Dragonsbane (Book 3)

by Shae Ford

  “Oh dear, I can see I’ve been a very bad influence on you,” Kyleigh teased. “Now you’ve gone and broken all sorts of rules.”

  Nadine scowled at her grin. “This does not count. They said there was ice on your bones, and that the warmth of other bodies would keep your blood from freezing —”

  “I’m honored.” Kyleigh braved the cooler air outside the blankets to clasp Nadine on the shoulder. “Truly, I am. In all my years, I’m not sure I’ve done enough to deserve such remarkable friends.” She lay back and closed her eyes against the orange light. “Now … would you care to tell me how in blazes the two of you came to be in the Unforgivable Mountains?”

  It sounded as if they’d had a rather wild adventure. Kyleigh’s heart fell when she heard of the Valley peoples’ plight, but rose again at the battle with the bandits. She laughed outright when Elena told her that Jake had unwittingly burned Crow’s Cross to the ground.

  “He was angry with me for ages about that,” she muttered, staring up at the stone ceiling. Her arms were propped behind her head and the furs pulled over her chest. The dark edge of her eyes softened a bit as she spoke. “I think he realized after a while … well, death is just a part of life, isn’t it? The more evil we get out of the way, the happier life will be. That’s what gives us peace.”

  They talked for a while more, trading stories while Kyleigh tried to remember how to use all of her limbs. Then a sudden knocking on the door threw her friends into a panic.

  Elena tossed a heavy pelt over Kyleigh’s head and held her close while Nadine shouted: “Come in — quickly! Do not leave the door open for long.”

  There was a creak and a blast of icy air. Kyleigh realized that her body hadn’t quite recovered from the frost. Her joints remembered the ache of cold and seized up quickly, even with Elena covering her.

  Fortunately, the door slammed shut as quickly as it’d opened. The familiar noise of boots clomping across the floor told her it was Gwen. “Supper’s here. It got frostbitten on the way over. I’ll set it in the coals for a while, but …”

  Elena pulled the pelt off Kyleigh’s face and the pot Gwen had been holding slipped out of her hands. It hit the stone floor with a clang and broth splattered in every direction.

  For a moment, the whites around her eyes showed starkly against the black swirls of her paint. Then she glared. “I groan to think of how many spools of thread Fate wasted on your tapestry, pest.”

  “I’ve missed you too, love,” Kyleigh said with a grin.

  Surprisingly, Gwen smirked back. “Yes, and speaking of … tapestries,” she said, holding the word with an edge that made Kyleigh bristle, “the mutt will want to know that you’re awake. I’ll go get him.”

  “No, I’ll go.”

  Elena ripped the blankets aside and — judging by how quickly Nadine covered her eyes — she wasn’t wearing much.

  Gwen made a frustrated sound. “How many times must I swear on the graves of my fathers that your companions are safe?”

  There was the rattle of armor, then a click as Elena strapped her daggers into place. “I don’t trust you around my mage — the mage. That mage, I mean …” Her words trailed into a string of curses and she stormed away.

  “That’s still going on, is it?” Kyleigh whispered.

  Nadine grinned from behind her hands.

  Gwen scooped the pot off the floor and set it in the coals. “Fine. Then I’ll at least tell my wildmen that you’re awake,” she muttered.

  Grit rained down from the ceiling as Elena pounded on the door. This time when it opened, Kyleigh kept her head above the covers.

  From a distance, the door seemed to be made from a solid slab of wood. As she watched, the wood peeled back like a curtain and Gwen and Elena slipped through the narrow opening left behind. She saw the painted hands of a craftsman molding the door back into place, sealing out the cold.

  “This used to be a cave with a mouth opened to the weather. But Kael and his people — these wildmen — shaped it until that hole was all that remained.”

  Nadine pointed up at the ceiling, where a gap the size of a man’s torso stood out against the rock. A pit of burning coals sat in the middle of the cave’s floor. Smoke trailed from its fiery bed and drifted out the hole in steady tendrils.

  “They have sealed the door to the stone so that not even a cold breath may enter. It is remarkable, this magic. Now, you will cover your eyes while I dress — I would hate to have gouge them out,” she said with mock severity.

  Kyleigh sighed, but did as she was told.

  Once Nadine had pulled on her clothes, it was time for the challenging bit. The cold had done more than freeze Kyleigh: her muscles were weak and her joints groaned in protest at even the slightest movement. She felt as if she’d been lying around on the floor for years. But she was determined to stand.

  No sooner had she risen to her feet than Nadine clothed her with furs, pulling on such a variety of dead animals that Kyleigh couldn’t quite pick out all of their scents. Her knees bent with the added weight and she sat down heavily, struggling to catch her breath.

  Though Nadine was vehemently against it, Kyleigh got back to her feet. She leaned against the wall for balance while Nadine swathed her in yet another layer of furs. She’d just wrapped a pelt about her shoulders when a wild chorus of howls sounded from beyond the door.

  “Gwen has told her people. It will not be long before Kael is here.” Nadine’s hands gripped Kyleigh’s arms and when she spoke, her voice was in earnest: “I know you must be grateful to him, but do not do anything … rash.”

  It took Kyleigh a moment to understand the worry behind her eyes. “Wait — so you’re saying I shouldn’t chop off my hair and ask him to marry me?”

  “Your insolence knows no bounds!” Nadine said. She smiled the whole way to the door. “I am glad to see you again.”

  “I’m glad to see you too, Nadine.”

  The door opened and her little friend from the desert vanished with a blast of cold. The moment she was gone, there was nothing left to distract her. Kyleigh nearly collapsed against the wall.

  Twin rivers raged inside her chest, warring against each other. One was deep and calm: the dragon in her knew what Kael had done, and accepted it with love. But the human side of things was a different matter.

  Kyleigh wasn’t used to being saved. She hated feeling weak — hated the idea that, had it not been for someone else’s pity, she might’ve drawn her last breath. This river raged more furiously than its brother. Its white-capped waters plunged over jagged rocks and slapped against the shores. It would not bend, would not be swayed. Its flow would break for no one.

  Shallow, though, the dragon in her said. For all its fury, those waters are shallow — more foam than depth.

  Half of her heard the wisdom, but the other half still worried. She wanted to be able to keep Kael’s stride. She didn’t want to slow him down. Would he think less of her now?

  Was that what the river had been roaring about?

  A sudden creak of wood peeling from the cave’s mouth startled her. She watched as Kael stepped inside — watched the careful movements of his hands as he sealed the door behind him. She stared at the high arches of his brows as he spun because she was too afraid of what she might see in his eyes. She plugged her ears against the proud roar of the river and took a deep breath.

  “Kael, I want to thank —”

  Her words caught in her throat. His arms were wrapped about her middle. Their hearts collided as he pressed his chest into hers. His grip was stronger than it’d been before, but no tighter. She let her face rest against his neck and steeled herself against the things that might be rushing through his veins.

  Relief was all she felt: the song of rain striking the barren earth, a burst of the sun’s light as it broke from behind the clouds. His joy rose beneath her and filled her to the top, straining until she could no longer hold it in.

  “Why are you crying? I’m the one who should be crying!
” Kael said with a gasping laugh.

  “You should be, but you’re too stubborn,” Kyleigh said back. “Someone’s got to cry. So now I’m crying for both of us!”

  He pressed his sleeve against her cheek, drying her tears. Tiny white flakes clung to his jerkin.

  “It’s snowing?”

  He nodded. “It started falling about an hour ago. The wildmen had this mourning ceremony all arranged, with drums and songs — it was supposed to be a very solemn thing, mind you. They were going to weep all afternoon about how Fate has forsaken the earth and let winter in.” Kael shook his head. His lips tightened around his smile, and she knew he was fighting back a laugh. “Then Jonathan got involved. Now they’re singing about pirate grog and toothless women — and bosoms, of course.”

  “Naturally,” Kyleigh said with a grin. “It wouldn’t be a proper mourning ceremony without at least one mention of bosoms.”

  Kael groaned and shook his head, but his smile never faded. He eased her onto the ground — which was rather alarming, given the fact she hadn’t realized he’d been holding her up. “You ought to rest.”

  That was the last thing she wanted. “I’ve been lying around for days. Why don’t …” She cleared her throat, pushing the dragon’s wisdom aside long enough to force out a few reckless words: “I don’t suppose you’d stay with me for a while, would you?”

  He glanced at the door. “I don’t know … I might get my head cracked open.”

  The lights in his eyes flared brightly — a playful smirk. He was teasing her again. Blazes, she hated when he did that. It made her want to grab him by the curls and draw his smile out, to bend his lips with hers.

  But she couldn’t. And she found that to be rather … frustrating. “Let me worry about Nadine.” She slapped a hand against the floor beside her. “Sit, whisperer.”

  He did. They talked for a few moments, their conversation trailing as lightly as the smoke. But it wasn’t long before their words grew solemn.

  Kyleigh clenched her fists tightly in her lap when Kael told her of what he’d found inside the scouts’ cottage a few miles from their camp. He spoke of how he’d been wounded, how he’d stumbled down the mountain, and her fists clenched tighter.

  “If it hadn’t been for that blasted slip, I could’ve kept going. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds — honestly,” he added when he saw her glare.

  She knew it’d been far worse than it sounded. Whisperers crumbled so easily under the mindrot poison. Had his body not been so strong, Kael might’ve been unable to move. The winter might’ve frozen him to the rocks.

  Her heart pounded weakly as his story went on. When the hounds barreled towards them, his eyes grew dull. The light faded back and she could sense how the tale would end. Her heart dropped when he told her of what had become of Morris.

  “Did you … know?” Kael whispered, his eyes on the coals.

  She’d known some of the story, but hadn’t known all of it. For some reason, her memories had stopped the moment she attacked Crevan. She’d heard bits of what had happened to the whisperers and the nobles over the years. The fractured edges of what she’d known and what she’d heard made the truth seem muddled.

  But there was one thing she knew for certain:

  “Morris always regretted his role in the whisperers’ trap. He was a good man. I wouldn’t have brought you to him if I didn’t trust him. But he’d lived with his regret for years. In a lot of ways, I think his teaching you gave him a chance to … make amends.”

  “I hope so.” Kael gripped the top of his legs tightly as he added: “I would speak for him.”

  “I know you would. And you’d be right to.”

  Kael nodded slowly, his gaze still distant. His hand went inside his pocket and returned with a small, black jewel — the two-headed crystal Kyleigh had found among the ruins of Baron Sahar’s castle. “It was in your armor pocket. I kept it with me while you slept. And as you’re always nicking things from me, I didn’t figure you’d mind,” he added as he handed it back. “Is it special?”

  “It’s called starlight onyx,” she said quietly. There were a few stars peeking through the hole in the roof. Kyleigh held the jewel up to them and its blackened flesh began sparkling with their light. “I thought it was a clever thing.”

  “It is,” he agreed. His mouth parted slightly and as he leaned to look through the jewel, his shoulder brushed against hers. “Setheran wrote me a letter.”

  It was such a sudden thing, and she’d been so focused on not edging closer to him that it took her a moment to grasp what he’d said. “Well … what did he write about?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t opened it.” Kael pulled a small, folded letter from his other pocket. She smelled the heavy musk of its age and saw how the color had faded from its seal. “He’d hidden it inside the Atlas.”

  Kael held the letter strangely. It sat in the middle of his palm instead of between his fingers. “You don’t mean to read it.”

  His mouth fell in a stern line. “No.”

  “Why not?” When a moment passed and he’d done nothing but glare at the letter, Kyleigh touched his arm. “Whatever you might think of him, he was still your father.”

  Kael shook his head. “Setheran might’ve carried me up the mountains, but then he left. That isn’t what a father is. A father is someone who stays, who spends years teaching you everything he knows. And by that reckoning, I didn’t grow up without a father: I had two fathers. Their names are Amos and Roland — and more than anything, I want to see them again.

  “I’m grateful for what Setheran did for me. I’m grateful he gave me a chance, and he’ll always be my favorite hero. But I can’t read this.” His hand closed tightly around the letter. “He’s been there at every fork in the road, urging me along. I’m not sure if I’ve even taken a step on my own —”

  “You know that isn’t true, Kael,” she said fiercely. “He might’ve helped you a bit, but you chose your own paths.”

  The determined edge in his eyes only sharpened. “What if it’s whispercraft? What if he tells me to turn my back on everything and march down? I don’t trust him. If he was willing to die for me, he’d be willing to do anything — maybe even sacrifice the mountains. Morris told me the truth,” he said when she froze beside him.

  He glared into the flames, fixing them with all the harsh light trapped behind his eyes. And Kyleigh realized that perhaps she should’ve been more insistent. Perhaps it hadn’t been a decent thing, letting him avoid his questions for so long.

  “I would’ve told you,” she whispered, touching his arm. “I wanted to tell you. After I showed you Amelia, I expected you to ask why she hadn’t … why you never …”

  “Knew her?” Kael sighed heavily. His brows tightened at their ends, creasing miserably above his nose. “I wish I hadn’t looked.”

  “Kael …”

  “I mean it — I wish I’d never seen her. My gut kept telling me that no good would come of it, and I should’ve listened. Now there’s all this … no, it doesn’t matter.” Kael sat straighter; he dragged a hand through his curls and his eyes flickered with thought. “All that matters now is that I finish what I started. No matter what he’s done for me, I can’t risk falling to another one of Setheran’s tricks. I can’t read this letter.”

  His hand opened and for a moment, Kael held the letter as if he meant to read it. The rough edge of his thumb dragged across the faded words on its front. Then he leaned forward and tossed it among the coals.

  Flames spouted from its skin. They curled and blackened its edges. Bubbles writhed inside the wax, popping with muffled shrieks. A few moments later, and Setheran’s words had turned to ash.

  Kyleigh leaned back against the wall. So many things twisted inside her head … she wanted very much to sort them out, but the weariness in her bones made it difficult.

  The touch of Kael’s shoulder kept her anchored in wakefulness. He was stuck beside her, pressed in as tightly as he would fit. His neck
arched away from the wall. His gaze was focused. Lights danced in the dark of his eyes, whipping beneath gales of thought.

  Kyleigh couldn’t help but smile. “I feel sorry for Titus.”

  “You should,” Kael growled. “I have a plan.”

  She wove an arm through his and held on tightly. She was determined to stay awake just a moment longer. “I hope you’ll have a happy birthday, Kael,” she whispered.

  His hand closed over hers: warm, but not stifling — not demanding, but firm. He held her, and he let her be. His touch hadn’t changed because he’d had to save her. He felt no debt between them. They were tied together, as they’d always been.

  And in that moment, Kyleigh realized that she’d worried over nothing.

  Chapter 43

  The Braided Tree

  At the northeastern reaches of the Grandforest, the land began to change. The great trees languished into drooping weeds and the ground became a treacherous bog.

  Water pooled between the narrow stretches of grass. Deep pits of mud waited hungrily on all sides — their tops covered so thickly in moss that they might easily be mistaken for solid ground. One of Crevan’s scouts discovered this quickly when he took a wrong step and was dragged into the bowels of the earth.

  At least his screams warned the rest of the caravan away.

  Black ponds festered in the gaps between trees. The water was still, reflecting the sickly landscape like a mirror. Occasionally, the reflections would break into ripples as the scaly beasts that lurked within them ducked from the noise of the King’s march.

  Crevan hated the swamps. It was a useless plot of land that seemed to exist only to breed insects — great, bloodsucking pests that drove him mad with their needles. They left itching welts down Crevan’s neck and across his back, sipping during the day and swarming to feast at night.

  To make matters worse, the whole air stank like a dead man’s breath. The odor hung so thickly that Crevan began to think there wasn’t any air. Perhaps their lungs simply filled with the stench of rotting travelers.