Dragon Red: A Fire Unfed (The Dragonlords of Xandakar Book 2)

by Macy Babineaux

  “It's the least I can do,” she said.

  He smiled, then winced in pain. “Just let me rest for a while,” he said. “Then I’ll help you onto the first branch.”

  He didn’t look like he would be helping anyone with anything for quite a long time, but she crouched beside him and waited nonetheless.

  “Do you remember anything else?” she asked him.

  His eyebrows furrowed as he looked like he was chasing some particular memory. Then he tried to shake his head and winced again. “No.”

  How strange it must be, to not know who you were, to be told you were someone but not remember anything about your life. She had lost nearly everything, but at least she knew who she was. At least she had her memories. She thought about her mother taking a fresh sweetroot pie from the oven and setting in on the sill of their hut to cool. The memory somehow comforted her and made her ache with grief at the same time. Perhaps sometimes it was better not to remember.

  He started to get up again. He grunted, but made it to his feet and stood up straight. She smiled with relief. His body had healed quicker than she would have thought.

  “Shall I boost you up?” he said, nodding at the limb.

  They walked to the base of the tree. Kal crouched down and interlocked his hands.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked.

  “You’d best hurry before I change my mind and try to climb it again myself.”

  She smiled and stepped close to him. He smelled like smoke, but not from burning wood. The scent was earthier, like the warm air that might flow out of a crack in the earth’s crust or the smell of a blacksmith working with molten iron.

  She put her hands on his powerful shoulders and stepped onto his interwoven hands. Her breasts were near his face. She looked down at him, waiting for him to hoist her up, but he looked flustered. His face had turned a bright shade of red, and she realized it wasn’t from exertion. He had tossed the snake man like a straw doll, and even after the nasty spill he’d taken he could surely lift her up with little trouble.

  No, the closeness of her was having an effect on him. She blushed a little herself, feeling her heart thump faster in her chest.

  “You all right?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said. “Of course.”

  She was delighted at his discomfort, his obvious attraction to her. But she tried not to read too much into it. After all, he didn’t know who he really was. He might be attracted to any woman at this point, far away from home and without anything to latch onto. Once he got his memory back, he’d probably forget all about her. He probably had a woman back home, maybe even a wife, maybe—

  He lifted her up, and as he did her right breast brushed against his bearded cheek. Her nipple grew erect beneath her gauzy dress as it grazed his bearded face, and now it was her turn to become flustered.

  Thalia almost forgot to grab the branch as it came rushing towards her. All she could think about was the feel of his face against her breast, his taut muscles as he lifted her, and that warm, smoky smell.

  Almost as an afterthought, she reached out and grabbed hold of the thick branch.

  “Got it?” he asked. He had let go of her, but was right underneath, ready to catch her if she fell. Part of her just wanted to let go, to feel him catch her in those strong arms. Perhaps then he would lean in and kiss her, carry her to a soft bed of grass and gently put her down.

  But that was silly. She had probably imagined his reaction to being close to her because she wanted it to be true. She told herself to stop being ridiculous and focus on the task at hand. Here it was not so dangerous, but if she started fantasizing when she was higher up she might really hurt herself. And she doubted she could recover as quickly as he could, if she could even survive such a fall.

  “Yes,” she said, pulling herself up onto the limb. “I’m fine.” But she wasn’t, not really. His touch had set something off in her. Part of her wanted to dismiss it as a girlish crush. A brutally handsome stranger had saved her life. She was still grief-stricken from her loss and not thinking straight. Of course she would think she was falling for him.

  But she knew that wasn’t exactly true. There was more than that, and she thought maybe he had felt it as well. But did their feelings even matter? He was a dragon and she was a rabbit. They might as well be in different worlds. There would never be a way to make it work, so the best thing to do would be to put it completely out of her mind.

  She reached up to the next limb and took hold, pulling herself up while she tried to focus on the climb. But two more limbs up she peered down. She saw him looking up at her and the blood rushed into her face and she felt a wave of dizziness and embarrassment.

  Oh no, she thought. I’m not wearing any undergarments.

  Surely he hadn’t been looking under her dress as she climbed. Everything about him had seemed gentlemanly. But how could he not have seen the whole of her as she moved upwards, the gauzy yellow dress fluttering openly?

  She perched on the current limb and tucked the dress under her. She cleared her throat and yelled down. “Kal?”

  “Yes?” he said, staring up at her, a strange look on his face. “Doing all right up there?”

  “Yes,” she yelled back down. “But would you mind terribly not watching me climb?”

  He looked more confused than ever. “But what if you fall?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. She didn’t know if that were true or not, but she thought she might just die of humiliation if she kept exposing her bottom and privates to him as she climbed.

  He paused, and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to respect her wishes. Then he nodded and walked away from the base of the tree.

  Thalia took a deep breath and relaxed a little. Then she looked up. The limbs got denser and more numerous above her head, but also smaller. She spotted the target, the nest, still high above. She began to make her way.

  It felt good to move up through the branches, to feel useful. Collecting berries and nuts for Kal had made her feel the same way, but this was better. She pushing herself physically, wearing herself out. She thought maybe she’d be able to sleep a little tonight.

  A light sweat was breaking out on her skin. She smelled the saltiness of it, mixed with the fresh scent of the leaves and the earthiness of the bark. She’d only left his grasp moments before, but she already missed the smell of him.

  Stop it, she thought. You’re going to get yourself hurt.

  Thalia didn’t even bother looking down again. Either he was looking away or he was watching her against her wishes. Knowing really wouldn’t help either way.

  She hadn’t climbed much in her life in the warren. There was really no need. As a child, she’d been warned to stay out of the trees. In human form you were heavier and could take a nasty fall. The risk of a fall was not nearly as bad in rabbit form, but as her mother always liked to tell her, the forest was full of things that liked to eat little rabbits.

  Then it struck her. That’s how she was going to get out on that limb to the nest. She’d need to transform. Then she could easily run along the length of it.

  It wasn’t long before she reached it. The limb with the nest was barely bigger round than her forearm, risky to traverse as a human, but safe enough as a rabbit.

  She grabbed hold of the limb, hoisted herself up one last time, and shifted. Her yellow dress fell from around her, floating down towards the ground.

  Thalia instantly felt safer, the thickness of the branch comforting beneath her small body. She looked out along the length of it to the nest.

  Easy, she thought. Her impulse was to just bound out there and look for the feather Kal needed. But she played it safe, laying her ears flat along her back and taking small, measured steps.

  The nest was big, suspended in the fork of the branch. As she approached, she couldn’t see what was inside. She really hoped there was a feather in there. If not, she wasn’t sure what they were g
oing to do. She supposed she could wait for one of the birds to return. But then what? Try to pluck a feather from it?

  She got to the edge of the nest, then put her paws up on it and looked in. Her heart jumped as she saw a flash of white, then she realized what was in the nest.

  A long white feather lay on the far side. Three pink-headed hatchlings sat in the bottom. They were ugly things, with bulbous eyes and nubs for wings.

  Oh no, she thought. I need to grab that feather and get out of here before the mother comes back.

  She crawled up on the lip of the nest and started to make her way around the inside, glancing up at the sky as she did. She wasn’t even sure they could actually see her. Their eyes looked swollen shut. But halfway around the nest, they either saw or sensed her.

  One of them let out a cry somewhere between a squawk and a peep. Then the others joined in. Their little heads jutted up with each loud chirp.

  No, Thalia thought. Calm down. It’s fine. I just need a feather. That’s all.

  “What’s going on up there?” Kal’s words drifted up to her.

  Not now, she thought, glancing frantically for signs of the mother. Then she put her head down, scrambled across the nest, and plucked up the snow white feather in her mouth.

  She ran back around the edge. Just as she crawled back onto the limb, she heard it.

  This was no peep or chirp. A deep, resonant screech ripped through the still forest air. Thalia glanced over her shoulder, the feather clenched in her teeth, and saw it.

  The hawk was bearing down from under the canopy, wings spread, its black eyes locked onto her. It let out another scream and Thalia froze, ice running through her veins.

  She jumped along the branch and ran. The shadow fell across her, and she was more terrified than she had been with the snake men. She imagined those outstretched talons sinking into her back and lifting her up, that razor-sharp beak plunging into the back of her skull.

  She could transform, but her weight would likely snap the branch and the fall would kill her anyway.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw another branch, probably too far to jump, but she’d run out of options. She planted her hind legs and sprang across the gap. As she hovered out in the air between the branches, she heard the mother hawk’s claws crash down behind her.

  I didn’t want to hurt your babies, she thought in midair. I just wanted your stupid feather. Time slowed and somewhere far away she thought she could hear Kal yelling up at her again.

  She stretched out her paws.

  I’m not going to make it.

  She transformed midair, her arms elongating, the pads of her paws lengthening into fingers. It was just enough for her fingers to curl around the far branch.

  But as she shifted, she’d lost the feather in her mouth. She looked down past her naked body and watched it flutter away.

  Then she looked behind her and saw the great white hawk sitting on the branch where she had just been. It spread its wings and screamed at her once more.

  Oh, please don’t attack me again, she thought. Hanging there exposed, the bird could just tear strips of flesh from her back.

  But the mother seemed satisfied enough to just have her gone. The bird walked back along the branch to its nest and looked down to check on the hatchlings.

  Thalia looked down again and this time noticed a thick branch just below her. She sighed with relief, though her heart was still thumping like a hammer in her chest.

  She relaxed her fingers, letting herself drop onto the branch just a foot below. She landed perfectly, balancing like a gymnast. Then she took a deep breath and started the long climb down.

  She hoped Kal wasn’t watching her. Or maybe she was. Thalia didn’t really know what she felt anymore. The past two days she felt as if her emotions had been on the end of a rope, slung in a dozen different directions.

  She moved steadily and quickly back down the tree, not knowing whether she had succeeded or not. When she got to the last branch, she looked down and saw Kal nearby, his back to her. That made her smile. Maybe he was a gentleman after all.

  She lowered herself on the last branch, then dropped to the ground. The cool air on her skin made goosebumps break out on her arms. Her nipples tightened, hurting just a little, but also making her feel a little sexy. She almost hoped he would turn around, see her like this, and wrap her in his arms.

  She felt like she needed a little love right now, perhaps a lot of it. Her entire life had been a steady stream of peaceful contentedness, picking berries, helping with the chores, and playing with her sisters. Now she’d nearly died twice in as many days. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and though she didn’t have the first clue what to do with a man, she thought she just might like to try to figure it out with Kal. Besides, she was sure he would know what to do with her.

  But he remained with his back turned as she padded lightly toward him. His hands were folded in front of him. He held one out, her yellow dress dangling from his fingers.

  “I believe you lost this,” he said.

  She giggled and jumped forward to snatch it out of his hand. “Thank you,” she said, slipping it over her head. “I made it into the nest and got a feather. But I dropped it on the way—”

  He held out his other hand. Pinched between his thumb and forefinger was a long white feather.

  “I found both on the ground,” he said. “I believe at this point the scales of debt may have shifted. I now owe you.”

  But that was nonsense. He had saved her life. She had merely retrieved a feather from a tree. But she had risked her life. So perhaps it wasn’t that silly after all.

  “You can turn around now,” she said. As he did, she saw something else in his eyes: a newfound respect.

  “I underestimated you,” Kal said, twirling the feather between his fingers. “You are much more resourceful than I would have imagined.”

  Of all the compliments he could have paid, that was a nice one, but much farther than what her ears wanted to hear. She wanted him to call her beautiful, to step closer and run his fingers along her face, to lean in and—

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She realized she was standing there dreamily looking into his eyes, hoping for something that was never going to happen. She blinked and gave her head a little shake. “Me? No, I’m fine.”

  “Well, thank you, Thalia,” he said. Hearing him say her name made the little hairs on her arms stand up straight.

  “It was the least I could do,” she said.

  “Well,” he said, looking at the feather. “Now what?”

  “What did the witch say?” Thalia asked. “Did she tell you what to do with it?”

  He looked down at the ground as if thinking, then shook his head. “No,” he said. “And now I feel a bit ridiculous. Am I to ground it up into some sort of elixir?”

  “Do you feel any different?”

  She could see him searching his thoughts and feelings, the blank look on his face telling her that he’d come up empty-handed.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “Well,” she said. “Perhaps you should just close your eyes and try to transform as you hold the feather in your hand.” That sounded stupid just as the words left her mouth, but Kal didn’t laugh or put down the idea.

  “Very well,” he said. He sat cross-legged on the forest floor and closed his eyes. Thalia sat down across from him.

  She had to admit he did look a little silly sitting there with the feather pinched between his fingers, a look of intent concentration on his brow.

  There’s no way this is going to work, Thalia thought. The white hawk was rare, revered, and as she could now attest first-hand, completely terrifying. But she had spent her entire life in the forest and never heard a word about it or its feathers having any sort of magical properties. The warren had a healer. Old Maggie knew everything that grew or crawled in the forest and whether or not it was magic. Not once had Thalia ever heard her speak of the white hawk, nor had
she ever seen a white feather among the shelves and jars in the old woman’s hut.

  She almost regretted making the suggestion to Kal. She felt a little guilty for making him look foolish.

  But then something began to happen, very slowly at first. The red armor he wore seemed to begin to shimmer, the scales sliding against one another. The skin on his face began to redden, his nails darkening and seeming to grow.

  He opened his eyes and looked at her. She let out a little gasp. Instead of small round pupils, his were vertical, from the top to the bottom of his eyes, like a reptile.

  “I don’t think it’s working,” he said.

  “I assure you, it is.”

  Kal looked down at his hands, the fingernails long, black, and sharp. “Oh,” he said. Then he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

  Thalia got up and backed away, giving him room to grow. She heard the crackle and groan of his flesh expanding and reknitting. His face changed, the lower half elongating. Black spikes and ridges formed across the top of his head and down his lengthening neck.

  He grew to ten times his size, then twenty, the long whip of a scaly tail spiraling out behind him. A great red dragon sat on the forest floor before her. A giant pair of leathery red wings unfurled behind him.

  The smoky smell of the furnace surrounded her now, and she felt waves of warmth radiating from him. She looked at his left hand, now a massive claw. The white feather looked tiny in his grasp.

  His massive jaws opened, his voice now a deep rumble. “It worked.”

  Yes, it did, didn't it? She looked up at him, dumbstruck.

  He really was a dragon.

  7: Marko

  Standing on the balcony overlooking the great veranda, he watched the servants scuttling to and fro, carrying chairs, tables, flowers, and all manner of food.

  He didn’t even know what this feast was for, not that his father needed an excuse. Feasts were now a common occurrence at the sandstone palace, and Karth’s belly stood out as a testament. His father had grown fat, a fine look to go along with his complacency. But if all went well, his gluttony and cowardice would soon be at an end.