05 Dragon Blood: The Blade's Memory

by Lindsay Buroker

  Sardelle smiled. “As you’ll recall, dragons can shapeshift. But no, this is more the human interpretation of the dragon language than anything they would have written. Dragons themselves were capable of writing, usually using their minds to do so, but they had genetic memories and rarely bothered to record their history, at least not in a way we could understand.”

  “You said Ahn’s sword has this language on it?” Ridge seemed to be trying to picture the symbols on the scabbard. He probably hadn’t had a good look at the weapon. They had been busy traveling since retrieving it, and Cas hadn’t exactly been showing it off. She always kept it close, not asking anyone else to carry it.

  “Yes.” Sardelle sat up and touched the side of his face, hoping he wouldn’t mind the sharing of the information. She did her best to picture the scabbard in her mind, making the details of those symbols as precise as her memory allowed. She stroked his cheek as she did so, scarcely able to remember the last time they had been alone together. True, Duck’s faint snores reminded her they were not entirely alone, but the house was quiet, peaceful. If they hadn’t had so much to worry about—Kaika, gods, how was she going to get Kaika out of that castle?—she might have slid her hand around to the back of his head and kissed him.

  “Oh.” Ridge’s eyes widened. “Oh! I’ve seen those somewhere else. Just last night.”

  Assuming he meant the language and that her thoughts of kissing hadn’t seeped through the link, she asked, “Where?” Dragon Script wasn’t common anywhere anymore.

  “Under Therrik’s bed.”

  “Uhm, what?”

  “Here.” He rested his hand atop hers, keeping hers pressed to his cheek. “Can you tell what I’m thinking?”

  Much as she had, he formed an image in his mind. She saw a wooden floor with broken glass scattered across it, and a long, oblong box sticking out from underneath a bed. The same two languages appeared on the top of it. The words weren’t the same as those on the sword, and she would have to visit a library to find out what they said, but she doubted it was a coincidence that the same scripts had been used.

  “You say Colonel Therrik has that box?” Sardelle asked. “How odd.”

  “Yup, it was hidden under the bed where a normal man puts a collection of souvenir beer steins. Assuming his collection hasn’t been blown up. Along with his bed. And his house.” Ridge’s mouth twisted with rare bitterness.

  Sardelle wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him on the neck. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

  “Right, your house would have blown up anyway, even if you had never met me.”

  “It’s always a possibility.” Ridge rested his hand on the back of her head and smiled into her hair, his bitterness fading quickly, as negative emotions usually seemed to for him. She wished she could let things go so easily. “Did you know Therrik’s house is regularly vandalized? The MPs barely even report it anymore.” Now he sounded tickled.

  “How did a man like that get an ancient dragon-slaying sword?”

  Ridge pulled back enough to look her in the eyes, though he wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping her close. “Is that Kasandral’s box then?”

  “I’d have to take a closer look to say unequivocally, but from what you shared, it seems likely.”

  “Now I really wish we had questioned him. Maybe this has something to do with why he’s the queen’s new favorite.”

  “Is he? Hm.”

  “Yeah, let me tell you about last night.”

  “I should tell you about my last night too.” As much as Sardelle did not want to relive losing Kaika, he might see something she had missed in glimpsing the events through her eyes. “Here. Lie down with me, will you? If it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, we can share our memories. The way we did while sitting on that log in Cofahre.”

  She thought Ridge might object, but he only smiled again and said, “I seem to remember that devolved into you thinking sexy thoughts about my back.”

  “I’ll try to restrain myself this time.” Sardelle scooted to the other side of the bed to make room.

  “That’s not any fun.” Ridge lay down beside her, clasping hands with her.

  “You go first.” It was easier for her to read his thoughts than it would be to share hers with him, since he didn’t have any affinity for telepathy.

  He closed his eyes and thought about the previous night’s events, everything from how they had found Tolemek’s lab emptied out and locked up, to the disturbing scene at General Ort’s house, to the conversation he had overheard from Therrik’s bedroom. She saw and heard what he had experienced and his emotions, as well. He feared losing Ort, not only because of their years working together, but because he had been feeling overwhelmed ever since he dumped Therrik on the road north of the city. He had wanted to confess everything to a superior officer and let someone else take charge. She had no trouble understanding that, even if it surprised her because she had not realized he felt that way; he always seemed so calm and decisive, even when everything was going wrong around him.

  He was chagrined but sheepishly amused that he had thrown the knockout grenade through Therrik’s window only to realize nobody was home. It amused her, too, and she curled on her side to face him, resting her free hand on his chest and thinking of snuggling closer. She appreciated his humor and would have liked to bask in it for a time. But it was her turn to share, and there would be little to amuse either of them in that story.

  She lost herself in the relaying of the events, and even though she did not want to saddle him with her emotional problems, if he wanted to know he wasn’t the only one feeling overwhelmed and lost, he would have that from her, along with all of her other feelings. She couldn’t hold back the helplessness and desolation she still experienced over being the lone survivor among her people, the dejection she felt every day, knowing nobody in her homeland wanted her there anymore, and lastly, she shared the pain that Cas’s rejection had given her, how it had seemed that even the few friends she had made did not want her here. By the time she finished sharing the night’s experiences, tears streaked down her cheeks.

  “Sardelle,” Ridge murmured, shifting onto his side, facing her, and resting his hand on her hip.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “I just meant to relay the facts, not complain.”

  He eased closer to her and wiped her tears with his thumb as he kissed her gently. “First off,” he said, his voice hoarse, “you can complain whenever you want. You have more reason than any of us to do so, and you’re not even on anybody’s payroll. You’ve been helping us just because… I don’t even know why. You redeemed your word to Tolemek and freed his sister. You went to the castle to help me and to help Kaika. Maybe I should have asked if you wanted to continue helping. You certainly don’t owe any of us anything.” He rubbed her hip and kissed her again. She closed her eyes, needing his touch, his words, like the first day of sun after a long winter storm. “Kaika wouldn’t blame you for her getting caught,” Ridge said. “She knew the risks when she picked that mission. Everything you’re doing for us, it’s a favor. I know that. You’re right that Iskandia hasn’t given you a reason to want to help yet. I wish I could change that. I don’t know if it’ll ever be in my power to do that, but I’ll try.”

  Sardelle wanted him to know how much it meant to her that he appreciated her, but was not sure if she could manage words, or even what she would say if she could, so she kissed him back instead. Sometimes that was easier than talking. Her salty tears moistened their lips, and for a time, their embrace was one of finding comfort in each other, but the space between them gradually disappeared, with Ridge’s leg covering hers. Sardelle shifted closer and slid her hand around his head, loving the feel of his short soft hair as she massaged his scalp. He rubbed her through her shirt, his fingers slipping beneath the hem to find warm skin. His touch made her shiver, and his thoughts did too. Genuine appreciation for her mingled with his desire. He wasn’t su
re what kept her here, especially when his plans were so sketchy and the odds seemed against them, but it meant everything to him that she was helping his team.

  You keep me here, she told him, forgetting to speak aloud—her lips were too busy for that.

  He growled softly—there might have been a good in there, but it was hard to tell—and shifted atop her, his hands drifting to the buttons of her shirt. As close as they were, she felt everything he experienced. Knowing how much he wanted her took the fire kindling within her from a spark to a flame. She groaned into his mouth and fumbled with his buttons, wanting to run her hands over his muscular shoulders and down his sleek waist to cup his tight—

  Ridge paused, his lips lifting an inch from hers.

  “Mm?” Sardelle couldn’t manage anything more articulate, but she wanted to protest the parting. She had won the war with the buttons and ran her hands up the contoured lines of his arms to his shoulders, barely resisting the urge to dig her nails in and pull him back down to her. They had more clothing to remove, and she didn’t care if he had heard the return of one of his men or not.

  “Nothing.” His lips lowered, attending to more than her mouth this time. She arched up toward him, eager for that attention. But Ridge pulled up again, his breathing heavy as he gazed down at her, lust mixing with an uncommon uncertainty that had just appeared. “Well.”

  “What is it?” she breathed, though she wanted to tell him to return his mouth to what it had been doing.

  “It’s just that I’d forgotten that we’re in my mom’s bed.” His face crinkled, and he whispered, “What if she and my dad… I mean they probably don’t because they’re old, but…”

  Sardelle could have laughed at his expression, but she was too busy running her hands over his warm skin and trying to pull him lower again. “Old? Ridgewalker Zirkander, I promise I’m still going to want you between my legs even when we’re their age. Much as I want you right now.”

  “So you think they do still do it?” He looked dubiously at the quilt.

  “We can use the floor if it’ll make you feel better.” So long as they used something. She moved her hands around to his belt buckle, brushing him through his trousers, hoping to push any thoughts of his parents from his head.

  He groaned, leaning into her hand. “No, no, not necessary.” His lips finally returned to hers, and he kissed her deep and hard. They broke only long enough to remove the rest of their clothing, but before Ridge settled atop her, he did pause one more time. “There is that pottery shed outside.”

  “I hope you’re joking.” Sardelle imagined knocking over clay bowls and having tools falling from the walls of that tiny shack out there, bare butts being prodded with broken shards of ceramic…

  “Uhm. Yes, of course.”

  He returned to kissing her, caressing her enthusiastically, as if to apologize for his lapse. Still, she could tell that realizing where he was and what they meant to do here bothered him.

  “Ridge,” she whispered, “we can go to the shed. I just want you. I don’t care where.”

  He met her eyes, his hands stilling. “I love you.”

  “Good.” She looped her arms around his shoulders. She was going to make him carry her if he was taking her naked body outside to reach this dubious love nest.

  He obliged, practically leaping from the bed with her in his arms. That made her realize just how much he wanted her and how much this issue was frustrating him. She wrapped her legs around him, wondering what the neighbors would think if they saw a nude couple streaking across the yard. He reached the door, opening it slightly to peer out. Duck was still snoring on the couch, but Ridge paused.

  “Did you hear the jingle of a horse’s reins?” he whispered.

  Sardelle reached out with her senses… and slumped with disappointment. “Apex is back. I think Tolemek and Cas are coming down the highway too.”

  Ridge closed the door. “No shed.”

  “No,” she agreed, her body hot and frustrated.

  I can delay them for a few minutes if you wish to commence with rutting.

  Sardelle started to shake her head, but Ridge’s eyes widened, and she realized Jaxi must have shared the comment with both of them.

  “Rutting?” he whispered.

  “That’s what it’s called if you’re a sword with no moist, achy parts.”

  “Would it be rude to reject her offer?”

  “Terribly rude.” She leaned closer and nibbled at his earlobe. “And I’d be disappointed if we did. I’ve wanted you since you kissed my tears and said you’d try to change the world for me.” She let her feelings wash over him, so he would know she meant exactly what she said.

  Ridge swallowed. “I never want to disappoint you.”

  “Good.”

  • • • • •

  When Sardelle finished bathing and changing into a dirt-free and relatively unwrinkled dress, she eased out of the bedroom and heard voices drifting out of the kitchen. Ridge, Tolemek, Apex, and Cas were discussing how to get Kaika. Sardelle had come up with a plan while she had been scrubbing herself in the small bathroom tub, but she went to check on Duck before heading into the kitchen. She felt slightly ashamed that she had forgotten all about her patient while she and Ridge had been…

  Doing unmentionable things to his mom’s door? Jaxi suggested.

  Even if those unmentionable things had been slightly awkward, especially after being interrupted a couple of times, Sardelle couldn’t help but grin. Yes.

  You should feel more ashamed that the rest of his troops had to spend a half hour chasing a spooked horse all over the neighborhood. I really didn’t think your rutting would be so lengthy when I volunteered to cause a distraction.

  Sardelle’s grin widened. Neither did I.

  The poor horse is exhausted.

  I’ll bring him some carrots later.

  I’m also confused as to how it’s not acceptable to have sex in one’s mother’s bed but having sex elsewhere in her bedroom is perfectly fine. If a sword could have eyebrows, Jaxi would have been raising hers. Archly.

  You would understand if you had lived long enough to think of your parents as sexual beings.

  Ew, that’s disgusting. Here I do you a favor, and you put disturbing images into my mind.

  I apologize.

  Given the size of your smirk, I don’t believe you’re sincere.

  No? Sardelle asked. That’s odd.

  She touched Duck’s shoulder and started to check his wounds, but his eyes fluttered open. A lurch of guilt filled Sardelle at the thought that he might have been awake during the door abuse.

  I muffled all the noise you were making, Jaxi said. I was afraid it would scare off the rest of the horses, and I didn’t want to make pirate boy’s day any worse. He was already grumpy.

  Oh. Thank you. Have you noticed if Cas is treating him any differently than usual?

  I haven’t seen any smooching if that’s what you’re asking. Not that I watch for these things. I’m not a pervert.

  You always seem rather knowledgeable about what Ridge and I are doing.

  That’s because you’re my handler. I don’t want to see these things, trust me.

  Sardelle wasn’t positive she believed Jaxi, but she let the matter drop. “How are you doing, Duck?”

  He shrugged his shoulders and shifted about experimentally. “Better than I expected, ma’am. Did you, ah, magic me?”

  “I removed two bullets and cleaned and sealed the wounds. You’ll be sore for several days, and I’d keep my movements ginger if I were you, but you should be fine after that.”

  “That was a yes, right?”

  Sardelle braced herself for another rejection of magic. She and Duck had been getting along reasonably well since they had vomited together in the Cofah base, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he still regarded her skills with wariness. “Yes.”

  “Uhm, thanks then. I was reckoning I would die when I was riding back. Just figured I had to warn the colonel
first.”

  Sardelle let out a relieved breath. “You’re welcome.” She was tempted to ask if she could poke into his thoughts and try to see exactly what he had witnessed in regard to those women, but she doubted he was ready for that. Besides, Duck wouldn’t likely want to relive being shot. Touching another person’s mind was intimate, too, and she preferred to save that sharing for Ridge.

  She patted Duck on the shoulder. “You should get some more rest. Your body worked hard to heal you, so you’ll be tired for a while.”

  “I’m trying, ma’am. I woke up because I was having a dream that I was suffocating.” Duck wiped his mouth. “It turns out a cat was sleeping on my face.”

  “It’s probably time to feed them again.”

  “Could be.”

  Sardelle gave Duck another pat, then headed for the kitchen. She should have been tired, too, since she had only slept for a couple hours on the floor, but she felt refreshed after her bath. And her exercise session.

  Gag.

  She knocked softly before entering, not wanting to intrude on secret military plans. Of course, Tolemek was in there, so they shouldn’t object to her presence. The men shouldn’t, anyway. Sardelle didn’t know what she would say to Cas.

  Ridge was leaning against a counter close to the door, and he wriggled his fingers in invitation. His drawing and Cas’s sword scabbard lay on the table in the center of the room. Cas and Tolemek stood on opposite sides of the table. Apex sat on a counter in the corner, his shoulders hunched and his face tense as he stared at the items. An unexpected reaction. Had they been talking about the sword and how it might be affecting Cas? Sardelle hadn’t shared that hypothesis with anyone yet, but maybe Ridge had sensed her suspicion when she had been relaying her story.

  “It does look like it would fit,” Ridge said, glancing at Tolemek. “That was a big box. And that’s a big sword.”

  “I couldn’t see the symbols that closely in the dark,” Tolemek said.

  “We’re debating whether this sword does indeed belong under Therrik’s bed,” Ridge told Sardelle.