Authors: Jacquelyn Frank
“I can see why they would find that protective.”
He spurred his horse and they, Tonkin, the mem, and four outriders began their journey toward the Asdar Mountains.
She didn’t know why, but in spite of her pain, she felt the ride was very peaceful. Maybe it was because she was relieved to be headed toward Koro at last. And now that she felt a little less guarded toward him, she and Garreth spoke a lot—mostly about various cultural things, but it always seemed to come back around to her having been a slave and locked away from the world. Since that was the only life she had known, it made sense.
“So your parents were allowed to marry?”
“Mate. Marrying is for Kithians … I mean, the masters,” she corrected herself. He had insisted that she too was a Kithian and should refer to herself as such. Whenever she referred to herself or other slaves as the scourge, he’d tense up and correct her on the matter.
“But they looked on each other as exclusive mates, so it was as good as being wed,” he pointed out.
“I suppose. But as good as still isn’t quite enough,” she said with a forlorn little sigh.
“But they broke all the rules. They fell in love first, then asked permission to mate afterward.”
“Yes. And then again to have my brother. And again
to have my sisters. I think the bennesah liked the strength of their children.”
“I can see why,” he said.
The horse went up over an incline of rocks and she hissed in pain. The terrain had grown rockier as they went. They were in the valley now, a narrow canyon that would eventually open up, wide enough for the reeling wings of behemoth wyverns.
“We should be close to your dragon soon,” he encouraged her.
“Wyvern. Not dragon.”
“What is the difference between them?”
“Size. Dragons are larger. And dragons have four legs. Wyverns have only two, though they do have small claws at the crests of their wings, which they can use to grab things if they like.”
“Have you ever seen a dragon?”
“No. Have you?” she asked.
“I have. Four legs, not two,” he assured her.
“Where did you see a dragon?”
“The Isle of Thiss is lousy with them,” he said.
“Why were you there?”
“A quest of sorts.”
“Of sorts?”
“Well, apparently a dragon made off with the king’s virgin daughter.”
“And you got her back? Alive?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“What would a dragon do with a girl, besides maybe eat her?”
“Oh, these weren’t just any dragons. They were were-dragons. They can be dragons or they can be men. Apparently the king’s people had been sacrificing virgins for turnings … using a lottery to pick which one would go next. As you can imagine, not many women volunteer to go with a dragon.”
“I can see why!”
“Ah, but none of them ever wants to come back,” he said with a wink.
“Why not?” she asked, her innocence shining through.
“Let’s just say … were-dragons make legendary lovers.”
“Oh!” She flushed that charming shade of violet again.
“Apparently the king’s daughter had rigged the lottery so she would be next to go. The king had had her name removed from the start so she would never be picked … although he never told her that. So imagine his surprise when they called her name.”
“Why did she want to go?”
“Because they make legendary lovers,” he said with a chuckle.
“Oh!” She laughed. “It sounds like she was very headstrong.”
“She was. Needless to say, she wasn’t at all pleased to see me and my men coming for her at her father’s behest. And I didn’t know any of this when I set out after her. So I thought I was rescuing a poor innocent lass.”
“Oh my.”
“Yes. I was fighting a dragon and suddenly this girl comes out of nowhere, shoves me onto my backside, and cries out ‘Hands off my dragon!’ The dragon shifts into a man, drags her into his arms, and kisses her like the world was about to end, and she wasn’t exactly kicking and screaming.”
“So what happened next?”
“After I made certain she wasn’t there against her will, I packed up my men, went back to the king, and told him where he could stick his reward gold. You see, dragons are very rich, and that one paid me quite handsomely to leave them be.”
Sarielle giggled. “Well, at least they were happy.”
“Oh aye. They were very happy indeed. It’s a happiness any man would wish for.”
“Including you?” she asked.
“No. I’ll never be able to have that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t,” he said shortly.
“Okay,” she said with a frown. “Have you ever been married?” Maybe he was pining for a lost love, she thought.
“Yes.”
“And you’re not now?”
“My wife died a very long time ago,” he said.
“And you … didn’t love her like the dragon loved his lady?”
“Not like that, no.”
“But you did love her a little,” she realized.
“We were very good friends, she and I. She was a good wife. But we didn’t have what my brother and his wife have. The kind of love that blinds you to most everything else in the world.”
“He’s very fortunate, your brother.”
“Yes, he is. And my new sister is very good to him. She just recently gave him a son. He’s quite the proud papa.”
“I’m sure he’s a very handsome boy, like his father and uncles. Where are your other brothers?”
Again that shuttered expression descended on his features.
“I don’t know right now. But I hope to one day soon.”
“Why don’t you know? Don’t you write to one another?”
“I cannot get a message to them, nor they to me. What of your brother?” he asked, clearly shifting the topic away from himself.
“He died only a few days after his birth,” she said with sadness. “It was so hard on my parents. I think it
broke their hearts. Everything seemed to fall apart after that.”
“How much farther to the caves?” he asked her.
“Oh, soon.” She gnawed her lower lip nervously. “I hope he makes it.”
“
He?
I hope
you
make it.”
“I’ll be all right,” she insisted.
His response was just a grunt. He obviously wasn’t convinced.
“We’ll have to stop soon,” he said as he looked at the lowering sun.
“But … we can get in at least another hour before it gets dark,” she said.
“I don’t think you have another hour in you. Or did you think I haven’t noticed?”
She sighed. “You’re very observant.”
“You have to be to survive in this world. You never know when a wyvern might suddenly show up.”
“True,” she said with a wry smile. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. You weren’t given a choice.” He reined in and looked back at the others. “We make camp here tonight.”
“Yes, Sor Garreth,” Tonkin said. “All right, you all heard the man!”
Garreth dismounted and carried her over to where there was an outcropping of rocks. “This will provide some shelter.” There was concern in his eyes as he looked at her. “Here, let me see your wounds.”
“I’m fine,” she said, stopping his hands before they reached her body.
“The more you say that, the more I don’t believe you,” he said. He shielded her from the others with his big body and untied the laces that went down the front of her robe. Sarielle grabbed his hands, drawing in a startled breath.
“I want to see your wounds,” he said softly.
“But I …” She flushed. “I am not used to such familiarity from a man,” she said.
“I will not be satisfied until I see them, Sarielle.”
She bit her lip but then acquiesced, letting go of his hands and allowing him to continue. Garreth parted the material of her robe and looked at her belly. But when he moved the robe aside, his fingertips brushed the bare underside of her breast and she drew in her breath sharply at the sensation. For some reason a wicked flash of heat had bolted through her, and now her nipple was puckered in response.
His gaze darted up to hers, and she could see his eyes dilating and darkening. He looked away from her and down at the wounds on her belly, one of which was healing nicely, two of which were beginning to fester.
“Infection has set in,” he said, his voice gruff.
“I—” She paused when his fingers brushed beneath her breast again. This time, she knew, his touch had not been accidental. He was looking her in the eye now, waiting for her to react. “Koro must have an infection,” she said a bit breathlessly.
“So it would seem. I am concerned. You feel very warm. Almost feverish.” His fingertips drew slowly down over her ribs on the left side.
“Milord, where should we set the fire?”
Garreth jumped at the sound. Tonkin’s words broke the spell that had begun to slowly weave between them. Garreth jerked her robe closed quickly so no one else could see her.
“Just here,” he said with a nod of his head toward the place he wanted the fire to be. He turned back to her. “I must go for a little while. You will be safe with Tonkin and the others. We will continue this later.”
This? Did he mean their conversation or … or the touching?
“Where are you going?” she asked.
A frown darkened his features. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back later.”
“These mountains are not safe,” she said anxiously. “There are manticores and—”
“I’ll be fine,” he said firmly, tying the last tie on her robe. “Tonkin, watch her carefully. Mem Vivre, do for her what you can.”
“Yes, Sor Garreth,” the old woman said.
Garreth walked off, heading deeper into the mountainous region. Sarielle watched him with concern until she couldn’t see him any longer.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” the mem said with a cackling laugh. “He’ll be fine.”
“I wasn’t worried,” she lied hastily.
“Mm,” the crone said, clearly not convinced. “He’s a good man, you know.”
“Yes,” she replied softly. “I am beginning to see that.”
“Your wyvern will be safe. I can assure you of that. Provided we get there in time. These wounds look very ill and you have a fever. I can see it in your eyes.”
Sarielle wasn’t all that sure the heat in her body was simply from the wounds. She could still feel Garreth’s touch against her skin, never mind that the touch had been so light she had barely felt it to begin with. But they both had known he was touching her. It had been very intimate.
“Why has he left?” she asked.
“He does it every night at dusk. No one knows why. We just see him go.”
Sarielle craned her head, trying to see him.
“He’ll be back. Usually just after the juquil’s hour.”
“I wonder why.”
“Just to be alone is my guess. Sor Garreth is a man of many feelings. He does not wish anyone to know what
they are usually, but it is clear he has them just the same.”
They fell silent as the mem made busywork for herself, creating some sort of noxious brew in a pot over the fire. The smell combined with the aroma of cooking meat, which Tonkin had spitted and supported above the fire, and both odors made Sarielle nauseous. Exhausted and spent, she lay back in the bedroll Tonkin had arranged for her and soon, in spite of her pain, she fell asleep.
It was fully dark by the time she woke up, and everyone in the camp was asleep … save one. Garreth was quietly wending his way around the sleeping bodies. The moon was still very high, so she could see him quite clearly. What was truly odd was that she thought she saw his breath on the air, as if it were a winter day and he was breathing frost into it. But of course even though it was cooler in the mountains, it was still only the end of summer. It would be impossible for her to see what she thought she’d seen.
Tonkin had laid out Garreth’s bedroll right next to hers, so she watched his every movement as he sat down upon it. He drew his legs in tightly to his body and she realized he was shivering. She also felt as though the temperature had lowered with his arrival.
It was all very odd.
“Garreth?” she said tentatively.
His head turned with a snap as he looked at her.
“Why are you awake?” he asked. “You should be resting.” He spoke his words through his teeth and she took offense.
“I did not plan to awaken. I simply did.”
Garreth sighed. She couldn’t know that he spoke through his teeth because if he opened them they would
begin to chatter. “Are you in any pain?” he asked, using every ounce of willpower to speak normally to her.
Her irritation with him seemed to immediately subside. “Yes. But it is tolerable.”
“I suppose that is the best we can hope for,” he said.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed.
“Try to sleep,” he said to her. He wanted to reach out and give her a comforting touch, but he knew his hands would feel like solid ice and he wasn’t prepared to explain why.
But to his relief she closed her eyes, rolled over as gingerly as she could, and went back to sleep.
Garreth exhaled on the night air, watching his breath cloud upon it. Soon, he told himself. Soon it would subside and he could try to feel warm again. But warmth was a precious thing in his world, he realized. Rare and hard to find. Just as the warmth of her body was a rare and special thing. She had felt so incredibly warm under the touch of his fingertips. He had wanted to do more than just those teasing, wispy caresses. He had craved the weight of her breast in his hand. Had longed for the point of her nipple beneath his thumb.