monty takes groups out all the time, though gods only know why anyone hires him.

But two dragons in a week? Alashiya couldn’t dismiss that.

Their gear looked brand new, too. And those three men… They didn’t act normal. They didn’t even speak.

All of it felt off, though she couldn’t say anyone besides Monty had done anything wrong.

But that was normal, in its own way. She sometimes thought that he believed he could eventually wear her down with his cruelty and she’d just give in to whatever he wanted.

It’d worked for him in the past. Most folks didn’t say no to him because it was too much trouble.

It was unlucky for Taevas that Monty was the only man she knew who owned a satellite phone. And it was even more unlucky for her that she hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask him about it.

Feeling defeated by it all, Alashiya wiped the sweat from her forehead and trudged grimly across the yard. She was stepping through the kitchen door when something Monty said registered in her mind at last.

“You only paid me for a week,” he’d reminded the dragon. And he’d argued with Debbie about the price of a week’s worth of MREs, the pre-made meals hunters often took on long trips.

“No,” Alashiya moaned, dropping her bag on the kitchen table. A bottle of cooking oil tumbled out and rolled onto the floor with a mocking thump. “He’s going to be hunting for a week.”

Which meant that he wouldn’t be able to lend her his phone for that time, and Taevas was left high and dry.

Silently cursing her foul luck, Alashiya took the time to splash cool water on her face and the back of her neck before she sought out her guest. It was with a nasty jolt of surprise that she found his bed empty.

She’d barely noticed that he’d taken the blanket and pillow off before she darted back down the hall to the living room.

Fear clamped itself around her throat, holding tight, as she imagined what he could’ve done with Adon’s robe, with the only precious things she possessed.

Almost none of it would be of value to him, but that had never stopped people from destroying or stealing things before.

And her commission for Adon was valuable, at least in the gold she sewed on it.

Imagining every worst case scenario, including finding him dead of whatever ailed him, Alashiya rushed into the living room.

“Taevas?” she called, frantically taking stock of her quilts, her work table, and all the other things that wouldn’t have value to anyone but her.

Nothing appeared disturbed. The robe lay on her workbench in exactly the way she’d left it. The blood rushed from her head in a dizzying wave. Thinking that perhaps he was in the bathroom, she turned to leave the room. “Taevas, are you—”

A faint rustling drew her back into the living room.

Alashiya stepped inside slowly, her gaze moving in a careful sweep over the room, until it landed on her bed.

At first she didn’t notice anything amiss.

Her bed consisted of three mattresses sewn together on the floor, piled high with every bit of bedding and pillow she could find.

After long days of hunching over her work, it was a luxury to be able to lay completely flat or in any position that eased her aching muscles, necessitating a large, customizable bed.

So it took her a moment to notice, amongst the many blankets and cushions, the shape of the dragon, his large body sprawled across the mattresses.

He lay on his front, she thought. Most of the dragon was obscured by blankets he’d pulled haphazardly over himself, but a fall of raven black hair over a white cotton pillowcase gave him away.

Alashiya took all this in with a galloping heart. Thank the gods.

It was annoying, certainly, but compared to what she’d imagined, finding the dragon taking a nap in her bed really wasn’t that bad.

The bed in the other room had been quite small for him, she admitted to herself. And if he’d been in pain or feeling ill, perhaps he’d sought a more comfortable place to rest. Her chest squeezed with empathy.

It wasn’t good guest behavior, but it was at least understandable.

And if she were being honest, there was something secretly thrilling about seeing him in her bed.

No man had ever slept there before. To know he was sprawled across her sheets was oddly tantalizing.

A blush heated her cheeks when she found herself wondering if her blankets would smell like him now.

Kneeling beside the bed, she gently peeled away some of the blankets from around Taevas’s face. He stirred a little. Groaning, he clutched a blanket and drew it to his nose. The deep furrowing of his brow eased after a deep breath.

Something went tight in her chest as she watched him.

Taevas had seemed very fierce, and she didn’t doubt he was, but there was nothing besides softness to him as he lay in her bed, the lines of exhaustion around his mouth and eyes erased.

She didn’t want to wake him — and not only because she had bad news.

It was… nice, seeing him so relaxed. She’d gotten used to the dragon in her kitchen, and though it seemed impossible only a day before, she thought she could get used to seeing this man in her home. For a little while, at least.

In the end, it was her concern over his health that forced her hand.

Alashiya gave his bare shoulder a gentle shake. His skin was blazing hot under her palm. Her concern mounted when he didn’t rouse right away, but groaned a complaint and kept his eyes closed.

“Taevas,” she whispered, patting his hot cheek. “Taevas, you have to wake up. I have some medicine you need to take.”

Her alarm spiked when he still didn’t respond. Leaning in close to check his breathing, she ordered, “Wake up, dragon!”

Glazed violet eyes snapped open just as something snaked around her waist and cinched tight. “Naughty. You left,” he muttered in a hoarse voice, upper lip curling to reveal his fangs. “You’re not allowed to leave. I forbid it.”

Alashiya blinked rapidly. There’d been no basis for comparison before, but now that she’d met two dragons, she realized that this one didn’t scare her.

Not in the way the blue dragon had — like one wrong move would see him tearing her limb from limb, that charming smile fixed on his face all the while.

Trying to process that revelation while Taevas glared at her through narrowed eyes, she replied, “I got medicine. I think you should take it.”

“I don’t want medicine,” he complained. “I want to go home. I need to go home.”

Realizing that she was dealing with someone not quite in their right mind, she gentled her tone. “I know you do, but taking the medicine will help us figure out how to get you there.”

Taevas’s look turned downright mutinous. “Not you. Us.”

“Huh?” She tried to sit back a little, but his tail held her there. Unwilling to jostle him too much, Alashiya held still. “Can you let me go? I’ve got to—”

“Never, never,” Taevas hissed, eyelids drooping. The end of his tail rattled violently against her.

Sensing that she was getting nowhere fast, Alashiya tried a different tactic. “Okay, dragon. Okay. If I promise to stay here with you, will you let me get the medicine from the kitchen? I’ll come right back.”

He squinted at her for several long seconds, his expression grave. “Promises can be broken, metsalill. Minu metsalill. How do I know you’ll come back? You’re rebellious. Always hiding from me. I just found you. No more hiding.”

That tight feeling returned, though she hadn’t a clue as to why; only that he looked so sad, so expectant, that she couldn’t stand it. Her pulse quickened when she dared to stroke the curve of his cheek with the tips of her fingers.

“Some promises are harder to keep than others. This is an easy one, argaman mlk.”

He turned his face into her touch, seeking her fingers with a long, relieved sigh. “Don’t break my heart, please.”

The hook in her chest threatened to pull her heart out and show it to him. “I won’t,” she whispered, stroking his brow. “I promise.”