Chapter 9
Kaya
A freezing wind travels from the toes of my boots to the top of my head, and I can’t move. If I could, I would be shivering so hard that my teeth would crack.
In the dark, Cyrus is suddenly standing right in front of me.
Then he shimmers into nothingness. My frozen state retreats from my body and I turn to run, fear eating all my good sense. I sprint out of the structure, through the courtyard, under the archway entrance to the ruins, and across the one sturdy board.
But the wood snaps beneath me. The ancient moat’s thorny ditch rushes toward me and I land hard. Pain branches up my hand and I cry out.
Cyrus flies down to me, scoops me up, and takes off. Tears stream down my face.
“What hurts?” he asks as we fly through the starry night.
“My hand. I think it’s broken.” My pulse thumps in my hand, the sensation particularly strong in my thumb.
“Why did you go in there?”
“I was following you.”
“I didn’t enter the ruins. Did you trail me from town?”
I nod, savoring the heat of his chest and arms through his clothing even as the pain in my thumb screams. “I saw you in the corridor. Inside the castle. You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I’m not lying. I almost went in and decided against it. I was sitting under the double oak just past the stream.”
“But…”
“I don’t know what you saw, but it wasn’t me,” Cyrus says. The wind tears at his hair and he squints down at me.
“There aren’t any other dragon shifters, though,” I say. “And your eyes are the only ones that look like that. Like dragon eyes with the fiery flecks of color and?—”
Pain takes the last of my words and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Cyrus holds me tighter, and soon we are landing outside Delixian’s place. The windows of the healer’s house are dark. No wonder—it’s the middle of the night. Cyrus knocks on the door with his boot.
“Eh, Delixian! We have an emergency!”
“You can let me down,” I say. “My legs are fine.”
“You’re freezing. I’m not letting you go, sweetness.”
My heart warms, easing some of the cold that seems baked into my bones since that paralyzing moment in the ruins.
I try to hold my hand in a way that hurts less. “I’m an idiot.”
“No, it’s my fault. You were only trying to help my dumb arse.”
“It’s normal for you to be curious about your kind. I would be.”
Delixian opens the door, his blue face drawn with fatigue. “Please, come in.”
He gestures to the long table he uses for his healing work, and Cyrus sets me on the wooden surface. I am sitting up, holding my hand like it’s on fire because that’s exactly how it feels. Delixian’s gaze goes up and down as he takes stock of my injuries. He nods, more to himself, I think, then he goes to another table along the wall. Pixie wings fluttering slightly, he grabs dried herbs from the clusters hanging from hooks above his head and then grinds them into a pestle.
“Tell me what happened,” he says, his voice curt but not unkind. Businesslike.
“I fell off a bridge into a ditch. I think I broke my thumb, maybe? I’m not sure.” I realize now that I have scratches and cuts all over my arms and even on my neck and cheeks. Some are bleeding freely.
Cyrus meets my eyes, and I know he is wondering if we should admit to going to the ruins. It will make him and everyone else who finds out very nervous because of the curse.
“Which bridge?” Delixian fills a teapot with water from his pump sink and places it on the wood-burning stove in the corner. He bends to stir the coals and to add a bunch of small pieces of wood.
Pain is making it hard to breathe.
Cyrus’s hand covers my uninjured one. He sends heat into my skin, an ability he has as a dragon shifter. It feels so nice that if I weren’t dealing with cuts and broken parts, I’d probably lean right into it and sigh.
“She is hurting pretty badly, Del. Can I help you hurry up whatever concoction you’ve got going there?”
The healer glances at Cyrus, and his eyes tighten like he’s suspicious of something. “Go to the green cabinet over there. Get out a roll of gauze, that brown glass bottle, and two of the flat, wooden sticks.”
Cyrus pats my leg gently and gives me a pained look, like my injury is hurting him too. He follows Delixian’s orders. The teapot whistles. The blue pixie pours steaming water over the herbs he ground. He transfers the stuff to a small cup and brings it to me. It smells like the forest and mushrooms.
“Drink up. It will make you drowsy, but you can stay here for the last part of the night. All right?”
Cyrus deposits Delixian’s requested items onto the table beside us. “I’ll stick around and keep an eye on her,” Cyrus says.
The healer nods and uses a small knife from his belt to cut the gauze. “Good. Then I can go back to sleep. You were at the ruins, weren’t you?”
I swallow. “Why do you say that?”
Cyrus’s mouth lifts at one side like he’s amused at my inability to be sneaky in any way, shape, or form. He fetches a clean square of cloth and wets it at the sink. He returns to my side and starts cleaning my cuts with easy, gentle movements. I give him a smile and mouth thanks .
“Because I saw a ghost around the ruins once. Only a flash of light, but I know what I saw, and you are suffering the effects of seeing a ghost that wasn’t planning on a run-in with a living soul.”
“She followed me,” Cyrus says, finally giving Delixian his answer. “I’m the idiot here.”
“You both are,” the healer says, shocking me. “In more than one way.”
Cyrus’s lip curls, showing his sharp, dragon teeth. “That’s a bit harsh for someone dealing with a broken hand, don’t you think, healer?” His tone is biting and his eyes are bright.
The pixie shrugs and flaps his wings, making Cyrus back up. “I’m not a seer or an advisor, so you’ll have to figure all this out yourselves tonight.”
What did he mean exactly?
The herbs must be taking effect because I can no longer focus on anyone’s face, and I feel like I’m floating a few inches off the table. But despite the concoction’s fuzzy relief, the next few moments are not pleasant. Cyrus is nearly snarling as Delixian splints my thumb.
I must drift off because I realize I’m on the two-person-wide chair in Delixian’s sitting area now. The large cushions envelope me, and an incredibly soft, white blanket covers me from my bootless feet to my chin. My thumb is still throbbing, but it’s not nearly as bad as it was. I blink up at Cyrus, who is sitting in a straight-backed chair he’s pulled up beside me. His wings stretch wide, creating a cocoon effect and blocking out the first of the morning’s light. The dawn turns his green wings into a golden sage color as the light tries to pass through. The large claws on the tips of each wing look massive for some reason. I rub my eyes with my good hand, then look again.
“Your hooks are bigger.”
His eyebrows lift and he leans close. “My what is what?” His flecked eyes dance.
“Not hooks.” I shake my head in an attempt to clear it. That doesn’t work. “Your wing claw things.”
“Wing talons, sweetness. They’re called wing talons. And aye, they do that sometimes.”
“They do? I never knew that about you.”
“It’s not something I like to discuss. It’s…”
“Are you blushing?” I grin and lift my right hand, forgetting my thumb is broken. I wince and hiss with pain.
Cyrus’s face drops, and he reaches for a cup on the side table. He puts it to my lips. “Have a little more. You don’t need to be in pain right now.”
I drink a bit more of the forest-tasting concoction. “I saw a dragon in those ruins, Cyrus,” I say, my words slurring a bit.
“I believe you.”
“Because I was so cold when you found me?”
“Aye. I think Delixian is right. Something is definitely up there.”
I chew my lip. “I think so, too.”
“It might be the ghost of the dragon shifter that DeFleurtis told me about,” Cyrus says.
“What does he know, what say he him…” I chuckle at myself. “I can’t get words going.”
Smiling patiently, Cyrus takes the cup from me and puts it back on the side table. “The shifter had some godsawful name I can’t remember. Completely pretentious.”
“Definitely related to you then.”
Cyrus feigns a glare at me, and I snicker.
“What else did he say?” I ask.
“Nothing. He just claims there is more to see.”
“At the ruins.”
“Yes.”
“I would ask you to not go there, but it’s a waste of my breath,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “I am tempted.”
“Unless I die right here. Then you might stay away from the ruins?”
He barks a laugh. “Kaya, don’t say that. You’re fine, aren’t you? Your color is back. It’s just a broken thumb, right?” His gaze peppers my face and body.
“I was teasing. I’m okay. Should check on DeFleurtis and see if…” I can’t remember what I was saying.
“Check to see if he really did just have a sprained ankle and the curse didn’t kill him?”
I nod and shut my eyes. I don’t know how much time passes, but I dream of Sio telling me he opened up the bakery and now knows how to count change.
My heart flies into my mouth. I shoot up. “Lady Egrettington’s order! I have to finish today!”
The room tilts and sways.
“Eh, easy, Kaya. You have to be still for a bit.”
He tries to ease me back, but I fight him and remain upright.
“I don’t have time for resting. I have to bake. With one hand!” My eyes are burning, damn them. I don’t have time for tears either. “This blasted concoction is making thinking impossible!”
“This blasted drink has healing properties that Delixian says will knit your bones faster if you remain still for another hour. You’ll still have to remain splinted and not use that hand for a while, but?—”
“I need this hand! I am the baker! I want to be independennnn…”
Cyrus spreads his wings more fully and I’m cloaked in a golden, sage-hued light. I feel so safe and like nothing matters but us right now. I sit back, allowing my eyes to close and my thoughts to float away.
I hear Cyrus talking as the concoction takes over again.
“…and I will make your chocolate croissants,” he whispers. “Laini and Tully will help. We will get it done, don’t worry. Just sleep…”