The Price of Survival (Journey of an Arbais Mage Book 2)

by Meagan Hurst

  Entering uncertainly, Z’s eyes were drawn to wisps of motion in the air that seemed to be coming from something in the center of the room. In that center was a ‘pond’ that did contain water—except it was hot enough that steam rose from it, and the water was crystal clear. She assumed it was a bath. She approached it with caution, but when she knelt and ran a hand through the water, she found the temperature was perfect.

  Glancing around at the rest of the room, Z slowly exhaled when she found it was beautiful, but thankfully plain. There was a wardrobe that would easily hold every single piece of clothing she owned, from every single race or kingdom, and Nivaradros had made sure to design it to prevent the waste of any space; it was still within the wall. The drawers and the doors pulled and opened outward, but when everything was shut it was as flat as the wall itself. It was also flawless, and Z found it disconcerting enough that she turned away from it to examine something—anything—else.

  There was a desk, an end table—if something that large could be considered one—a couch that also remained part of the wall as much as possible and was created from it, minus the cushions, and then there was the bed. Z froze at the sight of it. Dragons did not need or use beds. When they slept—and it was rare—it was always in their native form. Nivaradros had often been beside her while she had slept, but he certainly didn’t use the bed; but there was one here.

  She proceeded with all due vigilance since it seemed even more out of place than the rest of the room. It was enormous. Z was fairly certain five humans could sleep comfortably in it without ever being in danger of running into one another, no matter how much of a thrasher any of them was. Like the couch, the bed was carved from the mountain, but it came out of the floor meaning Nivaradros had carved around it intentionally. Which meant the bed was planned.

  Alarmed, Z backed up until she was well away from that bed. Very few immortals used them for anything that resembled sleep, and fewer still were the number of immortals that would possibly use a bed that Nivaradros tolerated. Her mind immediately jumped to the conclusion the bed—and the room—had been designed just for her. As this meant Nivaradros had intended to bring her here for some time, Z felt a burning desire to get out of the room—out of the Dragon’s lair—and into hiding. But hiding would throw too many others into harm’s way.

  Inhaling deeply and slowly, Z forced herself to approach the bed once more. Due to the size of the frame, Z was curious how Nivaradros had come across the mattress, as that hadn’t been carved out of stone. Neither had the expensively woven and stitched blankets and pillows. Reaching out as though the bed would bite, Z ran her fingers over the silk blankets before her eyes were drawn back to the bath in the center of the room.

  Swallowing hard, she disrobed and went to test out the very strange bath in the very upsetting room. The overly large, possibly not-really-a-room. All her unease faded quickly after she had been submerged in the water for a few minutes. The heat relaxed the tight, bruised, battered, and damaged muscles, skin, and tendons that had been plaguing her without making themselves noticed by pain. What she did notice was a freedom of movement she hadn’t realized she was missing. Taking what was possibly going to be the only blessing of the night, Z relaxed in the water, and even managed to ignore the Dragon’s amulet pulsing powerfully against her chest.

  Soap appeared from the damn floor next to the bath, and Z regarded it too with suspicion. This whole room had enough magic to set her senses off, but Nivaradros had worked hard—very hard judging by the results—to make the room as least likely to irritate her senses as possible. Even with all the magic he had used, Z could barely feel it, and her senses were tuned in a way no one else’s were. It further confirmed Nivaradros had designed this room for her alone—which only added to her discomfort. Still, she had been left here and she knew better than to push the Dragon in his own home. Washing herself slowly, she gave in to what she couldn’t change.

  A towel appeared when she got out. Cursing at the object in a good thirty languages, Z nevertheless dried herself off and headed to the wardrobe to find clothing. Sliding open the bottom drawer, she felt her mouth fall open and didn’t bother to close it. The attire the Dragon had gathered for her was the clothing she was most comfortable in: her Ranger gear. Ditching the towel with relief when she finally worked up the nerve to touch the clothing she couldn’t believe she was seeing, Z changed hastily and then turned back toward the bed. She wondered if Nivaradros would know if she skipped the sleeping part of this whole thing.

  The certainty he would indeed know got her to eventually close the drawer and approach the oversized bed. On her way over, the lighting in the room shifted subtly, and her attention was drawn to a previously empty corner—a small table had slid out of the wall and food was slowly appearing upon silver platters. The magic was slight enough to be barely detectable, but the sight was distinctly creepy. It was like having an invisible servant with a mind of their own—or, to be honest, like staying in the lair of a Dragon who was determined to keep her for as long as he desired.

  Z could take a hint. When the chair finally appeared, she moved to sit in it. Fruit, some kind of meat, and bread made up the meal. Its simplicity was refreshing given her current mental state, and Z managed to eat what moved from the platters to her plate on its own. Water was the drinking liquid offered, and Z had never been so happy to see it in her life. As she was alone, the meal was undertaken in absolute silence, and when she at last stood, everything vanished from the table before the table and chair vanished back into the wall in a slow and slightly impressive display.

  “Dragon, you have had way, way too much time to fine tune your power,” she whispered as she closed her eyes when everything was once again gone. The display of magic had served a greater purpose though; Z was exhausted after everything that had gone on and then the room being so different on top of it. “I am going to have a word with the Dragon in the morning,” Z grumbled darkly as she finally made it to the bed.

  It was like getting into air. The covers and blankets were soft enough she could barely feel them against her, and the mattress was either firm enough or soft enough to go unnoticed by her senses as well. Once again, she vaguely wondered how the Dragon had managed all of this, but before she could grow too upset thinking about it, she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

  And awoke to yelling. It was muffled, but loud enough to wake her, and Z headed to her doors automatically. Cracking one open, she was surprised to find she knew both voices and what she heard caused her heart to stop.

  “You cannot keep her here, Nivaradros!” Veilantras snarled from somewhere above. “Do you have any idea what you are doing here? You will start a war!”

  “Only if it is discovered that she is here. So long as the Dragon Council doesn’t open its collectively big mouth and blurt out that I am holding Z, no one will know where she is.”

  “I can’t even believe that you brought her here. She is a human, or have you forgotten? What has gotten into you, Nivaradros? You aren’t acting anything like the Dragon I know.”

  Nivaradros snorted loudly enough that Z heard it. “Are you so certain of that? I brought Z here for a reason, I have something I want from her and the easiest way to get it is to stay beside her constantly. Right now, she is almost dead, and I have no intention of losing her—therefore losing an enormous amount of time, magic, and effort—before I get what I want. Do not interfere with my plan, Veilantras. I will not accept it well.”

  “And after you get whatever it is you want?”

  “I will likely kill her myself. She is, after all, only a mortal. A dying human.” The scorn was so thick Z could feel it despite the distance between her and the Dragon speaking. “She has power. She has talent. And, right now, she has a use. That is all she is to me, Veilantras. A slightly useful breathing thing. But I do need her, and I cannot afford to risk losing her to an immortal skirmish or power play. The Shade barely trusts me, so I would rather avoid him at all costs. I also tire of playing
the polite, proper Dragon ally. If I remain around anyone else for much longer my mask will drop, and all will be lost. Do you understand? I am only interested in what Z can offer me, I could care less about the girl herself.”

  “She trusts you.”

  “I worked rather hard for that, but she is a fool to do so. She knows what I am and what I am willing to do to get anything I want. She should have seen this coming.”

  “You will start a war. You will weaken everyone. Without Zimliya there is little chance of the Alliance holding, little chance of Midestol being defeated. Nivaradros, I would fight you if I could win to prevent this—”

  “But you cannot win against me. I could not care less about the rest of the world. If, and when, Midestol makes his move I will make mine; I can survive any assault he throws at me here, and last time he waged war on the races he left me alone. I am not a target he wants to match.”

  “So, you will kill her.”

  “Only after I get what I seek. Don’t worry, Veilantras. It is probably still a few weeks away.”

  Chapter 12

  It is probably still a few weeks away.

  The words rang in her mind continuously while Z struggled to accept the meaning behind everything she had overheard the two Dragons discuss—and she was aware she had missed most of the conversation. Closing her eyes with the sense of betrayal she felt, she shuddered, closed the door softly, and returned to the bed. A chill was in the room, and there wasn’t anything she could think of that would shake it.

  Once again, she wondered just what the Dragon was after. The idea that the game was this large was easy enough to accept—immortals did nothing small—but what the Dragon had been willing to go through to get her here was concerning. The pulsing amulet over her heart was no longer a comfort, yet she couldn’t force herself to take it off. It did afford her some protection, and if she planned on fighting the Dragon—and she couldn’t make up her mind on that point—she needed all the help she could get since he knew of her weakness right now.

  The table emerged from the wall, and the lights overhead flickered once again to draw her attention to it. Fresh fruit and some sort of breakfast cake were upon the table this morning, but Z couldn’t bring herself to even pretend to be hungry. She didn’t bother to leave the bed. She was tempted to contact Crilyne, but there was little the Shade could do that wouldn’t endanger innocent lives, and she was unwilling to waste them just now. The Dragon was correct in one aspect after all—she was already dying.

  She didn’t know how long she sat on the bed with her legs drawn up under her chin and her arms wrapped around her knees before the Dragon came to call, but she did know when he entered. Looking up as the doors opened, she met his eyes steadily, but didn’t acknowledge his wordless greeting at all. In fact, she planned to keep silent for as long as possible—her anger was far too raw to put into words.

  “You haven’t eaten.”

  She didn’t answer, but she did glance over at the still waiting meal on the table that she found eerily impressive. She looked down at the interwoven designs on her sheets and ignored the Dragon until he came and sat beside her on the bed. Only then was it hard to properly ignore his presence, although she still tried. She knew how immortals looked at the world, and she wouldn’t hold it against them, or him. She was from the shortest living race and her people didn’t have the best record for being brilliant or useful.

  Occasionally there was one who was—she knew that—but it was a lower number than it should have been in her mind. With the number of humans, due to the quick population jumps, there should have been more humans who could get along with races outside of their own, but there were not. Since she hated the majority of her own race, she wasn’t going to hold it against the Dragon, but she still felt slightly misled. It had been hard to open up enough to grant anyone the title of friend, and she knew her decision hadn’t been popular with anyone else—now she wasn’t sure she knew what the word meant again.

  “You heard.”

  There was no accusation. No anger. And no guilt. Nivaradros’s tone was even, and it implied the topic at hand was no more important than the talk of the elderly grandmothers Z had heard discussing the weather on a sunny afternoon in Tenia. His expression wasn’t even remotely concerned about the fact she had heard part of his discussion with Veilantras. It caught her off guard. It made everything he had said cut deeper, and Z swallowed to keep from lashing out. It wasn’t his fault—she was the mortal in the arrangement.

  “Yes. As you so callously put it, I ‘heard.’” Cursing herself for giving in and answering, Z nevertheless managed to keep her tone fairly level, but the choice of words gave away her anger.

  “Z—”

  “I get it. You’re an immortal. I’m a human. I understand. My kind are game pieces. Don’t worry—you’re not breaking any rules. I won’t protest, argue, or fight you. You win, Warlord. What do you want from me?”

  “Right now, I would like you to listen.”

  “I thought gloating was beneath Dragons.”

  “It is. Look, Zimliya, if you would like to leave, you may. You may leave immediately without repercussions. I promised you I wouldn’t harm you here, and I meant it.”

  “Ah, but once I leave I am fair game?”

  “Will you stop that?!” the Dragon suddenly exclaimed. “You are not a target at all! Based on your reaction, I can only imagine Veilantras will have believed every word I said, but you were supposed to be sleeping. By the shadows, Zimliya—how else was I supposed to keep her from seeing you?!”

  She flinched at his anger, but his words made little sense, which brought her eyes up to meet his at last. “I overheard what you told her,” she reminded him. “You don’t need to lie to me. I’m a Ranger, we know where humans stand on the chain of power.”

  “I am not lying to you. Zimliya, I have no intentions of killing you. The Shade and I worked this little number out to buy some time when I realized my blood in your veins acted like a beacon to other Dragons. I had to keep them away from you somehow. Now that Veilantras believes I am keeping you as something even lower than a pet—something I won’t let even her see—she will tell the Council, and my refusal to let any of them see you is understandable.”

  “Yet you want something from me.”

  “Of course I do. I have never denied that or implied otherwise.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I am not inclined to tell you right now.” The Dragon held up a human-seeming hand as she opened her mouth to argue. “It would probably upset you further, and I am trying to undo the damage I already did, not add to it. Z, I am telling you the truth here.” The fact he went back to using her nickname was reassuring, as it meant he was calming down. “What you overheard was a lie. I have no intentions of letting you die, and I have no plans to rush you to a quicker death. You may contact the Shade if you do not believe me.”

  She wanted to believe him. He was watching her with the exasperation she knew well, but he was the Warlord for a reason, and it was completely within his range of skills to lie to both her and Crilyne without them even knowing it. Therefore, contacting Crilyne probably wouldn’t accomplish much—other than either alarming or amusing the Shade. Since there was so much going on right now on top of this deal, Z definitely didn’t want to add to anyone else’s burden. She would handle this on her own.

  She just hoped she wouldn’t have to kill the Dragon. She wasn’t certain she could with her sporadic seizures, and she still liked him, for a reason she couldn’t fathom. Shuddering at the thought, she closed her eyes, but she managed not to flinch when his hand touched her check. Opening her eyes quickly at that contact, she found his calm green eyes waiting, but fairly relaxed and unthreatening. He was making it so hard not to trust him. All of her senses were either failing or telling her the truth—as he claimed to be—and she, possibly foolishly, couldn’t accept it.

  “I should have warned you. It never occurred to me you would overhear that. I forg
et how much Dragon travels when spoken in general, never mind in a cave.” Nivaradros sighed. His hand moved, and she just closed her eyes as it fell from her cheek to her shoulder and rested there for a minute before falling from her entirely. “Will you truly not consider eating?”

  “I’m not hungry.” She forced herself to open her eyes, to watch him, so she could try to find a hint of his deception from his movements.

  The Dragon winced at her tone. “Z—” He got up and moved away from her. Turning his back to her, she heard him muttering curses in every language of their world but his own under his breath until he moved to once again face her. “I don’t want to lose what little trust you’ve given me,” he said softly at last. “But if it’s gone then it is gone. At least pretend you want to survive for a little longer. Join me for whatever meal this is.”

  “Breakfast,” she replied dryly. She watched as a second chair joined the first at the table, but she still made no move. Part of her wanted to trust Nivaradros, but the part of her that had been through worse balked and caused her to exercise more caution than she probably needed to.

  When she hadn’t moved for more than ten minutes, Nivaradros snorted smoke from his seat at the table. “Perhaps I should show you more of the lair instead.”

  “I don’t want to intrude, I have seen plenty,” was her chilly reply as she tried to force distance between them.

  “No, you haven’t. Come, Zimliya. Allow me to show you one other room.”

  Something in his tone made her rise from the bed and follow him to the doors. He offered her his arm, and she hesitated only for a moment before accepting it with as much grace as she could muster since she couldn’t trust him right now. He led her not back the way they had come the previous night, but down deeper into his lair that she was beginning to suspect ran the entire length of the mountain. With the height and breadth of Nivaradros’s chosen home, Z shuddered at the thought of just how many rooms the Dragon probably had created. A couple centuries probably wouldn’t even cover half of them.