Soulblade (52 page)

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“Out here, sir,” Beeline called through the front door of the house. “Wolf Squadron has something for you.”

Ridge had been about to carry a plate of meat patties and sausages out for his captains to cook, but he set the plate on the counter instead. “He sounds tickled about whatever he has for me.”

“I wish I was as tickled,” Sardelle said as she sliced radishes, carrots, and lettuce on a cutting board. Women always seemed to think vegetables should be involved in meals.

“Have you been peeking into people’s minds and spying on them?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Under tarps, actually.”

“Then you can come outside with me and hold my hand, to keep me from being overwhelmed by the surprise.”

“
You’ll
probably like it.” Her mouth twisted wryly as she set down the knife and wiped her hands.

He smiled, not in a hurry to go outside. He’d been finding this shared domestic moment quite pleasant. Sardelle had managed to shoo the dragons away for the day, the soulblades were in the bedroom, and Ridge could pretend they led a cozy, normal life.

“It’s here,” came a squeal from the open back door. Tylie raced through the kitchen on bare feet, wearing a paint-stained sundress and carrying a turtle, the latest woodland creature she had befriended.

An
almost
normal life, Ridge amended as she grinned at them and continued into the living room and out the front door.

“Shall we see what they’ve brought you?” Sardelle offered a serene smile and extended her hand.

Instead of clasping it, he stepped forward and hugged her, still amazed that she had forgiven him for forgetting about her and for traipsing through the mountains with the enemy.
More
than traipsing. He knew Sardelle wouldn’t forget, no matter what she said, but she was too good of a person to blame him for it.

“I know what you said, but I really don’t deserve you,” he mumbled, feeling a little abashed by his emotions. General Ort and the king had kept him busy at work these last weeks—Angulus in particular feeling Ridge should pay handsomely for being offered the throne by a nutcase sorceress—and Sardelle had been flying around the country, collecting candidates for the sorcery school she was planning, so they hadn’t had many quiet moments like this.

“Is it because I’m a high priestess now?” she teased, ignoring his darker thoughts, though he was sure she knew what was on his mind. She seemed to enjoy their hug and did not rush to pull away, even though pilots kept poking their noses through the front doorway to check on them.

“That
does
make you quite intimidating.”

As far as he knew, she hadn’t formally accepted that position and thought the idea of a dragon god silly, but Bhrava Saruth introduced her as his high priestess to everyone he encountered—everyone he encountered who would listen to a dragon. Rumors were spreading far and wide about her and her god. Ridge was just glad people weren’t trying to drown her for being a witch. The average Iskandian subject still feared magic or did not believe in it, but having a dragon looming over her shoulder gave her a status that few could ignore.

“So long as
you
aren’t intimidated when he shows up.” Sardelle kissed his neck, which aroused thoughts that had nothing to do with going outside to spend time with his colleagues.

“It’s hard to be intimidated by a dragon that rolls onto his back and asks for belly rubs when I come up the walkway.”

“He’s decided he’s quite fond of you. I think it’s because you carry that figurine around in your pocket. I may have convinced him early on that it depicted him.”

“Maybe it
does
. He came from the past, right? Maybe my father used some dragon in a book as a model when he carved it, and it was a picture of him.”

Sardelle leaned back so that she could look him in the eye. Too bad. He’d been enjoying the neck nuzzling. “You don’t sound that alarmed by the idea.”

“I’ll happily worship him, if he’ll help us defend the city from future attacks. I’ll even bring him cheese.”

“I haven’t noticed that Bhrava Saruth has Phelistoth’s taste for cheese wheels. He is fond of those mango tarts you brought back from your inspection down south.”

Ridge frowned toward the cupboard where he had been storing those. “The mango tarts I brought back to share with everyone here? I promised I’d have one for Angulus if he came.”

“Ah. How
big
of one?”

“It’s supposed to be a bribe. I’m trying to get him to forgive me for causing the destruction of a thousands-of-years-old castle which happened to be the oldest structure on the city’s historical landmarks register.”

“He’s no longer irked at Kaika for nearly doing the same a few months ago,” Sardelle said. “Perhaps you could ask what methods she employed to earn his forgiveness.”

“I’m not capable of using
her
methods of earning forgiveness.”

“Sure, you are.” Her eyes twinkled, and she ran her hands up his chest. “In fact, you had me in quite a forgiving mood the night after the battle. And also on the horse ride that brought us home from it, it being a shame that the stable boy could only scrounge up the one horse and we had to share.”

“Yes, but I love you. I have no interest in sharing horses with other people.” He was pleased that he could say that honestly, that even when his brain had been annoyingly vacant, he had avoided that intimacy with the sorceress.

“Mm.” She melted back against his chest, more at the proclamation of love than the horse-sharing promise, he suspected. “Perhaps Angulus would be satisfied with a nice cheese wheel instead?”

Ridge wrapped his arms back around her, enjoying the moment and no longer thinking of kings, dragons, or tarts. They managed a kiss that once again had him thinking of escaping to the bedroom before the next interruption came and forced him to tuck those thoughts away for later.

“Ridge?” a voice called from the front door. The voice that did not belong to any of his pilots.

Ridge released Sardelle and peered into the living room. His mother and father stood on the threshold, Mom in a patchwork dress that she had likely made herself and Dad in his usual adventuring clothes, which consisted of more pockets than seemed mathematically possible for garments of that size. He clutched his journal in his hand, but he managed to look Ridge in the eyes without scribbling notes in it or looking up something. Mom clutched his other hand and pulled him firmly inside. She carried a basket with an embroidered cloth covering the contents.

“Mom.” Ridge laid a parting hand on Sardelle’s back, then strode out to greet them. “You came. I wasn’t expecting you.”

They had shared a weepy reunion the day after the dragon battle, one that had moved Ridge to tears, even though
he
had never believed himself dead. The hugs, gifts, and offers of beer he’d received from his comrades had moved him, as well, making him appreciate all of his friends and colleagues in a way that one sometimes forgot to do in non-crisis day-to-day life.

Since he’d seen his mother a few times since then, he gave her a less emotional hug now, then offered an arm to include his father. As usual, Dad had been overseas during Ridge’s supposed death, so he hadn’t had to deal with any gut-wrenching emotions, if he even had the capacity for them. Ridge had never been sure. Now, Dad patted him absently on the back while peering around the house, as if looking for fascinating ancient artifacts in a forgotten temple. At least he had come.

“Your father showed up a few days ago,” Mom said. “I wanted him to see your new home. And I wanted to spend time with the lovely Sardelle of course.” Mom beamed over at her, practically oozing thoughts of pregnancy and children. If she’d heard that some dragon was claiming Sardelle as a high priestess, she didn’t show it. It was possible she hadn’t decided to believe in dragons yet.

“Days ago?” Ridge asked, waving Sardelle over to join them. She had hung back in the kitchen doorway, clearly not wanting to intrude. “Why didn’t you come sooner?”

“Because I had to lock your father in the bedroom and make him satisfy a year’s worth of womanly urges, Ridge.”

“I... I...
Mom
. I don’t want to hear about your
urges
.” He gave Sardelle a horrified and apologetic look, certain that she didn’t want to hear about his parents’ urges either. She only smiled back at him, her eyes twinkling.

“Then you shouldn’t have asked, dear.” Mom patted him on the cheek and pulled back the cloth on her basket. “Soap?”

“Are they carved into cat shapes?” Ridge scrutinized the basket. No, those didn’t look like cats.

“They’re dragon-shaped,” Mom said. “There’s a story going around about how dragons were involved in the Cofah attack on the castle earlier this month and how one apparently fought on our side. So silly! I’m certain it was just you and your flier squadron, right? Either way, dragons are incredibly trendy now. Dragon patterns are on all of the fabrics at the market, and well, you can see the results of my new soap molds.”

Ridge looked at Sardelle, again wanting to apologize, this time for the fact that they would be washing their armpits with dragon soap for the next five years.

Bhrava Saruth will be pleased
, she said into his mind.

Maybe I should introduce him to my mom.

He’s quite handsome when in human form. She might get urges.

Ridge couldn’t hold back a choking noise. He wasn’t sure whether the idea of his mom and her urges bothered him more than the fact that Sardelle had
noticed
that the faithful dragon who followed her around made a handsome human. They were both disturbing ideas.

You want disturbing, ask him to shape-shift into
your
form
, Jaxi said.

Dragons are not always familiar with what humans consider tact
, Wreltad said.

Jaxi and Wreltad were being stored out of sight for this gathering, but that didn’t keep them from popping into Ridge’s head now and then. Wreltad might be in the process of bonding to Tylie now, but he liked to chat with Ridge as much as Jaxi did.

I do believe Sardelle was most drawn to him in his ferret form
, Jaxi said.

People have been enjoying the company of soft, furry creatures since long before my time
, Wreltad added.

“Are you all right, dear?” his mother asked, touching his arm.

“Yes, I’m just choked up with emotion. It’s good to see you two together in the same room again.”

Mom smiled and hugged Dad, who gave her a squeeze back, but then leaned forward conspiratorially. “Ridge, is it true that you went to a cavern full of dragon artifacts?”

“Uhm.” He’d gone to a cavern full of
dragons
. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Could you take me there?”

“The king ordered it sealed, and the Cofah dropped bombs onto it a few weeks later. We’re fairly certain it’s collapsed and the rest of the... artifacts won’t be escaping.”

“
Sealed? Bombed?
” Dad staggered back, resting a hand on the wall for support. “Governments do
not
know how to treat ancient and sacred ruin sites.”

“Sacred?”

The god Bhrava Saruth did come out of it
, Sardelle shared with him.

Ridge’s groan was hidden by a knock on the open door. Expecting a couple of pilots trying to drag him out for whatever was waiting out front, Ridge waved the person in without looking. He was busy sharing a disgruntled look with Sardelle, whose eyes were twinkling even more now.

“Afternoon, General,” Kaika said, strolling in, also with a covered basket dangling from one hand. Seven gods, she hadn’t been making soaps, too, had she? “General’s parents.” She offered them a non-regulation salute, then walked around them and toward Sardelle.

Ridge waited to see if the king would follow her in, but he did not. The last he had seen, Angulus had been sitting at a picnic table and speaking with General Ort. From what Ridge had heard, Angulus hadn’t slept much in the last few weeks, as he and Ort had traveled all over the country, finding and instating replacements for the council leaders who had been lost in the attack. When Angulus was back in the capital, he was overseeing the rebuilding of the castle while dealing with historians and bureaucrats who demanded that as much of the original structure be saved as possible. Handling those people was probably more stressful than enduring Cofah attacks. Ridge hoped Kaika was helping Angulus find a few moments of relaxation—or invigoration, might be the better word—when he was home. They had gone back to being discreet about their relationship since that passionate reunion kiss in front of the collapsed tower, but Ridge couldn’t imagine their affair was much of a secret within the castle walls—what remained of them.

“How are you doing, Captain Kaika?” Sardelle asked when Kaika stopped in front of her. Her gaze dipped to the basket, and one eyebrow arched. “I trust you’re not in need of my services.”

“No, I’m fit enough for spirited exercise, I assure you.” Kaika winked. “I haven’t been injured in nearly four weeks, but I’ve been wanting to thank you for the times you rendered those services to me. Multiple times.”

Tylie appeared on the threshold of the front door. She smiled shyly at Ridge, but her gaze locked onto the basket. The turtle in her arms had been replaced by a small golden-furred creature that Ridge hadn’t seen before.

Jaxi sniggered into his mind.

That’s not a ferret, is it?
Ridge asked.

I am the god Bhrava Saruth
, the dragon’s voice rang into Ridge’s head, not diminished at all by the fact that it was being projected from a ferret.
I heard you speaking about me,
he added.

We were discussing dragon soaps.

Icons of me? Most acceptable.

The ferret chittered, then jumped out of Tylie’s arms as she crept closer to Kaika and the basket.

Ridge stepped back, but that didn’t keep the golden-furred creature from landing on his arm and climbing up to his shoulder. It chirped in his ear, and he rubbed its fur obligingly.